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 yells 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.
Hurt flashes in her eyes. “You think I’d fuck some married man?”
“No,” I concede with a huff, “but you could at least throw your shit in the married man next door’s trash can. Why does it always have to be mine?”
Her lips quirk up on one side in amusement. “Why can’t you ever call and bitch about Mr. Paulson, your other neighbor, and his dog that likes to shit in everyone’s yards? Why do you always pick on me?” She’s being playful, not actually upset. I think she likes it when she has my undivided attention.
I push my glasses up my nose and slide my palm to her hip. Her mouth parts and for a moment, neither of us has anything to say.
“Because you like me, Wonka,” she taunts. “Admit you annoy the hell out of me because you like—”
I stop whatever it was that was going to come out of her mouth by pressing my lips to hers. She’s frozen for a moment, but when I spear my tongue into her mouth, she lets out a moan that drives the animal inside of me fucking wild. Releasing her wrists, I tangle my hand in her silky hair as I kiss her hard. Furious and punishing. I suck on her tongue and then bite her. She whimpers but pushes her fat tits against my bare chest, desperate for more.
She, my little next door neighbor from hell, tastes like heaven.
My hand slides up beneath the fabric of her tank along the side of her ribs. She’s breathing heavy and I can’t stop kissing her perfect goddamned mouth. We’re headed down a path we can’t come back from with my hand inching higher toward her tits when her home phone starts ringing.
“Don’t stop,” she breathes.
I can’t stop. I’m seconds away from tearing off her clothes and fucking her against her wall. I nip at her tongue until a loud, high-pitched voice comes on the answering machine.
“Lilith? Lilith, honey, are you there?”
She freezes in my grip, all heat evaporating from her. “Shit.”
“Your father says it’s this weekend or else. Lance misses you. I know he’d propose if you just gave him three seconds of your time. Bring your tennis racket. We haven’t played in ages, darling.”
Who the fuck is Lance?
She pushes me away. “Party’s over! Gotta go!”
I frown at her sudden change of personality. It’s then I let it sink in what we’d just been doing—what would have happened if we weren’t interrupted.
I can’t fuck Lilith Hamilton. I barely even like her.
Lies.
The woman on the recorder, whom I assume is her mother, babbles on and on. Lilith goes from being a bubbly seductress to tense and stressed. I want to ask her about it, but she’s pushing me out the door.
“Keep your abs on your property,” she bites out as she pushes me onto the porch. “Keep Big Willy over there too.” She gestures at my very obvious erection in my slacks. “Adios, Wonka.”
I stewed all day at work over the kiss that almost led to so much more. She’s making me lose my mind. I even made an error on a calculation and damn near accused the head of the mortgage department of fraud. What an ass I felt like when I reran the numbers only to conclude I was, in fact, wrong.
I’m never wrong.
I yank off my T-shirt and wipe the sweat from my face as I run. My phone is playing some old-school Metallica. The loud, raging guitars not only make me want to pull out my own guitar and start plucking away on some songs, but it also helps pump me up into realizing this morning was a mistake.
Lilith is hot, no doubt.
But I can’t stand her.
How does one want to fuck someone they hate?
I’m just rounding the corner to my street when I nearly trip over my own feet and fall. Lilith, in a black bikini top and a pair of cut-off daisy duke shorts, is washing her cherry-red Mustang in her driveway. The sun is going down, but the sunlight seems to seek her out. Golden strands in her hair catch the light and glimmer. I trot to a stop just to stare.
Fuck, there goes my resolve.
Wet. Bangin’ body. Tits and curves and that ass.
I’m hopeless.
I catch the old man, Mr. Daniels, across the street swinging in his porch swing, a goofy grin on his gray-whiskered face. It makes me want to build a fence in front of her house so he can’t look at her. Being President of the HOA, I could probably even get away with it…
“Yo, Wonka,” she calls out as I near. “You’re looking hot.”
I puff out my bare chest and smirk because at least someone notices all the hard work—
All thoughts are dashed when cold water blasts me in the face.
“Better cool you off!” she yells as she sprays me down.
She shoots my glasses right off my face and I end up dropping my shirt. I don’t stop to pick my shit up but instead chase down the blur who is now running from me while trying to soak me at the same time. I hook an arm around her wet waist but end up stumbling over my own feet since I can’t see where the fuck I’m going. We land in her grass with a collective “oomph.” She’s face down and my dick is conveniently pressed against her ass.
“You live to antagonize me,” I grumble as I bury my nose in her hair and inhale her.
She wiggles and the only thing she’s successful at doing is making me impossibly harder. “You started it.”
“And I’ll finish it.”
I tug at the string on her neck and then the one at her mid back. With a quick pull, I relieve her of her bikini top.
“Oh no, you just didn’t!” she squeals, a loud, adorable laugh escaping from her.
It’s then as I rise to my feet with her top in my hand that I realize my crazy neighbor is getting under my skin. She’s burying herself deep inside of me so I can’t think or focus on anything else. And I’m not sure I want to anyway.
She stands with her palms covering her perfect tits. Her smile is wicked as she arches a brow at me and backs up toward her house. “It’s on, Wonka. It’s fucking on.”
I smirk at her cute, dirty mouth. “Technically it’s off, demon girl.” I sling her top over my shoulder and walk over to collect my glasses and shirt. “Just face it, you’re not winning anything.” I slide on my glasses so I can fully appreciate the swells of her tits barely contained by her tiny hands.
Her back hits the front door and she shrugs. “We’ll see.”
And then she flips me off before slipping inside her house.
But not before me and Mr. Daniels get a nice, quick peek of a perfect tit I’m convinced I won’t see the last of.
Game on, Lilith, game on.