annoying sexy next door neighbor

It was 2:38 a.m., I was officially done! Done with this demon disguised as my next door neighbor.

The sound of earth shattering bass reverberated off my walls.

This was demon-level, windows-vibrating, mattress-buzzing, spiritual warfare bass.

My thin wall thumped in rhythm.

Even my lamp rattled.

"Ughhhhhhhh for God sake"

I had a lot of meetings at work in the morning, my day promised to be hectic but my neighbor didn't give a toss about my few hours of much needed sleep.

I could swear he was hosting Coachella in his living room.

Again. Almost every night, he did this. Played ear deafening music in the middle of the night.

I groaned into my pillow, rolled over, and pulled it over my ears.

Nothing changed. The music just laughed louder.

“Unbelievable,” I  muttered, sitting up.

Enough was enough.

I swung my legs out of bed, tugged on an oversized T-shirt that slid off one shoulder and tiny shorts that barely counted as clothing. It was just a quick visit to tell him to shut the darn thing. I was Sleepy, irritated, hair wild, but determined.

If he wanted to be loud, I  was about to be louder.

The hallway outside my apartment was quiet, dimly lit, peaceful.

Which only made the booming chaos from his place even more disrespectful.

I  marched up to his door and knocked.

Hard.

Nothing. No response.

I  knocked again, louder this time.

Still no response.

My jaw clenched. Was he ignoring me or had he gotten deaf from the loud music.

I  started pounding like the building was on fire.

After a long moment, the music finally dipped.

The sound of heavy Footsteps approached.

The door creaked open.

My  anger paused for a second.

Because standing there was… trouble.

Low-riding denim shorts hung loose on narrow hips, exposing a deep V of muscle that disappeared into shadow. His chest was bare, inked with tattoos that curled and stretched over broad shoulders and strong arms.

He had dark eyes and a lazy smirk. A man who looked like sleep was optional and sin was a hobby.

For one terrible second, I forgot why I  was there.

Then the bass kicked back up behind him.

My focus snapped.

“Do you ever sleep?” I  snapped. “Or do you just enjoy terrorizing the entire building every night?”

His smirk widened slowly, like he was savoring my voice.

“Damn,” he said, eyes dragging over my legs, my shirt, my messy hair. “You came over looking like that just to yell at me?”

Heat crawled up my neck. Why was he staring at me like I was a late night snack.

“Turn the music down.”

He leaned against the doorframe, I tried and failed miserably not to look at his ripped abs and muscle. He was like a geek god. I wanted to trace every tattoo, every vein I could see. I wanted to lick-

“I can’t.” he answered, bringing me back from my straying thoughts.

I  blinked. What the hell was I thinking “You can. You just won’t.”

“Nah,” he said lazily. “I need it loud.”

“For what?” I  shot back. “Your imaginary nightclub?”

His gaze dipped. Lingered.

Then he said calmly, “for my jerk off sessions. I masturbate at night”

Silence.

My brain short-circuited. Did I mishear?

“You… what?”

“Through the night,” he continued, unbothered. “And I’m loud about it. Music covers the moaning.”

My mouth opened.

Closed.

Opened again.

“You’re lying.”

He shrugged. “Im not. You wanna test that theory?”

My pulse did something reckless. Did he want me to see for myself? He was so shameless.

“Cut the bullshit,” I  snapped, even as my face burned. “Just turn it down and go to bed.”

He tilted his head. “Is that your way of asking to hear me instead?”

My breath caught.

Because now I  was imagining it.

His deep Low voice. Rough. Cussing and moaning my name while he stroked his cock. I'd pay to watch.

My body absolutely did not need that mental movie.

He saw it.

The shift. My hooded eyes and pounding heart.

The way my thighs pressed together.

The way my lips parted.

“Oh,” he murmured. “You’re blushing.”

“Shut up.”

He stepped closer. Not touching. Just close enough to make me beg for him to touch me.

“You never heard a guy jerk off before, Taylor?”

My name on his mouth felt sinful. I wanted to tell him to say it again. Slower this time.

“How do you know my name?” I asked instead.

“Mailbox,” he said softly. “And now I won’t forget it.”

My heart was sprinting. Where did all these sexual tension come from?

“This is ridiculous,” I  said breathlessly. “Just lower the music.”

He studied my for a second longer, eyes dark, then finally reached back and turned the volume all the way down.

“You asked for it. Sleep tight, Taylor.”

I  didn’t trust my voice to respond.

I  spun and walked back to my apartment like my legs weren’t trembling.

Once inside, I  locked the door, leaned against it, and exhaled.

“What is wrong with me,” I  whispered.

My body still hummed.

I  changed slowly, tugging my shirt off, sliding under the covers.

Blessed silence.

Finally.

My eyes closed.

Peace.

Then—

His voice.

Low. Rough. Through the wall.

“Taylor…”

My breath hitched.

“You really thought I was lying?” I heard him say.

My stomach flipped.

The bed creaked faintly on the other side.

“God… you looked so good standing there mad at me.”

Heat bloomed between my thighs.

“I wanted to pull you in. Make you watch as I stroked my cock and cummed all on myself.”

My pulse thundered in my ears.

“Let you hear me say your name like this.”

A soft groan followed. I could hear the faint sloppy sounds of him stroking himself.

My back arched slightly without permission.

“This is insane,” I  whispered.

But my hand was already slipping beneath the covers.

"What are you doing Taylor?" I heard him ask.

“Touching yourself too, huh?” he murmured through the wall, voice thick. “I can feel it.”

My breath stuttered.

“How would you sound if It was my finger in your tight little cunt?” he whispered. “Would you be loud for me, Taylor?”

My fingers played with my clit. slow, shaky. This man was driving me off the edge with all that dirty talk. A little moan escaped me.

The wall creaked again.

A rough curse came from his throat.

“fuck… you’re driving me crazy Taylor. You moan like a fucking princess”

I was soaked and I needed a release, quickly.

I  reached for my vibrator, hands trembling, turning it on low.

The soft hum felt illegal.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “I hear it.”

My lips parted in a silent gasp. My cheeks turned red.

“Don’t stop. I wish I was the one fucking you with that vibrator. I'd make your toes curl princess'

The tension coiled tight in my belly.

I covered my mouth with my hand. I didn't want to give him the victory of hearing me moan for him, fall apart from just the sound of his voice.

This stranger. This jerk. This voice through a wall.

It was madness.

It was heat.

It was everything.

His moans grew louder, rougher, broken, breathless.

“Taylor… damn… I'm going to cum, would you come for me princess?”

He'd already given me a silly nickname. And I wanted to cum for him. I Increased the pressure of the vibrator and put it against my clit.

The pleasure climbed fast now, too fast.

My back arched.

My breath shook.

The world narrowed to sensation and sound and heat.

Then it broke.

My body trembled as release waI d through my, soft cry caught in my throat.

On the other side of the wall, his voice fell apart too.

A deep groan. He said my name like a prayer.

"Please let me cum Taylor, fuck! I'm cumming"

Silence followed.

my chest rose and fell.

Heart racing.

Mind spinning.

The building settled back into quiet.

I  stared at the ceiling, dazed.

“I just… got off with my neighbor through a wall,” I  whispered.

"Fuck Taylor, I made a mess, my cum's everywhere but inside you"