The Night the Neighbour Across the Hall Stopped Knocking and Simply Walked In and Took Her While the Baby Slept and Her Husband Was Out of Town

It was past midnight when the soft knock came.

I already knew who it was. I had been waiting for it since the moment my husband’s flight took off that morning. The baby was finally asleep in the next room. The apartment was quiet except for the low hum of the air-conditioner.

I opened the door without checking the peephole. Reyan stood there in a black t-shirt and joggers, hair still damp from a shower. He didn’t smile. He didn’t say hello. He simply stepped inside, closed the door behind him, and locked it.

For a second we just looked at each other. Then his hand was in my hair and his mouth was on mine.

There was no softness left in the kiss. It was hungry, almost angry, like he had been holding himself back for weeks. I kissed him back the same way. My fingers dug into his shoulders as he walked me backward until my spine hit the wall.

He pulled my nightdress up in one rough motion and groaned when he found I wasn’t wearing anything underneath. His hand slid between my legs and he cursed under his breath.

“Already wet,” he muttered against my mouth. “You’ve been thinking about this.”

I didn’t answer. I just spread my legs a little wider. He pushed two fingers inside me without warning. My head fell back against the wall and a soft sound escaped my throat. He immediately covered my mouth with his other hand.

“Quiet,” he whispered. “The baby.”

I nodded, eyes locked on his. He fucked me with his fingers slowly at first, then harder, curling them until my knees started to shake. When I came, I bit down on his palm to keep from crying out. He didn’t stop until I was trembling and trying to push his hand away.

Only then did he pull his fingers out and put them in his mouth, tasting me while he watched my face.

He didn’t take me to the bedroom. He turned me around, pressed my chest against the wall, and pulled my hips back. I heard the sound of his joggers being shoved down. The next second the thick head of his cock was pushing against me.

He entered in one long, deep thrust.

My mouth opened in a silent scream. He was bigger than my husband, thicker, and he didn’t give me time to adjust. He started fucking me in steady, powerful strokes, one hand on my hip, the other still covering my mouth. Every time he bottomed out I felt it in my stomach.

The only sounds were the wet slap of skin and our uneven breathing. I reached back and dug my nails into his thigh. He growled softly and fucked me harder.

When I came the second time my legs almost gave out. He held me up and kept going, chasing his own release. He buried himself as deep as he could and came with a low, broken groan against my neck, filling me in thick pulses.

We stayed like that for a long moment, his cock still twitching inside me, my forehead pressed to the wall.

Finally he pulled out. I felt his cum start to slip down my thigh. He turned me around, looked at the mess he had made, and something dark flashed in his eyes.

“Bedroom,” he said quietly. “Now.”

I led him there on unsteady legs. The moment the door closed he pushed me onto the bed and climbed over me. This time he took my nightdress off completely. His mouth closed over one breast, sucking hard, while his hand pushed my thighs apart again.

He was still half-hard. It didn’t take long before he was fully hard again. He hooked my knees over his elbows and sank back into me with a single thrust. I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood.

This round was slower but deeper. He watched my face the entire time, one hand wrapped loosely around my throat. Not squeezing—just holding. Claiming.

“You’re going to let me come back tomorrow,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

I nodded.

“And the day after.”

I nodded again.

He smiled, but it wasn’t a kind smile. He started fucking me harder, the bedframe tapping lightly against the wall. I reached up and pulled him down so I could bury my face in his neck as I came for the third time. He followed a few strokes later, grinding deep and emptying himself inside me again.

Afterward he stayed on top of me, still buried to the hilt, catching his breath.

“I meant it,” he murmured against my ear. “I’m not knocking next time. I’m just coming in.”

I closed my eyes and felt another slow pulse of his cock inside me.

“Okay,” I whispered.

He finally pulled out and rolled onto his back. I could feel everything leaking out of me onto the sheets. Neither of us moved to clean up.

For a long time the only sound was the air-conditioner and our slowing heartbeats.

Eventually he stood up and pulled his joggers back on. He looked down at me—naked, marked, full of him—and exhaled.

“Leave the door unlocked tomorrow night.”

I nodded once.

He left without another word. I listened to the front door open and close. Then I just lay there in the dark, legs still open, feeling him drip out of me, already knowing I would leave the door unlocked.

My husband would be gone for six more days.

And the neighbour no longer needed to knock.