by Maddie King
BAD BOY NEIGHBOR
Maddie King
Contents
Untitled
About The Book
1. Brooke
2. Xander
3. Brooke
4. Xander
5. Brooke
6. Xander
7. Brooke
8. Xander
9. Brooke
10. Brooke
Epilogue
About Maddie
Copyright © 2017 MK Books
All rights reserved. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any form without prior written permission of the publisher, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
Thank you for respecting the work of this author.
Cover Art and Design by Cover Lust Designs
Trademarks: This book identifies product names and services known to be trademarks, registered trademarks, or service marks of their respective holders. The author acknowledges the trademarked status in this work of fiction. The publication and use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
About The Book
My neighbor is an arrogant prick.
I’ve lived across the street from him for three years and I’m fed up with his constant partying. He’s the neighborhood bad boy and everyone is afraid to confront him - everyone but me.
When I go to put my foot down one night, I’m in for much more than I thought.
He’s going to show me who the boss of the neighborhood is and he doesn’t care if I like it or not.
Remember: Don’t take it too seriously. It’s just quick smut to get you warmed up. ;)
1
Brooke
My neighbor is an arrogant, self-righteous prick.
The whole neighborhood is afraid of him, but not me. I never have been. He thinks he’s the coolest guy on the block but he’s wrong. He’s so full of himself that it makes me sick.
I grab my pillow and bring it over my face, hoping to stifle the noise, but it doesn’t work. I can still hear the loud music—the booming and thundering of the bass and lyrics by Ludacris.
I love Ludacris, but not when his music is being played at this hour.
Not fucking now.
I grit my teeth together, tossing the pillow aside and sitting up.
“That’s it!” I snap. I shove out of bed and slide into my slippers. I don’t give a damn if I’m only wearing my silk gown. He’s going to know how serious I am if I show up like this.
I rush down the hallway and yank the front door open, zooming across the street, in between the many cars parked at the curb of his two-story home. There are college students outside, smoking and drinking. Some see me and they snicker at my attire.
“What the hell are you looking at?” I snap at one of the girls who’s giving me a nasty look. She jerks her gaze away, but not without an eye roll.
I stomp up the stoop and bang my fist on the door. The booming of the music drowns it out but I continue banging until the song ends. The banging is louder when the song cuts off and I finally hear footsteps coming from the other side.
“Who the fuck is banging on my goddamn door like that!” a deep voice shouts. I know that voice. I’d know it from anywhere honestly.
It’s him. Xander fucking Wilson. The bad boy across the street. The asshole that can never give his neighbors a quiet night or cut any of us a fucking break.
He stayed in this house when his grandmother passed away. His mom has been in jail since he was eight years old for dealing drugs and prostitution and during my six years staying here, I’ve never heard of or seen his father.
I knew about his mom from Mrs. Henley, the elderly woman next door who always bakes Shelby and me apple pies during the holidays. His grandma was a sweet woman. I wish some of that sweetness had passed down to him.
The door swings open and a tall, strong body appears.
He’s a large man, tall and muscular, but he doesn’t intimidate me. He may scare the neighborhood with his hard gray eyes and messy hair, but he can’t scare me. He wears black jeans and a black T-shirt, a sleeve of tattoos on each arm. There is one tattoo on his neck. His grandma’s name, Tina.
He grips the door handle with inked knuckles, glaring down at me. His firm, square jaw pulses as he looks me over. “Jesus. Again! What the fuck do you want now?” he grouses.
“I want you to turn your music down, Xander!”
He smirks at that. “You’re here to do this shit again? I’ve told you a thousand times I’m not turning my music down for you. It’s a fucking party. The music is supposed to be loud. Get the hell over it, Firecracker.”
“Don’t call me that.” I cross my arms tightly when I feel him staring at my breasts. “You need to get these people out of here and cut that music off. It’s three in the morning and I have to be up in three hours for work and then a yoga class.”
He looks from me to the college kids standing in the yard. They’re laughing over stupid online videos. He picks up a hand and whistles his fingers at them. When they see him, they pick up their heads and come his way.
“Get in the house and finish up your partying,” he tells them. “But don’t be gentle. Get fucking wild. Get your money’s worth.”
“Sure thing, X,” one girl with blond hair says with a grin.
I scoff and roll my eyes when they troop inside, yelling and laughing even louder. He shuts the door behind them and the music from the party becomes muffled, but it is still loud. When he steps towards me, his firm chest poking out, he laughs a deep, throaty laugh.
“There. You got one thing you wanted. They aren’t out here anymore. They’re all in the house. Now how about you get off my porch, go home, and get those three hours of sleep you claim you need, Firecracker.” He picks a hand up to touch my red hair. I assume it’s the reason he even calls me that. I loath the name. I’ve hated it for years now.
I pull away from him. “I’m not leaving until you at least turn the music down.”
“Oh, I’m not turning it down,” he laughs, flashing an annoyingly sexy smile.
“Well then I’m not leaving.”
He shrugs. “That’s cool with me. Stay. Maybe you’ll enjoy yourself and loosen that tight ass of yours a little bit.”
“Oh, fuck you,” I snap back. “The whole neighborhood hates you, Xander! They want you gone. We know calling the cops doesn’t work because your uncle is the Sherriff but something’s gonna come and bite you in the ass one day and none of these good people that live here are going to help you.”
“You think I need help, baby girl? I don’t need help from anyone but myself.” He drops his hand down on my shoulder and reels me in. His nostrils flare up when he inhales. “You always smell good. Like honey. I’m starting to wonder how you taste, smelling this good all the damn time.”
“Fuck off.” I pull away from him and start to protest again—ignoring the burning desire in my belly—but he catches me by the waist. When he picks me up, I yelp. He runs a hand over my ass before dropping me down on top of the wide porch rail.
“You don’t have any fucking panties on,” he groans when his hand slips between my thighs. “Is this why you’ve come over here? To show off that sexy ass and let me play with your wet pussy?”
I breathe harder. “You know why I’m here. Turn the music down. Some people actually work for a living. We don�
��t scam college students into paying to attend lame-ass house parties.”
“My lame-ass house parties make me a shit load of money.” He grips my upper thighs and hauls them apart. I gasp when he plants his large hand on my hip to hold me in place and then lowers his face between my legs.
“What the hell are you doing?” I try to ask with anger in my voice but I can’t. I’m winded all of a sudden. His hand is still firm on my hip while his other shoves my silky pink gown up. The material bundles around my waist and the wind bites at my ass.
“I’m about to eat some pussy,” he growls, nipping at my thighs. My ass hangs over the rails, my legs still apart. I try to bring them together again but he’s too strong, a hand between my legs to keep them wrenched apart. “You’ll sleep real good when I’m finished with you. I bet the music won’t even bother you when your head hits the pillows.”
After he says that, I feel something hot cover my clit. His tongue. He slides it through my hot slit, up and down, and then drives it inside me.
“Damn, you’re fucking sweet, firecracker.” He holds my waist and I gasp, watching as he dives in deeper and eats my pussy. He growls between my legs, sucking and licking, acting like he fucking owns me or something.
His sucks on my clit and then circles his tongue around it and I moan way too loudly, half pushing, have pulling at him. I don’t know what I want more—for him to stop or for him to keep going.
He always does this—finds a way to make me stop talking. One time he bent me over in his backyard and fingered me from behind. Another time he dry humped me on the grass beside his house until I was so wet and ended up begging him to fuck me. Of course he didn’t. He told me to leave, which pissed me off even more because I was riled up and horny and ready. And now he’s eating me. And I want him to stop…but he can’t. Not yet.
I can’t stand him. He thinks he runs everything. He thinks he owns this neighborhood but he doesn’t. I’ve had to bicker with him every week for the past six years because of the noise he creates. All I want is peace, but I think what I want more is for him to finish me off right now.
It’s been so long since the last time I’ve had real sex. Months.
His tongue is both rough and gentle. He eats me with feral growls, still holding my waist tight so I don’t fall backwards. He’s burying his tongue deeper and deeper and I squeeze a handful of his hair.
“Please—stop,” I beg, but I’m only fooling myself.
The door creaks open behind him and he pulls back to look. I start to yank away, totally embarrassed, but then he roars, “Go back in the fucking house!” to the college boy with the drink in his hand.
The boy’s eyes stretch wide but he makes no room for error. He hurries back inside, slamming the door, and Xander returns to me. His hard gray eyes move up to mine, hands still holding tight and tongue circling my throbbing, aching clit all over again.
“Your pussy tastes just like honey, firecracker. I’ve been wanting to eat you for a long fucking time,” he grumbles when he’s barely pulled up.
“You need to stop,” I tell him, breathless. “I hate doing this with you.”
“Fuck that. I’m not stopping until I feel your sweet juices all over my fucking mouth.” Hungrily, he keeps eating me out and I squirm, still wanting to put up a fight. My eyes squeeze tight and my moans grow just as loud as the music. I clutch his hair again with one hand and use the other to hold on to the rail, grinding slowly on his tongue, and then I finally cum.
I cum so hard that I rattle on the porch rail and squeeze my thighs tighter around his head. My moan is shrill, and fortunately is drowned out by the bass of his music.
“Shit, yeah,” he groans between my thighs, sucking up all of my nectar. “That’s what I fucking wanted right there. So fucking wet.”
And just like a firecracker, I continue exploding, gasping, panting, and sighing. My moans are thick as he finishes me off with slow, torturous swirls of his tongue.
And then he jerks away, the lower half of his face wet, soaked with my juices.
He flashes a cocky smile, standing up tall. I hop down in a hurry, yanking my gown down and stepping away.
Why did I just let him do that? I was supposed to come over here and put my foot down, not let him eat me out like that. God, I am so weak.
“You satisfied now?” he asks, cocking a brow.
I frown up at him, but I’m not even sure what to say. I can’t lie and say I’ve never wanted it.
Jackass.
“Go on.” He swipes his forearm over his lips, removing the wetness from his mouth. “Before I decide to put my cock in you right now too. I know that’s what you really want.”
I scowl up at him. He’s nearly eight inches taller than me and I hate that I have to look up so high just to see his eyes. I twist around, stumbling over my own two feet as I dash across the street and into my house.
“Did you tell him to turn the music down?” My roommate, Shelby, pops up around the corner with her eye mask pushed up, ruffling her brown hair.
“I did, but you know him. That fucker never listens.” I avoid her eyes, hoping she doesn’t sense my betrayal. We both agreed to hate that jackass across the street when he tossed her boyfriend off his porch and threatened him. Jake wanted to stand up to him. Because of it, her boyfriend, Jake, doesn’t like to come to our house much anymore to hang with her. He’s afraid of Xander.
Shelby would call me the biggest whore and lose all respect for me if she finds out what I let him do to me on occasion.
“Well,” she shrugs, “you tried. He just doesn’t care. If calling the cops didn’t work, I don’t know what will. Maybe I’ll have to move after all. I’ve been looking and it’s the only solution I can come up with anymore.”
She turns and enters her room again with a yawn. I walk to mine and start up the shower. And while I’m inside it, rinsing the thought of him away, all I can think are the words “over my dead body.”
He’s not about to force us out of this home. The rent is cheap and the area is convenient. My job is only ten minutes away. I’ll be damned if I move because I have an obnoxious, arrogant, filthy neighbor who can’t keep his damn hands to himself.
2
Xander
My balls are heavy as hell as I watch her run to her house. She’s got no idea how badly I want to fuck the shit out of her.
She comes over here trying to throw tantrums and trying to tell me what to do, but she knows I don’t listen. I won’t listen.
No one tells me what the fuck to do.
I know she only comes because she can’t get enough of me. She wants to pretend to hate me, but what she wants more is for me to play with her soft little pussy.
I don’t care. We can keep playing this game as long as she keeps coming back. But one day I’m going to fuck her good and raw and she really won’t stop running to me then.
This neighborhood has been mine since birth. I’ve lived here my whole life. Blacksburg, Virginia. Born and raised. My grandmother owned this house way before the rich motherfuckers moved here and bought out the other houses, renovating and turning this into some bullshit, upscale neighborhood. I’m not changing how we lived for them. They can kiss my ass for all I care.
I grip the doorknob and walk into the house, the music surrounding me. It’s loud as fuck, just the way I like it.
The college students are dancing, drinking, and laughing.
These damn kids know how to have a good time and they’ll pay good money for it too. Twenty-five bucks a person and it’s fucking final. A song by The Weeknd comes on and the dancing slows down. Girls start grinding on other girls, making out with each other, sloppy drunk.
Normally it would turn me on, but right now all I can think about is Brooke Reed.
Brooke fucking Reed. Her pussy tasted so sweet on my tongue. I know I’ll regret downing this whiskey to cover up the taste, but it’s needed in order to forget about it.
I can’t keep thinking about her too much.
She isn’t about to fuck with my head. I do what I want, when I want, and no matter how sexy she is, she isn’t going to mess that up.
I walk past the kids, towards the kitchen where Jerry, my cousin is. He’s the one who goes to college, gets the local kids in the know about the parties I throw here. He’s the school’s quarterback so he knows how to drag them in.
There is an unlimited supply of alcohol and the music doesn’t stop until four in the morning.
“One more hour and these kids are out of here,” I say when I step up to him.
“What? You’re kicking us out already?” Jerry laughs then takes a swig of his beer.
“I got my money from them. I’m fucking over it now.” I pour myself a shot and toss it back.
“Hey, who was that banging on the door like a fucking maniac?” he asks, bunching his eyebrows together.
“Redhead from across the street.”
“Again!” He laughs loudly. “Dude, she wants your cock so fucking bad. She comes over every single time just to annoy you. I say you pipe her down, teach her a fucking lesson already.”
Oh, trust me, I want to. I want to make that pussy mine in more ways than one. But I won’t admit it. Not to him.
I look over at Jerry. He’s four years younger than me. Twenty-three and doesn’t have any common sense whatsoever, but wants to major in engineering. I guess he is good at creating shit. He’s book smart, athletic, has girls all over him, but he’s far from street smart. His athleticism and good grades is what got him the full-ride scholarship to Virginia Tech.
I pour another shot and drink it, the warmth and sting coursing down my throat. “Hey,” he nudges me. “You want me to tell one of these drunk bitches to come suck you off? I bet that one would do it in front of everybody right now.” He points at a girl with blond hair that’s dancing on the middle of the dance floor alone, pushing her hands through her hair and sucking on her bottom lip.
