Sundays are for Hangovers Page 8

  I crawl to a halt, indeed stuck in traffic on the 295.

  She continues, “In fact, let’s take some calls. What excuse are you giving your boss this morning for why you were late? Does it beat ‘I-was-trying-to-cover-my-Tinderbite-with-foundation-and-failed-miserably?’”

  Big D chuckles. “Okay, Lil, I’ll play your game. Let’s see what our listeners have to say. Call us at 555-732-WXOJ and let us know.”

  I dial the number and wait in a queue while a guy named Brandon complains he’s late because his neighbor’s lawn service blocked his driveway and he couldn’t get out. A lady named Gwen tells us about how her son had a blowout with his diaper and she had to bathe him before she could leave.

  Boring.

  Answer, dammit.

  “This is Big D,” he answers. “You’re on the air. Tell us why you’re late this morning.”

  “Hey, I’m Wonka. I’m late because I spent all night exorcising my crazy neighbor’s demons.” I yawn for effect. “It took up a lot of energy and I was exhausted this morning. Although, I could have been a little later to try one more time.”

  Big D snorts. “We’re calling it exorcising demons these days. That’s a new one. Thanks for calling in, buddy. We’ll take a new caller—”

  “Wait,” Lilith’s voice says. “I need to hear a little more of this story. She sounds like quite the temptation. Definitely worth sinning for.”

  Goddamn, she sounds so sultry on the air. My cock is hard.

  “She does love red,” I admit. “It looks pretty good on her. She just needs a saint to tame her evil ways.”

  She huffs. “I’m not—I’m sure she’s not evil. You sound kind of evil. Big D, he has an evil voice, doesn’t he? Probably does all kinds of crazy crap in his grandma’s basement.”

  I cringe because she’s not far off from the truth…

  Big D snorts.

  “Oh, I’m definitely a saint. This one is as evil as one can get. Would you believe, speaking of Tinder, she sent all her failed Tinder dates to my house. Who does that?”

  Big D laughs and Lilith lets out a hiss.

  “Sounds like you deserved it, to be honest,” she says. “If I were her, I’d fork your yard just for being a pompous little man.”

  “Little?” I choke out. “There is nothing little about me. In fact, she likes to call me Big Willy.” I pause for dramatics. “Like that big killer whale from the 90s movies. Also, she already forked my yard once.” Fuck how that shit pissed me off.

  Big D is laughing, but Lilith is riled up.

  “Usually, if someone goes as far as to buy fifty boxes of forks, they mean business. Their victim totally deserves it. Not to mention, she sounds quite dedicated. Do you know how long it takes to put over seven thousand forks in someone’s grass? All night, Wonka. All night.”

  I laugh. “Well, she definitely has stamina. You’re right about that.”

  “Pig,” she says. “Next caller.”

  “Actually,” Big D tells her chuckling. “Big boss man is waving behind you to keep talking. Apparently, the listeners are blowing up WXOJ’s Twitter feed. They want to know more about the naughty neighbor from hell.”

  “Ughhhhh,” she groans.

  “Do you have all day? Because I have so many stories. Would you know she ‘accidentally’ egged my house once?” I question.

  “Accidental eggings can so happen!” she argues.

  Big D roars with laughter. “And how’s that? Was she on her way to an Easter egg hunt and took a little tumble onto her neighbor’s porch?”

  “She probably was. You’re both pigs. Why are you siding with Not-So-Big Willy over here, D? I thought we were besties,” she says, irritation in her tone.

  “Aww, girl, you’ll always be my favorite. Tell us more, though, Mr. Wonka.”

  “She’s super crazy and obnoxious,” I explain to him. “But she kind of grows on you.”

  “She sounds delightful,” Lilith says.

  “A real peach,” Big D agrees with a snort.

  I hear her slap him and him say, “ow.”

  “I have a problem with her,” I tell them, growing serious.

  “What?” Lilith asks, hurt in her voice.

  “I wanted to ask her out, but she blew out of my house without giving me her number. Even though she’s borderline bananas, I’m quite fond of her cherry lips. What should I do?” I question.

  “Awww,” Big D replies. “She sounds sweet.”

  “Oh, she’s real sweet,” I agree.

  “Anywayyyy,” she draws out, embarrassment in her voice. “Maybe she’ll see him later since they’re neighbors and all.”

  “Maybe he can’t wait that long. Maybe he misses her already,” I mutter.

  Big D chuckles. “Well, maybe he should do a grand gesture like show up at her work and take her out. I bet she’s real fond of cheap beer and greasy cheese sticks. But, hey, aren’t all chicks that way?”

  “Well, I did learn where she works today,” I admit. “It’s a possibility. That would mean leaving work early, though, and I’m already late. I’m not really the kind of guy who lets his job slip to go on dates.”

  “Sounds like she might be worth it, though,” Big D says. “Right, Lil? She sounds worth it?”

  “Totally worth it. Bye now, Wonka. Good luck with all that. And now we have a song called ‘Creep’ by Radiohead. Seems fitting.”

  The connection ends and soon Thom Yorke’s voice fills the line. I’m grinning like an idiot. On the way to work, I plot out a plan to show a wild, colorful, vibrant woman like Lilith Hamilton that I know how to be fun too.

  I can be so fun.

  And if it doesn’t work out, I’ll just reintroduce her to my dick because he’s definitely a fan of fun.

  I did leave work early. I thought my co-workers were going to faint. It just doesn’t happen. Usually, I’m one of the last ones to leave. But, today, I have something important on my agenda.

  Lilith.

  All day long, I thought about her. The way she mewled when I licked her just right. How she’d go quiet when I’d fuck her sweet cunt, her fingers latched into my hair for dear life. This girl is most definitely growing on me and I’m growing on her too. There’s so much I don’t know about her. I want to learn it all.

  I sit outside her radio station, parked next to her sports car, looking very much like the stalker she pegged me as. How does a girl like her even afford a nice car like that on a radio DJ’s salary? I start doing the math when she and a big fella I’ve seen at her house a lot walk outside a back door. She hugs him and he walks off. Her head is down as she heads toward her car, walking slightly bowlegged, I might add. But, goddammit, she looks so pretty. Even in a rush this morning, she somehow managed to pull off a look that makes me want to strip her down and fuck her across the hood of my hybrid.

  She’s wearing holey jeans and charcoal-gray flats. Her white tank top is sheer and reveals a hot pink bra underneath. I’m instantly jealous of every motherfucker who got to look at her all day. Her dark brown hair is now dry but messily pulled into a bun that suits her personality. She must have found some time to put on makeup because when she lifts her chin and sees me, I notice her lashes are painted black and her lips are cherry red, just how I love them.

  “Wow, neighbor, fancy seeing you here,” I tease.

  Her smile is immediate. Shy even. Crimson blooms over her cheeks as she comes to stand right in front of me.

  “You left work early,” she observes. “Isn’t that like Banker Boy No-No 101?”

  I slide my hands to her round ass and pull her against me. “Maybe I’m a bad boy sometimes.”

  She giggles and angles her head up. “I’ll believe that when pigs fly, Wonka. This is probably the most rebellious stunt you ever pulled in your life. I’m a bad influence on you.”

  I don’t tell her she’s wrong.

  Instead, I kiss her bright red lips that are begging for attention. She lets out a pleased moan when I push my tongue into her mouth,
seeking her sweet taste. We make out like a couple of teenagers in her work parking lot until her stomach growls.

  “We should go,” I tell her, my lips peppering kisses along her cheek to the side of her throat.

  “We could stay and do more of this in the back of your Prius.”

  I laugh. “Don’t insult me. I’m a real man. I drive a Camry.”

  “Excuuuuuse me,” she snorts. “I stand corrected.”

  Tugging her keys from her hand, I pull away and stare down at her. “I’m driving your car and we’re going to dinner. Hop in.”

  “Maybe I should go home and dress appropriately,” she says.

  “Nope. You’re perfect. Car. Now.”

  She smirks at my bossiness but actually obeys. Once I’m sitting in her beast of a car, I quickly marvel over the smell of leather and shiny chrome. Sometimes being practical sucks. I’d give my left nut for a car like this.

  But what about your 401k?

  With gritted teeth, I peel out of the parking spot and barrel out onto the road. She laughs at my driving.

  “Slow down, Vin Diesel. I’d like to actually make it to the country club steakhouse in one piece.”

  I raise a brow at her and shoot her a look. “You want steak?”

  She blinks at me in confusion. “What? No. I thought you wanted steak and the country club seemed like a place you’d want to go with that bowtie and all.” Her lips twitch at her dig.

  “Nobody makes better steak than I do, so it’s kind of a pointless fucking endeavor,” I admit with a huff.

  “Well, by all means, take me someplace that meets your impeccable standards, Willy.”

  I drive her downtown and we pass several five-star restaurants. She’s stiff in her seat, but when I flip to her radio station and Pearl Jam belts out, she settles. I make it to a rougher side of town to a little seedy bar called Lenny’s Lounge. Since it’s just after five, I find a spot out front.

  “I certainly didn’t expect this,” she says softly.

  For a moment, I worry she really did want steak.

  “Don’t freak out, Wonka. It’s a good surprise,” she assures me.

  I lean forward and kiss her plump lips before climbing out of her awesome fucking car. When I round the side of the vehicle, she’s already getting out. I offer my hand and she takes it. We walk into the bar and the owner, Lenny, waves at us from behind the counter. I’ve known Lenny since I was a little teenage shit who liked to try and sneak into his establishment. Instead of kicking me out, he gave me a job balancing his checkbook in the back office. One of the few people in my life when I was younger who gave a damn about me.

  “Glad you brought something to brighten up this dingy bar, Will,” Lenny calls out. “What’ll it be for you and the hottie?”

  I guide her over to a table near the empty stage. Nobody’s here yet, but Mondays are karaoke night and in another hour, this place will be hopping.

  “My girl likes greasy cheese sticks and you’re the king of that shit. Bring us some of those, some buffalo wings, and anything else you can scrounge up. We’re hungry,” I tell him.

  “Only if you lose that creepy thing around your neck, Bill Nye the Bowtie Guy,” he shoots back with a chuckle.

  Lilith giggles as I tug off my bowtie.

  “Yeah, yeah. Bring us some shitty beer while you’re at it,” I grumble.

  We settle at a dinky high-top table and I move the ash-stained ashtray to another table. Despite being the shiniest and prettiest thing to ever set foot in this place, she seems relaxed and at peace. It calms my anxiety knowing she’s pleased with my choice.

  Lenny brings us a couple of draft beers in questionably clean glass mugs and then beats on the jukebox until some old Aerosmith song starts playing.

  “Who knew you had the hookup,” Lilith says as she sips her beer. “There’s a lot I don’t know about you, Wonka.”

  I twirl the bowtie in my hands. “I’m full of surprises.”

  “Full of shit is more like it,” she teases, plucking the bowtie from my grip.

  She wraps it around her neck and fastens it. I let out a snort because even though it looks cheesy as fuck with her hot girl outfit, she still rocks it better than I do.

  We spend the next hour eating greasy food and arguing over who was the best rock band from the late nineties as the place fills up with patrons. When she utters out Limp Bizkit, I lose it and nearly spill my third beer all over my lap.

  “It’s six,” Lenny’s voice rumbles on the loud speaker, “and you know what that means.”

  “Karaoke!” everyone yells.

  Lilith is all smiles as she turns toward the stage. The house band, The Goons, plays every song flawlessly for every request. Eventually, after a round of shots, Lilith scoots from her seat and winks at me.

  “I’m going in.”

  I laugh and watch her ass along with every other motherfucker in here as she runs over to the stage. Another guy, a tall, lanky dude, starts for the stage at the same time. When she realizes he wants to be next, she encourages him to go up there with her and they can sing together. People cheer them on and I smile like an idiot. The atmosphere. The beer. The music. But most of all Lilith. This night is better than I could have imagined.

  “Everyone, this is Jace and he tells me he is the lead singer of a band called Fryin’ Pan,” Lilith says into the microphone. She waves a CD. “And lucky me, he gave me his demo. Lucky for him, I’m going to play this on the radio tomorrow. You all better listen or I’m gonna come back here to give you all a piece of my mind. Ready to see if sweet Jace here can sing?”

  The crowd cheers. It’s amazing how she enchants everyone she comes in contact with. She and Jace put their heads together, and I see her moving her hands in animation. Then, she turns her back to the crowd and tells the band. They all nod, grinning. Soon, The Cranberries’ “Zombie” starts playing, the drummer nailing the beat. People are standing, eager for the hot brunette to bring it on.

  She dances in place, showing everyone how sexy she is as the song builds. Then, she brings the microphone to her lips and starts singing the lyrics. I get the fucking chills because she sounds so amazing. When the chorus rolls around, Jace brings in another layer that’s deep and raspy that harmonizes with hers. The original song isn’t a duet, but they make it work somehow. This crazy crowd goes nuts and some old guy with a beer belly head bangs in front.

  She points at me as she sings, her sultry voice speaking to me as though we’re the only ones here. I wink at her, which causes her to smile. Then she’s back to singing the chorus with Jace. I can’t get over the fact she’s such a natural on the stage. I abandon the table and walk past a bunch of people to the stage. Soon, the song is over and she hugs Jace. He seems starstruck and I overhear her telling him she’s going to help him get his music out there. Pride surges through me.

  This. Fucking. Girl.

  She leaps off the stage into my arms and I kiss her sexy mouth.

  “Wonka, I’ve had fun,” she murmurs against my lips.

  I drop her to her feet and grab her hand. “Fun’s not over, baby.”

  She squeals when I lead her through the throng of people to Lenny’s office. We push inside and I lock the door behind us. Our mouths fuse together as I work at her jeans. I manage to get them pushed down her thighs. Then I wrap my arm around her waist and carry her over to Lenny’s desk.

  “Bend over, pretty girl,” I bark out.

  She looks over her shoulder at me and flashes me a sweet smile before folding over the desk and offering me her ass. I pull my aching cock from my slacks and slide the tip of my dick against her wet opening. I’m buzzed, she’s buzzed, and we’re fucking amazing together. I push into her hard enough to make the desk scrape along the old linoleum floor.

  “Oh, God!” she cries out.

  I grip her fleshy ass cheeks and spread her open so I can see her asshole as I slide in and out of her cunt. When I thumb her hole, she lets out a low groan.

  “One d
ay, I’m going to put Big Willy in here,” I tell her, my voice low and husky.

  “You’re so dirty,” she moans.

  “You like it,” I taunt as I slam into her and slap her pale ass.

  Her cunt clenches around me, so I slap her again. She fists some papers on Lenny’s desk as another moan lets loose. I thrust into her hard and punishing. Each time I slap her ass, she seems to get wetter and wetter. I lick my thumb and then apply pressure to her asshole. A groan escapes her when I push it inside. I can feel the added pressure against my dick and it feels so good.

  “Wonka,” she breathes. “You’re crazy.”

  I slap her ass again. “Crazy for you, demon. Now come like a good girl.”

  Her body tightens around me and I slowly fuck her asshole with my thumb. She pushes up on the desk and leans into me. Our skin slaps together, my balls knocking against her clit, making a beautiful noise.

  “Oh, God—” Her words are stolen as her entire body convulses with her orgasm. She clenches around my thumb and her cunt milks my cock straight into my own release. I start to come, but I decide I want to paint her ass with me. Pulling out, I watch with lust-filled appreciation as my thick, ropy, white jets of cum spill all over her ass that now bears my handprint.

  “What a beautiful fucking mess you are, Lilith.”

  Tuesdays are for Getting High

  Just when I thought there wasn’t a bed more comfortable than mine, I land in my neighbor’s bed two days in a row, under a comforter possibly fluffier than mine. Maybe it also had to do with the man curled up sleeping behind me, with his large hand cupping my breast while he breathes heavily in my ear.

  Sex and slumber parties at Will’s are the best.

  I smile thinking of waking up like this all the time. It’s been a while, more like never, since I’ve woken up to someone. But I’m totally starting to get why people have sleepovers.

  I stretch my neck to get a glimpse of Will’s clock. He made sure to set, check, and double-check the alarm last night, making sure we didn’t have another mishap like yesterday before he shut the lights off, not needing light to ravage me. He seemed to already have my body memorized.