2) Candy Packs a Punch

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You should definitely listen to the song with this. ;)

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        Moments after my mother left my apartment, Rebel Yell by Billy Idol blasted from the killer next door’s, pounding the walls and shaking the floor that I paced back and forth on.

        The song choice was clever, I’d give him that, being the night before my neighbor’s “girl” as he put it, had been thoroughly fucked, shrieking like a mad woman. The song choice was also a bit…promising.

        “I’ll fuck that tight, wet pu$$y of yours ten times better than I fucked hers…” a husky, baritone voice slid into my skull.

            I shivered violently, and then slapped myself once. “Come on, Scarlett. Get a hold of yourself. You can do this,” I coached myself, stepping into my closet. The only benefit of my new apartment was easily the walk in closet. The toilet clogged easily, the landline wasn’t hooked up, and the shower never warmed up the way it used to back home...

        I began to search for something more on the conservative side and authoritative to wear in front of my psychotic neighbor. That Mickey Mouse sweatshirt I had been wearing the night before surely had given him the impression that I was a pushover. Uh-uh, psycho. I’m showing you whose business. The guilt of not calling the authorities was eating me alive. I hadn’t slept a wink the night before. I was certain I wouldn’t ever sleep again if I didn’t at least say something to him.

        The ball was in his court. He said he would stop be to see me, and instead of giving him the upper hand and acting like his toy, I was stopping to see him. Ha! And you better believe I was armed with a knife, too!

 

         I settled for a grey chunky pullover and black leggings, pulled my hair up in a tight bun, threw open my apartment door, and pounded on my neighbor’s door. Rebel Yell was still playing in there, and for a moment, I wondered ifhe was “busy” again, like the night before.

           

            Is he going to kill this one, too?

            I was about to give up, when mid-knock, Neighbor from Hell’s door flew open and I was suddenly at eye-level with the most deliciously chiseled body I had ever seen in my life. His skin was tan and slick with sweat. On his right pectoral there was a tattoo in black gothic print that read: respect, loyalty, honor, and there was a scattering of other tattoos on his exposed shirtless skin. 

               I watched a drop of sweat slide down the defined ridges of his abdominals, disappearing past the delicious deep V below his torso and into the waistband his black jogger pants.

              Oh, silly me. Did I forget to mention that he had an massive (and he was clearly proud of it, by the way he wasn't making any effort to cover himself) er3ction?

            “Ciao bella. Sorry I didn't answer the door, I was working out. ” My eyes flew up to his face, and I found a very conceited, wolfish smile framing my beautiful neighbor’s face. He knew damn well his body was perfect. “See something you like, candy?” he asked in that deep, sultry voice of his, sending that flush of heat all the way down to the South Pole.

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