“So, let me get this straight.” He takes a step closer to me. “For a job, you allow strangers to touch you in ways only your man should? It’s okay for them to hang on to you like this?” He unwraps his arms from his chest, placing his hands back to my hips, just like last night. “It’s completely okay for a man to put you on his lap and let your tight little ass rub against his dick?”
Jesus, what?
I know he just said dick.
I know it’s my turn to reply.
Maybe tell him to go take his own dick and fuck off, but my lips won’t move.
They want to part, suck in air, but I’m experiencing some sort of malfunction. My brain is stalled at the fact that his hands are still on me. The word dick on repeat in my head doesn’t help either. My eyes suddenly drop down past his chest. Two, four, six, yep all abs in place. My eyes don’t stop there. His black boxers lie low on his hips, no doubt failing at hiding his morning wood. And, Jesus, I knew the guy was big. Like impressively big. I wonder if he has to tailor his pants to fit the big guy—
“See something you like?” His voice breaks the debate in my head, and I quickly pull my eyes off his goods.
“Ew, no! Seriously, Wonka? I wasn’t looking at your junk. More like your dirty floors. Geez, clean much?”
His eyes light up in shock, followed by a distraught, garbled sound coming from his throat. I knew that would do it. He lets me go, which, not gonna lie, bums me out, to inspect his floor. “My floor is not dirty. I just washed it yesterday. You could eat off this floor.” He’s still looking down, and I’m standing there waiting for him to drop to his knees with a magnifying glass in search of dirt.
“Whatever, just stay out of my business, got it?” I begin walking back to my house when he calls out to me.
“Is it also your job to run around the neighborhood exposing yourself? I’m sure the HOA frowns upon people walking around half naked.”
I quickly look down, remembering, with no time to dress, I ran out of my house in my bra and underwear. And just to make the vision worse for me, better for him, I’m in a thong.
I throw my hands over my chest, then try covering my ass. Knowing I only have two hands, I decide he’s already seen it all and make use of what I got by raising my middle finger and flicking him off.
“You shouldn’t let men you don’t know touch you like that,” he states again while I walk with pride, chin high as can be while shaking my bare ass at him.
I turn to him while continuing to walk backward. “And why’s that, Wonka? Men love girls like me. Nice and easy.” There’s a fire that flashes in his eyes. And it kinda turns me on. Why am I suddenly tempted to go back and let him have his way with me? I know he wants me. Morning wood doesn’t last that long. I’m willing to admit I want him too. But sometimes two people just can’t get along long enough to play nice. Which also seems to turn me on even more. Rage-filled, heated, passionate, nail scraping, biting, choking sex. Jesus, having hate sex with my neighbor would be super-hot.
“Did you want to say something else to me, Lilith?”
Yeah, I just fucked you three times in my head. “Nope. Gotta get home and call over some random guy so he can take advantage of me. Lots of hair pulling and biting. Maybe tie me up. Use me and abuse me.” I smile and turn, knowing his wee wee is shooting through his pants. If he wants to call me a hussy, telling me I let guys take advantage of me, then so be it. I’m gonna make sure he regrets not being the one to do so.
I’m back inside, this time more careful not to slip on the rug. I really need to get someone in to dry this shit. I grab for my phone and shoot out a text to Daryl that I took care of the neighbor.
I’m struggling with which emotion I should allow to take the stage. Anger is definitely in first place right now. Who does Will even think he is, getting in my business like that?
But then there’s shock, joy, and surprise at how he tried to avenge my honor. He doesn’t even like me, but felt it’s his duty to make sure I was being treated with respect? Little did he know if he attempted anything close to those things Stake with Novahope was doing I’d be all over it.
There is no denying all the built-up tension inside me. I’ve always secretly had a thing for my crazy neighbor. Mind the mouth, I’ve always been attracted to him. I blamed it on the fact I wasn’t getting any, so my brain and vagina were probably starting to panic and take anything they could get. Therefore, whenever the neighbor would come over complaining about something, I’d just tune him out and pretend he was saying other things to me.
It would start out like, “Stay off my yard or else…” But then my mind would go dark and all I heard was, “Or else I’m gonna take that tight little ass of yours and make it mine, spank you raw until you’re begging for my cock to be in you.”
Yeah, I know. I really need to get some.
Maybe Daryl was right. I need to get the app, swipe right, and have some random sex. It’s that or end up doing my angry neighbor. And I’m not sure that’s the answer. He’d probably file harassment charges on me before I got halfway across his lawn and I’d finally be packing my bags.
I refuse to let him win.
Even if my vagina thinks a little neighborly finger bang would really be a nice truce.
I decide to hold off on waving my white flag. My sexual needs aren’t in danger of being extinct at this time.
Just as I decide to head to the bedroom and take care of my horniness myself, a knock on my front door sounds. I peek out the window, knowing if it’s Will, I’m going to run and grab my shaving cream. Instead, I see a cute, young fireman. Which reminds me… That jerk! I look out my side window to see Will still standing on his porch. He seems to have put some pants on, thank God. Someone needs to call the HOA on him and that big ol’ thing he’s scaring small children with.
“Coming!” I shout as I run to my room and grab my pink silk robe and a set of handcuffs in my nightstand from an old Halloween costume.
Then, I answer the door.
“Hello, Miss Hamilton?” the cute fireman addresses me.
I smile like the polite little innocent girl I am. With my voice as low as can be, I say, “Okay, listen, this is what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna say a few things I don’t really mean, and then I’m gonna jump on you. You need to just simply not drop me and walk me into my house. Got it?”
His eyes go wide as saucers. “Excuse me?”
I don’t give him time to tell me no. I start to yell, “Thank God you came. I’m super horny and really need someone to fuck me into tomorrow. Use these on me too.” I jump on the guy, who looks horrified. Thankfully, Will can’t see his face by the angles of our porches.
He catches me as instructed and I dangle the handcuffs behind his head. “Have your way with me, Mr. Fireman!” I then whisper in his ear, “Okay, you can walk us inside now.”
Just before we’re out of sight, I turn to the house next door and shout. “I’m so glad to have such a concerned neighbor! My aching vagina thanks you for the call!”
And inside we go.
“Full house,” Hank, aka Mr. Fireman says, laying his cards on the table.
“Dammit! How are you so good at this!?” He’s beaten me four times in a row. I drop mine and stand. “Want another virgin Manhattan?”
“No thanks, Lil. I should probably get going.”
I look at the time. I’ve kept him kidnapped in my house for almost three hours. I bribed him to stay the rest of the afternoon, but he told me the chief would start to wonder why he never showed back up at work. After walking inside, I had him drop me and apologized for my childish behavior. I confessed that my intentions were solely based on making my neighbor jealous. Then I tried to talk myself out of what I’d just confessed. Was I trying to make Will jealous? I just wanted to show him he had no claim on me. But did he? My cobwebbed vagina wanted him to. And why did I want him to validate what he thought of me?
I wasn’t really a hussy who allowed people to touch me without my consent
. It was my job to flirt with clients. I was a head DJ for WXOJ, Morristown’s most popular radio station. We had bands come in and do live shows all the time. We took them out and it was our job to make them happy. Did I get the occasional ass grab and proposition? Sure! Did I ever take anyone up on it? Never. I had lines too. And I never crossed those. It also helped I was never without Daryl, who was a whopping three-hundred fifteen pounds. I had a built-in bodyguard everywhere I went.
Either way, Hank got me to start babbling about all my troubles regarding my neighbor. When I was done, he had checked all the detectors, confirmed they worked, and come to the conclusion that I, in fact, wanted to be with my neighbor.
He was high.
Or maybe I was.
Wanting someone and wanting to be with someone were two totally different things. Sex, yes. Dinner dates and sharing a straight edge ruler while we cut his grass perfectly together? No. I told him he didn’t like me and the only pussy he’d probably ever get was that damn cat he had. We both got a good laugh out of that and then spent the next two hours playing cards. I served us up some lunch, then once it hit one in the afternoon I made us some drinks. Him a non-alcoholic, of course, because he was on duty.
But it was getting late and I couldn’t keep him holed up in my house forever.
“Do you think he’s stewing over there, thinking we’ve been having animal sex for the past three hours?” I ask, pouring a shot of whiskey, followed by a dash of sweet vermouth.
“I’m not sure. I think all the yelling and moaning you did out your window was a good touch. You don’t think he’s gonna call my boss, though, do you?”
I offer him a pfft sound and say, “No way.” When in fact I should be saying, “Probably, sorry. Do they offer a nice severance at your work?”
Hank leaves and limps just as instructed when walking down my porch. Will is nowhere in sight, which sucks because Hank really did play the part. He almost fell down the stairs moaning how sore he was.
To no avail, I go back inside and enjoy the rest of my day off. Come dinner, I look at the time and like clockwork, I hear the dragging of garbage bins being hauled down the driveway next door. This also reminds me that tomorrow is garbage day. And every garbage day, the neighbor throws a hissy fit because I put a measly few bags in his bins. I’m not even sure why he cares. I don’t ever have enough garbage to haul those oversized bins to the curb. Not to mention, I’m tiny and they weigh more than I do. It’s also not my fault the neighborhood has raccoons that insist on always pushing his trash over and tearing through my bags. Or his bags. Technically they’re his since they’re in his bins.
The more I drink, the more I realize how much Wonka, the tight-ass neighbor, calls and complains on me. Didn’t his mommy and daddy teach him that tattling was wrong? That’s like kindergarten 101 stuff!
When it strikes close to midnight and I’ve started seeing double, I grab all my empty bottles and head out my front door super ninja style. Since I’m incredibly sly when I’m totally canned, I line up the bottles right in front of his bins, creating a cute shape, and run back inside my house giggling like a school girl.
I set my alarm for earlier than I need to be up so I can call Waste Management and make a complaint on my messy neighbor who doesn’t know how to properly recycle.
Fridays are for Fines from the City
He wasn’t even that good-looking, for fuck’s sake. Receding hairline. Slight gut. Goddamn high-water pants.
And yet…she climbed him like a tree.
I’d been laughing my ass off the moment the fireman showed up to check on her smoke alarms, but things went sour quickly when she invited him in. For. Three. Hours. I swear I wore a hole in my floors pacing in front of the window that looks out to her house.
While they had sex.
Wild, intense, passionate sex.
The thought infuriates me and I don’t know why. I don’t even like Lilith Hamilton. She’s a nuisance and obnoxious.
But the other night?
That dress?
And yesterday morning…those panties.
Fuck. Me.
My dick has no beef with the sexy demon. My dick thinks they can be best friends. My dick wants to take over and start calling the shots.
With Lilith on my mind, I step out of the shower and towel off. Her pouty red lips. Big brown eyes. Soft, silky hair. Perfect tits. My cock is erect and aching for attention. Not from my hand, no. My cock wants her.
I think I want her too.
Ignoring my dick and those dangerous thoughts, I pull on some boxers and my work slacks. I’m just hunting for an undershirt to wear when the doorbell rings. It’s still early, around seven, so I’m confused at who could be stopping by.
Her.
My dick strains against my slacks.
Björk meows at my feet and I nod at my cat. “I know. She’s making me crazy. Disrupting my entire damn life.” She meows again as if to agree.
And she is disrupting my life. I missed my first day of work. Ever. Called in sick. Lied to my supervisor. I wasn’t sick, I was a stalker. I just had to know if she was really fucking that fireman. After a few hours, he staggered out of there looking like he’d been put through the wringer. Jealousy was like acid in my veins burning through me.
It’s a fact I can no longer deny. As much as I hate Lilith, I need to fuck her. I need to stick my dick inside her and choke her dainty neck until she screams my name.
I’m still in a daze with thoughts of her naked tits jiggling as I plow into her when I answer the door. Instead of seeing my favorite girl to hate, I see an irritated trash man on my front porch. His nametag reads Fred.
“Yeah, so we’re going to have to ask you to take care of your little problem. It’s against city policy to pick up anything offensive.”
I frown at him. “Pardon?”
He throws back a meaty arm and gestures to my trash bin. “The recycling items are to be kept in the recycling bin beside the trash bin. Not all over the street. Furthermore, the offensive shape has required us to write you a citation for two hundred dollars.”
“Offensive shape? Two hundred dollars?” I gape at him. “What are you talking about, man?”
He grunts. “Look, if it wasn’t you, then it was probably some teenagers. Regardless, we have to cite the homeowner. Sorry, man, but here’s your fine.” He hands me a pink slip and then waddles down my steps.
Storming after him, I pass his slow ass and make my way to the street. Bottles. Tons of them. In. The. Shape. Of. A. Penis.
Fucking Lilith.
I’ve just showered and haven’t even had time to properly put a shirt on and yet here I am picking up empty liquor and beer bottles. I toss them all into the recycling bin while Fred waits not-so-patiently.
“Thank you and have a nice day,” he mutters, his voice monotone the moment I drop the last one inside.
I ignore him and make my way next door, shoving my citation in my pocket.
Bangbangbangbangbang!
Bangbangbangbangbang!
Bangbangbangbangbang!
Bangbangbangbangbang!
Bangbangbangbangbang!
Bangbangbangbangbang!
She cackles with laughter from the other side of the door and it does my head in.
“Open the damn door, woman,” I roar, my body physically shaking with fury.
“Oh, hell no. You can stay right outside where you belong. The last time I let you in, you soaked my house,” she gripes.
Rolling my eyes, I squat and lift her silly garden gnome on her porch. Underneath is a key I see her keep there for her big-boy friend. I pluck the key out, push it into the lock, and let myself in.
She squeals when I rush inside. I take a quick note of her outfit. This morning she’s wearing tight jeans and a fitted white tank top. I can see the red from her bra underneath and like a bull, I charge for her. I’m not sure what I’ll do when I get her in my grip, but I’m going to do something.
“Get out!” she yel
ls as she tries to climb over the back of her couch to escape me.
I clamber over the piece of furniture after her easily and back her into a corner. She holds her palms up to me.
“Truce! I call truce!”
I pounce on her and grab hold of her wrists. My body, against my better judgment, presses to hers and I pin her arms to the wall behind her. With her this close, I can smell her sweet, fruity scent. I want to lick her to see if she tastes good too.
“You can’t call truce,” I growl.
My cock is hard between us and it takes everything in me not to rut against her. Her brown eyes are no longer wide and worried, they’re hooded. From this close, I can see a smattering of cute freckles across her nose and cheeks. She doesn’t have any makeup on yet this morning, but she’s still so fucking pretty.
“And you can’t sit here and hold me against the wall all day just because you’re pissed,” she taunts, her nostrils flaring.
My gaze falls to her mouth. Fuck, I want to taste her. I collect both her dainty wrists in one of my hands and free up my other. My fingers brush along her jaw and then I grip her face. I could just pull her jaw down and kiss her sassy mouth.
“I can and I will,” I lie. Technically I need to be at work in less than half an hour, but I’m not telling her that. I’ll let her sweat it out.
She licks her lips. “Go away, Bottle Boy.”
I glower at her. “You have a trash can. Use it.”
Her body wriggles against mine, maddening me further.
“You fucked the fireman,” I spit out bitterly.
She blinks at me in shock. “Yeah, so? Why do you care?”
Because you’re mine.
Fuck.
Thank God I don’t let that slip.
She’s not mine. She can fuck the fireman or Fred or Stake-the-stupid-emo-fucker. I don’t care.
“He’s probably got a wife and three kids,” I sneer.
Sundays are for Hangovers Page 4