Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 102942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
A grin stretches across my lips. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were flirting with me.”
She scoffs. “I wouldn’t flirt with you if you were the last man on earth,” she tells me. “Besides, I’m not interested in men who take almost four hours to tire out their girl. Maybe that’s something you should talk with your new psychologist about.”
“She ain’t my girl, and we both know exactly what you heard last night. It’s all you’ve been able to think about. I could get you there in seconds,” I tell her, bracing my arm against her doorframe and leaning into her, lowering my tone. “When I eat, I take my time. It’s not a fucking race, Firecracker. It’s about just how long I can get your legs to shake after I’m through with you. But I suppose you wouldn’t have the stamina to find out. After all, you’re the type who’s getting friction burn after fifteen minutes, right? Shame. I thought you would be fun. Turns out, fucking you would be like fucking sandpaper.”
“It’s truly remarkable that you were your father’s fastest swimmer,” she murmurs as she steps into me again, raising her chin just to be able to meet my eyes. “In case you can’t figure it out. I’m calling you slow, so let me really spell it out for you, because I know how intelligence is something you’re still struggling to grasp hold of. You couldn’t even begin to have what it takes to get me across the line.”
“Ahh, shit. You should have told me you were a prude, incapable of orgasm. Makes sense now. I bet you’re itching for it, huh? Always getting close but never able to really get yourself there. Shit, those vibrators under your bed are probably screaming for retirement,” I laugh as a cocky grin pulls at my lips. “I could do it for you. Show you what it’s really like to be fucked within an inch of your life.”
Her gaze narrows to slits, her hands balling into tight fists. “I would rather fuck myself with a rusty chainsaw than let you and your oversized tree trunk anywhere near me.”
A smirk pulls at my lips, knowing this girl is going to be an absolute nightmare, especially if I don’t start waving a white flag, but that’s not about to happen. Apart from work, I’ve got nothing else going on. There’s nothing but time for me to waste, and I intend on wasting every second of it fucking with my new neighbor. Ruining her perfect little day is going to be my new brand of heroin. Day after day. Hour after hour. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to see that feisty little vixen who came pounding on my door with fury in her eyes and rage in her chest.
Damn. Just the thought of getting under her skin like that is giving me life.
“Uh-huh. Is that why your hands are itching to grab hold of me right now?” I ask, with a cocky wink I know is bound to piss her off. “Enjoy your aerobics, Firecracker. I’ll be seeing ya.”
“Unlikely,” she says, grabbing the door and slamming it closed right in front of my face, making sure the hardwood smacks directly against my nose.
“MOTHERFUCKER!” I grunt as pain explodes through my face.
I grip my nose, making sure it’s not broken, and after confirming it’s still intact, I head straight back to my apartment, knowing that it’s bound to bruise. It seems my little firecracker doesn’t just have a smart mouth and a chip on her shoulder; she also likes it rough.
Slamming the door behind me, I let out a sigh and crash onto my couch just as the sound of “Gimme More” by the Queen of Pop comes to an end. Before I can sigh in relief, “Gangnam Style” blasts through the thin walls, and she cranks it even louder.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
With my head pounding from the music, I quickly realize that the only way to survive this little firecracker and escape with my sanity is to not be here when she’s trying to make a stand. With that snippet of knowledge, I head into my bedroom and start rifling through the overflowing boxes of clothes.
Finding a pair of loose basketball shorts and my runners, I pull them on, and within seconds, I’m heading straight back out the door for an early morning run.
I push myself to my limit, only returning to my apartment complex an hour later once every ounce of furious energy has worked its way out of my body. I don’t do well when I don’t get at least four or five hours of sleep. But it’s not as though I didn’t ask for this. I should have done my research before picking a fight with someone just as stubborn as I am, but that doesn’t mean I regret it. It just means I’m going to have to up my game.