I am ninety-nine percent positive that he is fucking a woman in my house right now. That son of a bitch uses my emergency key to get into my house and bump uglies with someone else. It turns out that he's the kind of man who can't stand sleeping alone, and when I kicked him out of my house and back into his own it wasn't long until he had a new piece of ass trotting over to spread her legs for him and cuddle afterwards. Jilly had moved out two months beforehand, and I missed sprawling on the whole bed. I do not enjoy being spooned.
I don't mind that he fucks other people so much, seeing as how I wasn't exclusive either, but I just don't understand it. I asked him once, back when he was still crashing at my place, "If you're so damn into women, why do you keep fucking me?"
He was playing with his monster of a dog and didn't even look at me. Or flinch "Your incredible ass."
I rolled my eyes. I already knew that. "I'm sure there's a woman out there who loves giving anal; you could get pussy and ass from the same person and quit being such a shitty boyfriend."
He looked up at me then, his naughty farmboy smile plastered on his face. "Do you think I'm a bad boyfriend?"
I folded my arms. "I wouldn't know."
His response was to throw the ball into my lap so that Angus gamboled into the chair with me and snuffled all over my face while I fumbled for the toy. "Asshole."
And now I pull into my driveway to see one of my front blinds pulled open and the spare key flowerpot in a different place. It's never another man, ever, always a gorgeous woman who would never believe that her modelesque corn-fed alpha male lover enjoys man sex. It's Jilly over and over again, but with different faces. None of them last as long as she did, though.
I walk in the house quietly and step on discarded clothes, still debating on whether to storm in on them or make a lot of noise downstairs until they realize that someone else is in the house. I end up setting my bag down, grabbing a glass of water, and turning on the television. The girl was loud and squealed a lot, and thanks to her vocalizations I knew that things were wrapping up. The thing about my neighbor is that he prefers orgasms to be simultaneous, otherwise he thinks that someone is doing a lot more work than the other.
Sure enough, about the time the whole upstairs starts rattling and the woman makes the sound of a teapot, I hear his infamous final groan. I don't want them cuddling in my bed, so I turn the television up louder.
I hear, "Oh my god! Is that him?" followed by a lot of small footsteps. "Do you think he heard us?"
I turn the volume up even louder and go get a beer from the refrigerator. The woman doesn't even look at me as she tiptoes down the stairs and grabs her jeans from the floor, even though I'm leaning against the doorframe, watching her.
That bastard slinks downstairs like he owns the place and bypasses the scrambling brunette. He's wearing his dress slacks; he's been here since he left work, which means my sheets will need to be burnt.
"Hey," he says smoothly, like he's greeting a lover.
The brunette looks up, a half-smile on her face, but the expression in priceless when she realizes to whom he's talking. If she were a cartoon character, exclamation points and question marks would be popping up around her head.
"Out," I respond, not blinking an eyelash. I think he gets an adrenaline rush from being caught.
He takes a step toward me, but I don't move, which throws him off.
I nod my head toward the woman, who is clutching her clothes to her chest and crouching by the front door, a scared, confused rabbit. "She needs her cuddle time. You're not going to get it anywhere else."
I'll give him credit for not making a scene, but that asshole left the rest of his clothes, which will give him an excuse to come back. I put them in a plastic sack and toss it on my back porch.
Not even an hour later he's banging on the sliding door. I can see him from my seat in the living room, but ignore him.
"Hey, let me in."
I frown. "I'm watching a movie."
"I promise to keep my hands and feet and objects to myself until it's over."
"Call your pussy of the week."
"Come on, I won't keep you up too late," he cajoles.
"You never could."
He frowns at me and steps off the stoop. "Are you seriously not going to let me in?"
I give him a look, but turn down the volume of the television. "You had sex with someone else on my bed, buddy. That gives me a damn good reason not to let you in."
The devilish look returns. "Jealous?"
I laugh, "Try disgusted. I washed those sheets twice. You can dirty up your own sheets for a while."
My neighbor shrugs. "Your loss, man. I know you haven't been getting laid recently."
That stings, and I bite back. "I'm not the bitch who keeps crawling back," I remind him.
That's all it takes for his jaw to set and his body to tense up, and I know he's about to explode, and I'm having a small adrenaline rush in classic fight - or - flight fashion, but I stay put. He steps back up to my door and yanks it open, and from the sound of it, he broke the fucking lock. Egotistical son of a bitch.
He stalks into the living room and turns the televisions off. I'm not sure where he's going with this, or how badly I'll get hurt if I move, so I pretend he's a Tyrannosaurus and stay as still as possible.
Jurassic Park lied to me. Fucker grabs my shirt at the collar, and I barely have time to say angrily, "Hey!" before he's yanked me straight off the couch and shoves me. As I stumble backward I can't help but give myself a mental congratulations on not bothering to decorate that wall. I wouldn't want anything to fall on my head when I crash into it.
It takes me a moment to get my breath back, but I'm not hurt, just weirded out and angry. "What the fuck has gotten up your ass, you sorry bastard?" I yell, gasping a little.
"You know what?" he asks angrily, grabbing my upper arms and pinning me against the wall. "You know why I left in the first place? It's because you offer nothing aside from sex."
God, he's such a woman. There's a reason why I don't date women. "That's a bad thing?"
He jerks me closer to him. "Hell yeah it is! The thing I love about women is that deep down they all want a <I>relationship</I>. We're social creatures by nature, and the reason that you're such a miserable little bitch is because you think you don't need anything from anyone but money and sex."
He lets me go, and my back hits the wall again.
"What do you want from me?" I ask peevishly. My heart is beating in my ears.
"I want you to fucking admit that you like having me around, that you don't like it when I sleep with other people - "
"Other women," I interject. "And it's not an issue."
"And that the only reason you ever kicked me out is because you got way to comfortable having me around," he finishes.
"You have commitment issues."
"Spoken as one who knows," I mutter, not able to come up with anything better at the moment. I have to admit that he's more thoughtful that I give him credit for, and that I'm no longer in the mood for a night alone with a movie, but that doesn't mean he's right. Not really.
"Why are you so cool with just being my most reliable piece of ass?"
He doesn't give me a chance to answer, because his hands are at the collar of my shirt and his mouth is on mine.
"Don't," I say, grabbing at his hands.
He lifts his head. "Don't what?"
"Don't rip another of my shirts," I tell him. "I hate shopping."
He grins and it's wicked, but he undoes the buttons quickly while I lean my head against the wall and wonder for the hundredth time what the hell is going through my head.
"You know, I usually think with my brain," I tell him. "This is not the appropriate response to you shoving me into a wall."
"Shut up," he orders. "I know you can do better things with your mouth than talk."
It's my turn to feel pleased with myself, since I do give damn good head. I've gotten to the point where I can slide a man's pants down before my knees hit the ground. My neighbor's eyes are heavy-lidded, still hot and angry, but the fucker wants me right where I am.
"Why do you still shave?" I ask. "Jilly won't nag you anymore."
He grabs my head and shoves it at his cock. "Because <I>you</I> like it," he says. There's a weird pause, and he adds, "If I'm going to get blowjobs on a regular basis, I'm not going to risk pissing - "
"Now it's you're turn to shut up," I cut him off, and busy myself with the smooth skin of his ball sac. I do prefer that he shaves; I hate getting pubic hair stuck in my teeth. There's something about the smoothness of such a delicate part of a sculpted body that is a turn-on for me, and the asshole knows it.
I wonder how he learned how to push all those buttons; if it's just natural for him or he really isn't so damn self-absorbed. I don't wonder for long, because I love how the cocky bastard is reduced to whimpering like a little bitch whenever I swirl my tongue around his cockhead. He's leaning into me now, his forehead resting on the wall behind me while he holds on to my head. He isn't fucking my face yet, which is unusually considerate seeing as how I'm still recovering from flying into a wall.
When his legs start shaking he pushes me away from him, shucks his pants, then grabs me and hauls me upstairs. He looks ridiculous in nothing but a t-shirt, but it draws more attention to the chiseled perfection of his ass. I debate joining a gym so I can stare at more asses like his. It's smooth and I can see the muscles clench when he takes a step, and I'm paying so much attention to its golden buttery nonpareil that it comes as a shock when he shoves me on the bed and yanks my pants off.
"Did you just break the zipper to those jeans?" I yell. "Why the fuck are you ruining all my clothes?"
He's already rubbing lube on his fingers, so when he clamps his hand over my mouth my jaw gets oily. Everything but my toes and the top of my head arches off the bed when he jams three fingers into me at once, and I start making up curses when I run out of the ones I know. Fucker <I>knows</I> I wasn't ready for that, and I'm pretty sure he stuck his fingers far up enough to touch my lungs.
"Quit bitching," he says.
"Fuck you, motherfucking, assfuck, toad-fucking, fuck hole," I gasp behind his hand. "This is shit. This is total shit. I hate you with every fucking atom in my body. I will eat your family."
He raises his eyebrows and glances down to my pelvis, so I look too. My cock stares back at me, weeping in gratitude for the first stimulation it's had in a week.
"It still hurts like a motherfucking bitch," I hiss as he pulls his fingers out and rolls me over.
"This," he says as he kneels behind me, "is why we get along so well."
I cry out when he spears into me, god it hurts so good. I want to make a sarcastic reply, but every time I open my mouth I groan instead, so I shut my mouth and bury my face in the pillow.
"You little shit," he grunts, ramming into me so hard that our balls are slapping together. "I wouldn't come back if you didn't open the door. It's because I fuck your brains out every damn time."
I don't understand how he can talk and still keep up his racehorse pace, but fuck me he's right. Oh, god it's good, even with a sheen of pain from the rough handling. I don't dare reach down and touch my cock because I know I'll come.
He grabs my upper arms and hauls me off the bed until I'm kneeling into his lap, my head lolling and cock flopping as he fucks me. The muscles on his lower abdomen flex and bunch under my fingertips, contracting hard every time he thrusts. My mouth is open, I'm probably babbling incoherent nonsense, drunk on the smell of sex and the skin that touches when he wraps his arms around my chest and buries his forehead in my neck. He's still talking to me, but my ringing ears don't process anything but the lusty rumble of his voice.
"I'm going to come," he warns me, biting down, and I yelp.
I'm gripping his thighs, but I grab one of his hands and wrap it around my cock. It's slick from the precome that has been dripping since we started, and I want to tell him what to do. However, I can't manage anything more than a desperate, "Fuck me," before he starts rapidly thrusting into me, fucking harder and faster than I've ever been fucked in my life, his hand moving at lightning speed in tune with his thrusts. He bites my ear, hard, and groans as he rams is cock into me erratically, coming, and I'm coming too, hard enough that my vision blurs and my ears feel as though they're going to explode, and I'm panting and my toes are clenched and my fingers are digging into his thighs.
We stay like that, his arms crushing my chest and his teeth pinching my earlobe, my back arched and my ass impaled on his cock and my fingers leaving bruises in his muscles, until he finally pulls out and collapses on one side of the bed. I have to lie on my back because my cock is too sensitive to touch the sheets.
It's at least twenty minutes before either of us attempts to form a sentence. "So does this mean I get to sleep here, now? Since I'm the best fuck you've ever had and all." He props his head on his hand and gives me that shit-eating grin of his.
I don't have the strength to laugh, so I heave out a breath instead. "You are absolutely not moving in with me."
He rolls his eyes to the ceiling like he's praying for something, probably patience, then hits me. "Give me some credit, you idiot. I just don't want to have to get out of bed, put my clothes on, go downstairs, out the door, over the lawn, into my door - "
"Okay, okay, fine, sleep here," I interrupt, throwing my arm over my eyes in acquiescence. "Like I give a fuck what you do."
I can feel him grinning, even though I can't see it, I just know that smug grin is stretched all the way across his face, the smarmy bastard.
"What do you call me, when your girlfriends ask why you're over here all the time?" I ask.
He flops down on the pillow, grin even bigger; I can tell by his voice. "My bitch. What are you going to call me, when you have to introduce me at all the staff parties and shit?"
I shrug. "I just say that you're my next-door-neighbor. You're not going to any of my parties."
"Is that code for something else?"
Taking my arm off my face, I peer at him. "You're hedging like a sorority girl who just lost her virginity. God, if everyone else knew that you had a vagina."
I roll my eyes. "Whatever you want it to mean, sugarplum fairy."
His response is to roll on top of me. He's hard again, like a horny teenager, and I can't look away from his face because he has my head in his hands.
"Get off," I protest. "You weigh a ton and I want my chest cavity to stay intact."
"Sorry I threw you at the wall."
If I rolled my eyes again I'd feel like a queen, so I don't. "That hurt a lot less that when you shoved all those fingers into me, asshole. Don't ever do any of that to anyone, ever."
He stares at me just a second longer than usual, then says, "I'm absolutely coming to the staff parties. I want everyone to know that you put out more than a ten-dollar hooker and fuck like a mink."
He kisses me hard, and I don't know why his lips are pressed against my teeth until I realize that I'm smiling.