Sundays are for Hangovers Read online

  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.

  Saturdays are for Swiping Right

  No, no, no…

  “Dude, none of these guys look legit. And this guy looks like a total serial killer!”

  We’re sitting in my kitchen and I’m swiping through the Tinder app Daryl finally convinced me to download. After yesterday’s mishap, I realized just how desperately I needed some action. Daryl and I hope I’ll find a solid guy to work out all my frustration with before I make a judgement error and have super spontaneous sex with Wonka.

  “Girl, you’ve passed like twenty guys in a matter of three seconds. You’re being too damn picky.” He tries to snatch up my phone, but I pull away.

  “How is making sure my lady parts don’t get murdered or get the clap being too picky?”

  Daryl sighs, sitting back on the island bar stool. “Just pick one. If he ain’t who he says he is, I’ll scare him off.”

  At that, I laugh. “What? You gonna stick around just to make sure he gets me off too?”

  Daryl looks like I just gave him cooties. “Ew, girl, you’re like my sister. I don’t wanna hear you moan and groan on that dick. Just saying if he ain’t who he says he is, I’d be here to tell him to get gone.”

  As much as that sounds like a good idea, something else comes to mind. “I actually have a better idea.” I go into the app. There were a few who weren’t so bad-looking. Jerald, thirty-five, looks to be eight miles away. His tagline says, I hope you have a big trunk because I’m gonna put my bike in it
. Not sure where that bike is really going but screw it. I swipe right. “Shit, here we go—”

  An instant ding chimes back telling me good ol’ Jerald, swiped right back. “Geez, that was fast.”

  We’re both leaning into my phone, waiting for something to happen. “So, what happens now?”

  Another ding, notifying me I have a message.

  “This dude is eager to get on it.” Daryl laughs, leaning closer, so we can both read the message.

  Jerald: Sup hot stuff. Glad u like what u see. Hope ur hungry. Want me to cum to u? Daddy gonna fill u up.

  “What in God’s name?” I ask, shocked, while Daryl’s rolling off his chair laughing.

  “What exactly is he going to fill me up with?” I’m confused. I turn to Daryl, who’s holding his chest laughing hysterically. I smack him on the shoulder. “I’m for real. What’s he talking about?”

  “Girl, don’t worry, just tell him you’re hungry and come on over.” He chuckles and I just shrug my shoulders and reply.

  Me: Great. Can’t wait. Come to my place.

  I quickly punch in the address.

  “Ain’t that your neighbor’s house number, Lil?”

  “Sure is, D. That way if he shows up and he’s not who he says he is, we don’t have to worry. We stay inside and let the neighbor shoo him off. If he is, then I simply pop out my front door and silly ol’ me will tell him I must have typed in the wrong address. Blame it on how famished I am.”

  Daryl starts to laugh again as I click send.

  “Now we wait.”

  Daryl makes himself comfortable on the couch while I go and find something sexy to wear. I put on a red lace bra and panties and throw on my cream silk robe. Since Jerald is only eight miles away I know I have limited time to prep.

  “A car’s pullin’ up!” Daryl shouts and I come running down the hallway. We both dart to the side window, which gives us a perfect view of the neighbor’s front porch.

  “Oh shit, he’s getting out… Oh shit, is he wearing leggings?”

  “Damn, is he wearing a chick’s top?”

  We’re both staring out the window, our eyes popped as we watch a suped-up version of Lance Armstrong walk up Will’s porch steps.

  “I guess the bike comment makes sense now,” I say, and Daryl gives me a get a clue look. “What? He obviously rides bikes.”

  “Honey, you need to get out more.”

  Whatever. I look back next door and—

  “Whoa” and “What the?” come flying out of our mouths at once.

  “Dude, where’s his dick?”

  I’m wondering the same thing.

  “Does he have that shit tucked back?” Daryl asks, pressing his face closer to the window.

  “Hell if I know!”

  We watch as Jerald walks up to the door and knocks.

  “Okay. What’re you gonna do? Not sure this is the guy. I mean, he tucked his shit. Who tucks their dick and balls?”

  Again, how the hell should I know? I’m not a dude. Maybe it’s a biker thing. Okay, maybe not. “Hard pass,” I say and shake my head. I’m not even fully convinced that’s a dude.

  A few seconds pass, and the door opens. Will steps out, looking confused as to why there’s a she-dude on his porch. We can’t see what words are being exchanged, but I’m pretty sure it’s something like,

  Jerald: “Hi, I’m looking for Candy. She swiped right and now I’m gonna put my bike in her.”

  Wonka: “There’s no Candy here, but your car is leaking oil onto my driveway. Get off my property before I call the cops, my HOA buddies, and the mayor.”

  Jerald: “Got it. Any chance you’d be inter—”

  “He’s leaving. Your neighbor doesn’t look happy.”

  Wah, wah. When does he? Oh, I don’t know. He looked pretty content when his tongue was down your throat yesterday. I can actually still taste the mint and coffee off his tongue.

  Eventually, we remove ourselves from the window. We take a seat on the couch and grab for my phone. “Okay, that was a bust,” I say, opening the app. I go through another round of pics until I find another decent one.

  “Okay, how about Biff?”

  “His name is Biff? What is this, Back to the Future?” Daryl laughs, shaking his head and forcing me to pass on poor Biff.

  “Fine, what about this one?” I stop on Phil. Not the sexiest name, but his profile pic is kinda hot. “He’s younger than me. But that can be a good thing, right?” Not that it’s by much. It says he’s twenty-five, but age is only a number. His tagline reads, I might be young, but I need you to help me grow, with a fancy picture made of letters and symbols. “Wait, is that supposed to be a—”

  A dick. He made a dick using letters and symbols. Wow.

  “He’s entrusting you to make his dick grow, yes.”

  Shit. That was creative.

  I decide to give him a shot. I approve of his picture talent. I swipe right.

  This one takes a few minutes longer to reply. I get up and grab some beers while Daryl uses the bathroom. It’s after I’m forced to open a few windows because he bombed out my toilet that we hear the ding.

  “We’re in!” I yell as Daryl makes his way back to the living room. I type in the same message, wanting him to come to my place, and offer up Wonka’s address. Phil was fifteen miles away but responds that he’s actually right around the corner. Only a few minutes pass until we’re back up at the window and see a car pull up in front of his house.

  “Oh, hell no.”

  “Is this really happening?” I ask in amazement as we both witness Phil, looking closer to nineteen, get out of what looks like it could be his mother’s car.

  “Dude, is that his mom dropping him off for a booty call?” Just then we hear him yell back to the car. “Thanks, Mom. Pick me up in an hour.”

  “Oh, hell no! Girl, another pass.”

  “Well, no fucking shit! I’m not a creep!” I mean, I don’t think I am. The kid is still kinda cute. Sandy blond hair and tall. He’s wearing glasses, but for some reason those particular ones just don’t do it for me. He’s wearing a pair of skinny jeans and a—

  “Is that Justin Bieber on his shirt?” I can’t even with this. I bust out laughing.

  Daryl joins in as we watch reject number two bang on Wonka’s door. Same as before, Will answers, stepping outside onto his porch looking pissed. As their lips move, I’m hearing:

  Wonka: “Whatever it is you’re selling I’m not buying it. Are you registered with the city to be selling door to door?”

  Bieber/Phil: “Bro, I’m here for Candy? I only have an hour so…”

  Wonka: “There is no Candy here.”

  Bieber/Phil: “Nah, bro. I want to do Candy, not eat it. Well, maybe eat her—”

  “Damn yo, your neighbor’s brutal. Poor kid just went running. I wonder what the hell he said to him.”

  “No idea,” I say and pull away from the window. I crack open a fresh beer and toss myself back onto the couch. Well, this isn’t going as planned. “I thought you said this app was legit?” I take a swig of my beer. Maybe it’s a sign. I’m not meant to have random sex. I need to do it the old-fashioned way and go to church. That’s where all the good men are.

  “You have some strange-ass luck.” Daryl pops open his beer and falls onto the seat next to me.

  “Well, what do we do now?”

  He shrugs. “I guess we keep at it until we find the one.”

  Five beers later and another three failed swipe attempts, we’re sitting on my couch in tears at the latest failed swipe. “Oh my God. Did you even see him? I swear he was wearing makeup,” I snort, taking a sip of my drink.

  “You two could share fashion tips,” Daryl says, holding his chest.

  “I don’t know, I really think I should have said yes to Freedom, though. I mean, who names their kid Freedom?”

  Daryl almost spits out his sip. “The dude’s tagline said, ‘I need you to free-dom nuts.’ What did you expect?”

  I
barrel over, the tears falling down my cheeks I’m laughing so hard. I’m concentrating so hard on not peeing my pants, when my front door flies open. I lift to see Will storming into my house.

  Shit!

  “Uh, yeah…normal people knock.” I get up, my cheeks flaming red to match his anger. Yep, he doesn’t look happy. “Geez, Willy, having a bad day?” I try and play it off, but I have a small itch that tells me he may have caught on.

  He’s up in my face and I can’t help but inhale the scent of him. I can tell he’s freshly showered by the aroma of soap and cologne seeping into my nostrils.

  “You having fun over here, Lilith? Or should I call you Candy?”

  Yep, gig’s up. Doesn’t mean I should give up, though. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about. I never pegged you for one to role play—”

  He cuts my banter short, grabbing my waist and pulling my body into his. The air expels from my lungs at the way he feels pressed against me. The humor in me dies as I stare into his angry blue eyes. God, he’s hot. Even more so when he’s mad. Not that I’ve ever seen him not mad. His jaw is tight, but it only accentuates his sharp cheekbones and his perfect, sexy nose. His skin is tanned and smooth. There’s no doubt he takes care of himself. I make a mental note to ask about his daily regiment, when his grip on me tightens. His head lowers and I swear he’s about to kiss me. Do it…do it. Oh God, kiss me again. He might be a bad idea, but hot damn does this man know how to kiss. And ever since the first time, the memory hasn’t left my mind. I may or may not have done a little bit of masturbating to the thought.

  He lowers his head and my eyes close. My lips part as I await his mouth on mine. But it never comes. He passes my mouth, leaning past me, and snags my phone out of my robe pocket.

  “Hey! That’s mine!” I bark, trying to get it back, but he’s making it impossible to grab with his long arm holding me away. “Dude, Wonka, you can’t just take my phone!”

  He ignores me.

  Right about now I wish I had a lock on my phone. I hated always having to remember the passcode at night after a few too many. The countless amount of times I locked myself out, so I disabled the feature. “Will, seriously…”