Day five, I’d managed to sneak a picture of him on one of his favorite early morning runs, which I’ve come to realize is his way to escape my tactics. I posted the picture across every social media page I could with the caption, “Are we dating the same guy?”and I happily watched out the window as he walked his latest date back to our apartment complex, only for her to see the post, slap him across the face, and storm off while muttering something to herself. He’d looked up at me from the street, flipped me the bird, and then spent his night learning the art of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu in his living room.
I took it upon myself to start learning the drums, and by day six, my eyeballs were falling out of my head. I’ve become nocturnal, and it’s really screwing with my overall vibe. I don’t fuck with change. I like things the way they are, and Raiden Kane is screwing everything up.
Luckily, a new contract presented itself to me yesterday morning. In a matter of hours, I was at the airstrip, taking the jet to Arizona. The target is a Fortune 500 CEO, but what should have been a quick kill has turned into almost twenty-four hours of recon. Apparently, someone tipped him off about the hit because he’s gone to ground, but I’m no quitter. Despite my recent experiences with my new neighbor, when it comes to my work, I generally have the patience of a saint.
I wait him out for the perfect moment to strike, and then earn another million-dollar check. I have just enough time to snap a few selfies at the Grand Canyon National Park for my blog before taking my ass home.
I’m utterly exhausted, but the welcome-home party next door seems perfectly timed. As soon as my head hits the pillow, Raiden Kane picks right up where we left off, fucking his way through LA.
I’ve got to give it to him. He’s found himself a real keeper with this new girl. She’s loud. And I don’t just mean with her groans and grunts. She’s a screamer. Like high-pitched, animalistic screeching. I know he set out with the intention to drive me as crazy as possible, but I don’t know how he even stands it.
“That’s it, baby,” Raiden’s deep tone booms through the wall. “Scream for me. Louder.”
Fuck me.
The woman responds with delight as though no man on the planet has ever asked for more. “OH GOD, YES!” She goes absolutely feral, the sound piercing through my eardrums as I squish the pillow over my head so hard I almost suffocate myself.
This can’t be happening.
He rails her on the bed, the squeaky mattress slamming against the headboard over and over, making the cornices on my bedroom ceiling begin to crumble. White plaster falls over me like snow, and I can’t help but send a prayer up for the poor girl’s vagina. How hard is he fucking her to make my walls physically begin to crumble? Surely that goes pastthe point of pleasure and firmly into the realm of pain. Shit, I know I wouldn’t be able to walk for a week after that.
“MORE! MORE! HARDER!”
“Noooo,” I fake sob to myself. “Please, no more.”
It goes on and on, hour after hour.
“YES, XADEN!”
I laugh. “IT’S RAIDEN, YOU DAFT BIMBO!”
The girl gasps, and the room suddenly goes quiet. “Who the fuck was that?”
Raiden laughs. “Just my nosy neighbor,” he says, banging on the wall as if to prove some kind of point. “She has some weird kinks and likes to listen through the walls. She’s a little freak like that, but it’s sad. She isn’t capable of coming. She has a rare disease. They call it Hostile Terrain Syndrome. It’s where the inside of her vag is like experiencing an epic sandstorm. Really dry and rough. Friction burn and blisters rule her life, so she can’t have sex. But I make sure she can live vicariously through me, you know, let her really experience a taste of the good life where I can.”
“Oh, my god,” the girl swoons. “That’s so sad. The poor girl. I couldn’t imagine how that must feel. But you really are the perfect guy. That’s so considerate of you. She’s so lucky to have somebody like you in her corner.”
He chuffs. “I do what I can, so make sure you really include her in the experience. Let her know just how good it is. Maybe talk her through it a bit. Who knows, you might even help her finally achieveher first big O, assuming she can get wet with all that inner chaffing going on.”
“Oh, yeah. Of course.”
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. My hand twitches for the gun in my bedside drawer. It would be so easy. I wouldn’t even need to get off my bed. I could aim through the paper-thin walls and say goodbye to all my problems with a simple twitch of my pointer finger. I’m just that good. But, apparently, I have some kind of moral compass. I don’t kill innocents, no matter how frustrating they might be.
They get right back to work, the walls immediately beginning to shake once again, covering me in snowy-like plaster. Hell, all it would take is one solid thrust, and the asshole’s whole damn bed would be in my bedroom with me.
“Oh Godddddd,” she groans as I hear a hand, probably hers, smack against the wall. “Fuck, that’s good. Right there. Shit!”
I roll my eyes and start to mimic their performance with a pathetically miserable tone. “Oh God, Xaden. Yes, yes, yes! Take me deeper.”
“Hey,” the girl chimes. “It’s working. She’s actually getting into it.”
“Fuck, yeah, she is. Keep it going.”
“What’s her name?”
“Kiara St. James,” he tells her. “I’ve worked out that she only likes it when you use her full name. Really helps her, you know?”
“Oh, okay. That’s weird, but I can work with that,” she says with a gasp, still getting railed within an inch of her life.
