Page 5 of Big Burly Neighbor
Her brows pressed together, she cocks her head in confusion, but I give her no time for questions. This is how I show her. This is the one way to show her she’s the only one that matters, that her body is the only one I desire, and that she is too good for me. I let the container drop to our feet, then bury both my hands into her hair. She gasps in surprise, and I devour the sound by kissing the hell out of her.
Aileen’s curvy body is so damn small next to mine. I’m huge, covering her entirely, caging her against the wall. Her hands come up around my waist, clinging to my shirt as I lick at the seam of her lips, then press for passage. She opens her mouth, and I dive in, eating up with long strokes of my tongue, fierce swipes tasting every inch of her. Aileen is as delicious as I expected, coconut and brown sugar. She’s comfort, and she entices me with one look.
I can never have enough of her.
She kisses me back, shyly at first, gaining confidence with every second. My body glues to hers, my erection pressed against her stomach, but she doesn’t complain. She doesn’t fight to step away. She lets me smell her hair, kiss her cheek, and suck on her earlobe. Fuck, a part of me wants to rip off her clothes and bury my cock inside her. Right now, right here. She’d cream me with a couple of thrusts, and I’d make her feel so damn good she’d never want another...
But, no. I can’t do that, not to her. She’s too precious, too important, too pure. Aileen lets me kiss her. Lets me touch her. And I will do right by her, even if it’s the last thing I do.
Slowly, I break the kiss. It’s hard, to step away from her, but I manage. Her lips are swollen, and she opens heavy eyelids to stare at me, her vivid eyes burning green. It takes every inch of my strength to keep my hands away. My hands shake with how much I want to mark her. To claim her forever.
“That was...” she starts, then chuckles. “Wow, that was amazing.”
“You are amazing,” I reply, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Shit, this look on you might end me.”
“What look?” she asks, but she knows what I mean. I can tell she does, with the burning eyes, and the pink cheeks. Her plump lips parted, almost begging to have my cock sliding over her tongue...
A door rattles in the corridor. I shoot up straighter, noticing the open gap in my door. I shouldn’t close it. Fuck, if I close the door with her inside, I have no idea what’s going to happen. My cock almost bursts through my zipper at the thought. Amassing all that’s left of my self-control, I grab the container off the ground and open the door.
“Thanks for the cookies,” I tell her, my body wound up as hell, muscles aching in my shoulders and down my back. “I’ll be working today, but are you free tomorrow?”
She nods, then walks out. “Just knock on my door,” she replies in a soft voice. “Anytime.” Then she turns to leave, greeting the neighbor before darting to the elevators. I watch her go, enchanted by the sight of her until she’s disappeared behind metal doors.
The neighbor stands there. A guy her age, holding his door open, watching her go as well. The sight sobers me up. What the fuck does he think he’s doing?
He turns to me, then juts his chin in greeting. “I don’t think we’ve ever met. I’m Billy.” And he offers a hand.
I glare at his rat-like face, pointy nose, and beady eyes, and I immediately hate him. That might make me the less man, but I don’t shake his hand. “Zion.”
He lets his hand drop. “Did you see that ass?” he says, then chuckles. “Fuck, this girl is a pure bimbo, isn’t she? Walks around in her panties all the time. I’d usually prefer my women with less meat, but I don’t refuse a free show, am I right?” And he closes his hand in the air and motions his fist up and down.
The motherfucker.
I move before I think. Punching the wall next to his head, I lower to glower into his eyes, his fearful eyes. He diminishes, trembling in fear as I cage him in, roaring straight into his face. “Do not fucking dare look at her again,” I spit. “Or I will fucking kill you.”
He nods, then rushes into his apartment, locking the door behind him. The second he’s gone, I notice the madness I’m in, my heart thundering in my chest, every beat a storm in my ears. Fuck, I’m out of my mind. What am I doing?
Am I threatening someone for doing the same shit I do? Is that how far gone I am? Shit, this is wrong. Aileen’s too good for me, and I’m just another perv. And yet...
I can’t get her out of my head. I can’t erase her voice and the way she smells. The truth is that I’m obsessed, and I will do anything to touch her again. To catch a glimpse of her, even when I know I’m rotten.
She has my heart. She has my entire soul.
5
AILEEN
My coffeemaker pours out fresh coffee into my prettiest mug as I gaze at my new curtains. White fabric, flimsy and ethereal, the stuff out of fairy tales. How could I have taken so long to think of it? It fits my aesthetic so much. With the windows and blinds open, the curtains dance softly to the almost non-existent breeze, making it look like a dream.
The curtains let whatever little light in, maintaining my privacy. I could stand here in my bra and panties, and the neighbors wouldn’t see it, just like Zion asked.
Zion. He’s been on my mind ever since we last talked, ever since his lips set me on fire. The memory of his mouth on mine, his hands in my hair, and his body against my own... Everything is too much.Thatfelt like a dream, like something more than reality. The warmth, how hard he desired me, and how he made me feel special for the first time in my life.
This thing I do, romanticizing my ordinary existence, is just a way to make the routine easier to handle. I know I’m ordinary, that I’m just another plus-size girl in a world only the skinny ones deserve praise, deserve love. Even the skinny ones don’t have it easy. The world out there is cruel to women, and it wants us to think we’re less. We deserve less, and we should never ask for more than the crumbs we’ve been given.
Romanticizing is my way to challenge it. It’s my way to give meaning to my life, to bring out the beauty in the simplest of things.
For the first time, I don’t feel like I need to do it. Zion touches me like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever seen. Like I’m beautiful beyond measure. Something holy. And even when I learned those are possible red flags, I don’t care about his possessive ways. About how he doesn’t want the neighbors to see me, how jealous he acts, and how he wants me for himself.
