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“So close your damn window,” I seethed. “I don’t want to hear it. Or see it.”
His smirk returned as he glanced over. “See what, exactly?”
My face was on fire, and my head was pounding with more than just rage. I didn’t want to think about what that meant, so I stood abruptly and strode for the door. “Get off my damn deck, Ewen.”
He just laughed, infuriating me further, and I slammed the back door behind me. My nostrils flared with outrage when I heard him call out, “Try and keep it down, neighbour.”
Dick. Asshole. He was so goddamn annoying.
Breathing hard, I looked down and felt all the blood drain from my face when I saw the obvious erection tenting the front of my pyjama pants.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Why was I hard?
It’s adrenaline, I thought as I slammed down my half-full beer bottle and flicked off the kitchen light before stomping upstairs. He got you riled up, got your blood flowing. From anger. Nothing else. It’s an angry boner. And earlier was just jealousy masturbation. Angry jealousy masturbation.
A full-body cringe wracked me as I realised Ewen would’ve seen my hard dick. He would’ve thought he’d caused it. Which he kind of had, but only because he made me so mad.
Fuck. Fuck. I’d popped a boner in front of Ewen. I’d never live this down. He wouldn’t let me.
Was there a way to casually bring up adrenaline-fuelled erections in our next conversation? Make it clear that sometimes, intense emotions—like sheer rage and nothing else—could cause a boner? But that would require talking to him again. Which I didn’t want to do. I didn’t want to talk to him. Or interact with him in any way.
But now I was kind of panicking. Maybe I could write a fake ad about a new study on adrenaline boners and put it in the local paper so he’d see it. Except he didn’t get the paper delivered.
Did he read the news online? Maybe I could find out what site he used by hacking into his—
Stop, I told myself as I irritably put a fresh bottom sheet on my mattress. Stop fucking thinking about him. Stop caring so much. He fucks dudes all the time—he’s seen boners before.
But not mine. And I didn’t want to fuck him. Definitely not.
I still didn’t like him. Just because he’d kind of apologised for being a jerk neighbour, and told me stuff about himself, and given me a beer, and inadvertently played a part in making me come harder than I had in months…
Wait, what was my point again?
Chapter Six
Professional Dick Biting
Dan
My neighbour was about as threatening as a disgruntled kitten.
Honestly, it was damn cute the way he scowled and huffed and his nose scrunched up when he was pissed off, nostrils flaring.
The first time I’d seen him—three years ago now, when I’d just moved in next door—I’d known instantly that he was a ghoul, even though he’d been in his human form when I’d spotted him climbing into his car.
He was cute. On the shorter side, with a wiry build. Big, pale green eyes with long dark lashes. Lots of piercings on his narrow face—a ring in each nostril, a barbell in his right eyebrow, and a stud nestled above his cupid’s bow. His long hair had been pale purple then. He dyed it different colours a lot. Right now it was fading from its recent blue, the ends turning a washed-out green and the roots his natural dark greyish black.
I’d been instantly intrigued. Living next door to another non-human was always a bonus—you didn’t have to worry so much about what they might see through the side windows—but I hadn’t anticipated my new neighbour being such a snack. A snack I very much wanted to sample.
Problem was, Rafe Hare despised me. And was seemingly straight.
Although…
He’d definitely seen me giving myself some neck the other night. Playing my own skin flute. Slobbing on my own knob. Polishing my dome. You get the idea.
