Page 25

Night after night, I found myself getting straight into bed and making myself come while the mental image of it was still fresh. While he was still next door doing it.

Then, without fail, every night, I found myself justifying it all after the fact.

It’s just because it’s been so long since you’ve been sucked off.

It’s just because you’ve been watching the same porn lately and it’s gotten boring.

It’s just because Ewen looks like he’s really, really good at sucking dick.

It’s just because it’s so shocking.

I cycled through all the excuses each night as I got up, wiped off and padded downstairs on shaky legs to get a drink, then took a deep breath before stepping out onto the back deck.

Because that was the other part of my new, perverted routine.

Sitting outside with Ewen after.

After spying on him through the window.

After stroking myself off, after seeing him on his couch sucking his own cock.

There’s something seriously wrong with you, I thought as I filled a glass with water and took a sip, my belly already jumping with that stupid anticipation again as I eyed the back door.

Was he already out there? He usually was by the time I got outside.

Probably because he was so fucking good at sucking dick that he finished way before me.

I had to stop doing this. All of it. Every part of it was wrong. The spying. The jerking off. The clandestine-esque meetings on our back decks in the dark after we were both done, when he had no idea that I’d just seen him. Watched him. Used him as jerk-off fodder.

It wasn’t the fact that I was masturbating over a guy—no, that wasn’t what was making me feel weird. It was the fact that it was him. Dan fucking Ewen. The asshole neighbour. The thorn in my side for the last three years.

The guy who still hadn’t fixed my fucking fence.

I didn’t like him. If I was going to have a sexual awakening in my late twenties, I didn’t want it to be because of him, for fuck’s sake. He was an asshole. A cocky, inconsiderate and frankly weird asshole. I mean, honestly, who sucked their own dick every night without closing their blinds? Didn’t he care that I could potentially see him?

He was the weird one here, I resolutely decided as I reached for the door handle. Not me. He was the one slobbing his own knob in front of a window. I wasn’t doing anything weird—I was just going about my usual nightly routine, trying to enjoy the view from my window and instead being walloped in the face with the visual of a slutty cowboy wrestler going to town on himself.

The jerking off after the fact was totally unrelated.

I sighed in defeat as I stepped out into the cool night. I was self-aware enough to know what I was doing, and that I had convinced myself of all the same things the night before. And the night before that.

Didn’t stop me from continuing this new and fucked-up cycle, though.

“Howdy, neighbour.”

His voice sent a shiver up my spine, not an unpleasant one, and I wasn’t sure at what point over the last few days it had begun to elicit that reaction from me.

I hated it. Asshole, making me feel shivers. What was his fucking problem?

My cock was still tingling, and it twitched in my sweats, so like clockwork, I got tense and edgy, almost wanting to blame him for it. Even though no one had forced me to come out here. No one was forcing me onto my back deck each night. No one was forcing me to speak to him. No one was forcing me to do any of it.

But I couldn’t stop myself. And it pissed me off.

“You still haven’t fixed my fence,” I rasped, as if that was the only reason I’d come out here, clutching my glass tight and standing awkwardly by my open door.

Ewen was sprawled in his usual deck chair, wearing only sweats and holding a steaming mug of something. He chuckled and sipped from it as he glanced over, and my porch light reflected in his eyes. “And deprive you of this view?”

I automatically scowled in derision and stomped over to my seat, though my belly dipped at the feel of his eyes on me. “You said you’d do it.”