Chapter 13; Dirty Neighbours 1.2

Lena barely slept that night. Every time she closed her eyes, she heard his voice again, low, amused, commanding. “Don’t stop now, neighbor.”

Her body stayed restless, thighs slick even hours later. She touched herself twice more before dawn, whispering into the dark, imagining it was him.

The next day dragged. Work felt distant. All she could think about was 11 p.m.

Would he do it again?

Would he talk to her through the wall?

Would she answer?

She came home early, showered, ate nothing. Dressed in a thin tank top and shorts—nothing sexy on purpose, but nothing to hide either.

She sat on her bed at 10:55, heart hammering, waiting.

At 11:02, the sounds started.

Same creak of the bed. Same low groan.

But no woman’s voice this time.

Just him, alone.

He was stroking himself. Slow. Deliberate.

The rhythm was different, longer pauses, heavier breaths.

Then his voice, clear, close, like he was speaking right against the wall.

“You there tonight, neighbor?”

Lena’s breath hitched. She pressed her palm to the wall.

“I know you are,” he continued. “I can feel it. You’re listening. Touching yourself already, aren’t you?”

She didn’t answer. But her fingers slipped under her shorts anyway.

“Tell me,” he said. “Say something. Let me hear that pretty voice.”

She swallowed. Whispered, barely audible, “I’m here.”

A low, satisfied groan came through the wall.

“Good girl.”

The bed creaked louder. Faster.

“Slide your fingers inside,” he instructed. “Two. Deep. Pretend it’s me.”

Lena obeyed, slow at first, then deeper. She bit her lip to keep quiet.

“I want to hear you,” he said. “Moan for me. Let me know how wet you are thinking about my cock instead of your fingers.”

She whimpered, soft, needy. The sound carried.

“Fuck… that’s it,” he growled. “Louder. I want to hear how much you need it.”

She moaned again, clearer this time. Her fingers moved faster, matching the rhythm she heard from his side.

“You sound so fucking sweet,” he rasped. “Bet you’re dripping. Bet that tight little pussy is clenching around your fingers wishing it was me stretching you.”

Lena’s free hand gripped the sheet. “Yes…” she breathed.

“Say my name,” he demanded.

“I don’t know it,” she gasped.

A dark chuckle. “It’s Jace. Say it.”

“Jace…” The word felt filthy coming out of her mouth.

He groaned louder, stroking faster. “Again.”

“Jace, fuck, Jace”

“That’s it. Keep saying it while you fuck yourself. Imagine me pinning you to this wall. My cock slamming into you. My hand around your throat telling you to take every inch.”

Lena’s hips bucked. She was close, thighs trembling, breath ragged.

“Come for me, Lena,” he said suddenly.

Her eyes widened. “How do you—”

“I heard your friend call you that yesterday in the hallway,” he admitted. “Now come. Let me hear you shatter.”

She did, hard, back arching, fingers buried deep, crying out his name as her walls pulsed and clenched. Wetness coated her hand, dripping onto the sheets.

He followed seconds later, deep, guttural groan, bed thumping against the wall once, twice, then silence.

After a minute his voice came again, soft, almost tender.

“Night, Lena.”

She lay there, panting, spent, smiling despite the flush of embarrassment.

She still hadn’t seen his face.

Still didn’t know what he really looked like.

But she knew his voice. His name.

And she knew she wanted more.

The next morning she left for work early.

As she locked her door, she heard his open across the hall.

Footsteps.

She turned.

There he was, tall, broad, shouldered, dark hair messy from sleep, wearing only low-slung sweatpants.

Tattoos on his chest and arms.

Eyes the same dark brown she’d imagined.

He looked at her, slow, knowing smile spreading across his face.

“Morning, neighbor.”

Lena’s mouth went dry.

He stepped closer, close enough she could smell his skin, feel the heat.

“You gonna pretend you didn’t moan my name last night?”

She lifted her chin, trying to look brave. “You gonna pretend you didn’t beg me to come louder?”

His smile turned wicked.

Then he reached past her, unlocked his door agai, and pushed it open.

“Get in here,” he said, voice low. “We’re done talking through walls.”

Lena’s heart slammed.

She had two choices:

Walk away.

Or step inside.

She stepped inside.

The door clicked shut behind her.