Fucking her dominant neighbor 2

Her entire body trembled as the room became silent for a couple of seconds. Suddenly, it came. A guttural growl, followed by a broken, choked sound from the woman.

 She could hear their ragged breathing. She didn’t need to see it to know that he was emptying himself into her mouth, and she was swallowing every drop like a good little slut, just like he told her.

 Madeline’s own breath came in harsh. Her fingers were slick, and her body was strung so tight she thought she might snap. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. Just as she was about to reach her climax, the room went quiet.

 No more moans. No more growls. Just the soft murmur of voices that was too low to catch, followed by total silence. Madeline lay there trembling. Her fingers were still between her thighs. She wasn't happy. Caleb had set her on fire and left her to burn.

 He literally dragged her to the edge and left her hanging, panting like some desperate slut in heat. Gosh, she hated it. Hated him. Hated how wet she still was.

 She wished he could come to her room and see what he did to her and take responsibility. She wanted him. Wanted him to do to her what he just did to that other girl.

 Out of frustration, she yanked her hand away. Her skin was sticky with sweat, but all she could think about was him. Her new neighbor with brutal thrusts and a dick that made women scream through windows.

  She was craving him already. She doesn't just want... she needs him. She wished to know what it felt like to be the one pinned under him... to hear those words spat against her ear. She wanted to feel his hand fisted in her hair while he made her choke on him.

 The thought made her thighs press together, and she swallowed hard, forcing her breathing to slow down. She doesn't need to be thinking about it. She needed to have it. But... she can't cheat on her boyfriend.

 Even though her boyfriend couldn’t satisfy her. Even though he couldn’t even make her moan like that, she didn't want to cheat.

 She rolled onto her side, but her body couldn't stop humming with a frustrated need. She closed her eyes, and her mind went wild in reckless thought. She was still thinking about him. She slept—still wet and still burning in naughty fantasies.

.

.

.

 The next day, she decided to confront him. If she lets it slide, he will keep tormenting her without knowing. She rinsed her face, brushed her teeth, and retired back to her room.

 She walked to her closet, biting her lip as she rifled through hangers. She told herself this wasn’t about him. She just needed to talk to her new neighbor. Set some boundaries. That was all.

 But the outfit she finally settled on told a different story. The white tank top clung like a second skin, thin enough that her nipples peaked hard against the fabric. No bra. She told herself it was because of the heat, but deep down, she knew better. It was paired with denim shorts that barely skimmed mid-thigh. The look screamed casual but somehow dangerous.

 When she caught her reflection in the mirror, she hesitated. You are just going to talk, she reminded herself. Just tell him to keep it down next time.

 She grabbed her phone, slipped on a pair of sandals, and made her way to his house. As she got close to his door, her heart began to beat like a drum. She took a deep breath and knocked.

 The door swung open on the second knock, and Madeline forgot how to breathe. She wasn't ready to see him the way he appeared. He was fucking shirtless.

 That he was shirtless wasn't only the problem, but also his skin. His skin was slick with a faint sheen of sweat, like he just finished a workout. His muscles looked enhanced. His chest was dusted with just enough dark hair to make her pulse skip. And lower...his abs were a roadmap of ridges leading to the waistband of a pair of low-slung athletic shorts.

 She could tell he wasn't wearing any underwear, because the fabric did nothing to hide the heavy outline straining against it. 

 “Hey,” he said as his eyes flicked over the stiff peaks pressing against her tank top. He smiled. “Morning, neighbor.”

 “M-morning,” she stammered, cursing the way her voice shook.

 “How are you doing?” he asked as he braced his right hand on the doorframe like he had all the time in the world to attend to her.

 “I—uh...I’m fine.” She replied, trying as much as possible to get hold of herself.

 “What can I do for you??”

 “Nothing.” Her spine stiffened, clinging to her last scrap of dignity. “I needed to talk to you.”

 “Sure, alright.” He stepped back, sweeping an arm toward the living room. “Come in first.”

 The cool blast of air conditioning hit her as she stepped inside. The house smelled nice and comforting. He closed the door and walked up to the living room. "You can have a seat." He said, and she sat on the couch close to him.

 He dropped onto the opposite couch and looked up at her. “So,” he drawled, resting an arm along the back of the couch, “what is that?”

 “I couldn’t sleep last night,” she bluntly said, forcing the words past the lump in her throat.

 He raised his eyebrows. He was thinking... How does it concern him that she couldn't sleep? “You had a terrible nightmare?” He asked.

 “No.” She replied. “I couldn't sleep because of you."