Sierra Lancaster has had an agonizingly mediocre life. She grew up in a happy home, made loyal friends, graduated college, and is now pursuing her dream of running her own bakery. Boring, right? A story like this wouldn't be one for the books. At le...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Uhhhhhhhh."
The sound briefly registers in my brain but I'm still sleeping so I brush it off.
"Ohhhhhhhh."
Hmm. Okay. That one was definitely harder to ignore. I'm half-awake now and roll over, annoyed that I'm partially aware of my surroundings and not submersed in peace and quiet.
"Ohhhh. Ohhhh! Yessss!"
Damn it! Now I'm totally awake and I sit up, disgruntled and blinking apart my heavy eyelids. I rub the sleep out of them and look around for the source of the noise. There's something else, a light thumping that I didn't make out earlier. But it's definitely there, rhythmic and constant. I listen more closely.
"Ohhhhhhh, God!"
Wowza. I wince and cover my ears because holy hell, that's loud. Loud and high-pitched enough to shatter glass. I wouldn't be surprised if my floor-to-ceiling windows spontaneously broke but I would be super pissed. This apartment is not cheap to rent and my business isn't doing so hot which means I'm broke as hell and don't appreciate the danger my windows are in.
"Uhhhhhhh!"
Jesus Christ. What kind of moans are those? Hell, my dead tabby would make those exact sounds when he was about to hack up a fur-ball. I snort with almost-laughter at the thought of Sir Whiskers being reincarnated in the form of moaning woman. He always was a naughty dude. Had major sex appeal too. He once impregnated three cats on one of his walks in the neighbourhood, the little slut.
"YES!"
That's it. I throw off my blanket with a slew of curses that rival a sailor's vocabulary and stomp into my living room. I still haven't figured out where the porn-star screams are coming from but I seem to be getting closer. My ears perk up at the sound of a deep grunt, the first I've heard. And I guess I should be just as annoyed at the dude clearly getting some but...woah. That's some phenomenal grunting. Shoots straight to my hoo-ha, especially when an even deeper groan follows.
What is it about a man groaning in bed? It's like you can feel the rumble of their vocal chords right in your belly and practically conjuring a fetus straight in there. If that was possible, I'd say I've got a set of twins jamming in my womb at the sound of a marvelous fuuuuck.
I inch closer to my front door and sure enough, the moans and groans get louder. So I open the door and then there's no concealing the fact that my neighbours are getting some. And by neighbours, I mean Holden.
Of course. Of course.
Why am I not surprised? I outwardly dry-heave at my consideration of being impregnated by Satan. Imagine! Spawning a junior devil. He'd probably come out with little horns and sharp teeth. I shudder at the image and continue my not-throwing-up. I think I've had enough for one night.
