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The boy next door

Date: 4/13/2016, Categories: Seduction, Author: BabyBlonde123, Rating: 32, Source: LushStories

"Son of a bitch." The words slip from my lips as the door shuts behind me, and bumps against my ass. I clutch the white towel tightly around my body and turn around to bang against the door with my fist. "Open the door, Leah!" I yell, praying that she'll unlock the door and let me back into my apartment. "Hmm, let me think about that... nope!" Her voice carries through the door, and I stomp my foot in a childish manner. "Damn it, Leah. It's my apartment!" I pout and continue to pound my fist against the door. I quickly glance up and down the hallway, as I continue to drip water onto the hardwood floor of the hall. Just as I go to open my mouth to yell at Leah again, I hear a snicker behind me. I whip around, my wet hair sticking to my face as I do. His tall frame takes up most of the doorway, and I have to crane my neck to see his face. He's leaning against the door, in only his boxers, and looking me up and down in only my soaked white bath towel. He wears a sly grin, and I feel my face flush pink. Of course , it would have to be him to find me outside of my apartment, in nothing but a towel, embarrassing myself at 5:00 in the morning. I've seen him around the building on a couple occasions, and he's been the subject of my wet dreams ever since he moved in across the hall. Our mutual flirting whenever we see each other around doesn't help, of course. He's just so... dreamy . Dreamy, as in, every time I see him I want him to push me against the wall and fuck me until I ... can't see straight. I muster up every ounce of dignity I have, lift my chin, and stare him straight in the eye. "What the fuck are you looking at?" He quirks a dark eyebrow at me, the smile on his face becoming more amused. "Don't mind me, continue on with... whatever you were doing," he says, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine, as he waves his hand absentmindedly towards my door. His large, rough, strong hand... No, I think to myself, focus. "Oh, I will, thanks," I say, sarcastically. "If you don't mind me asking... what exactly are you doing?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow. "What the fuck does it look like?" I seethe at him. "I'm locked out." I sigh, pounding my fist against the door once more. He glances down at the puddle surrounding my feet. I pound my hand against the door three times, and I feel my feet slide, no doubt due to the water now coating the floor. I grip the handle, steadying myself before I fall. "Careful," he says, "it's a little slippery down there." He shows me his fucking dimples and I vaguely wonder if I'll die of embarrassment soon. I try not to think about whether or not his words were meant to hold a double meaning. Get a hold of yourself, you don't act this way around men , men act this way around you; I mentally chide myself. He has this effect on my body that I can't explain. He leaves me stumbling on my thoughts like a sixteen year old girl, not a twenty three year old woman. As I open my mouth to comment back to him, my feet slide and I'm ...