TieD Up For Christmas

Ava Sinclair had never heard anyone moan and scream like that before.

It was almost as if each girl her neighbor brought tried to outperform the other.

The sound drifted through the thin wall behind her headboard. It came low at first, then deepened into a breathless cry that sent a cool shiver down Ava's spine. The kind of sound that should've come with a viewer discretion warning.

Ava froze, her legs crossed on the bed, pen hovering above her open legal file, while the feminine voice on the other side of the wall moaned again.

Jesus. Her neighbor was really at it again. But why was it always around this time? It was getting to midnight for crying out loud.

The thing about her neighbor is that she'd never heard any noise coming from him; it was only from the women who flocked in and out of his room.

Wasn't he supposed to be in college? She couldn't imagine what young boys in college did these days if her neighbor had the stamina of a horse to keep satisfying these women.

Ava shut her eyes.

It wasn't jealousy...no, she was thirty-two, a respected lawyer, a grown woman with a corner office and a salary that could buy a car every other month if she actually liked driving.

No, she wasn't jealous.

She was just annoyed and...curious.

Curious in the way someone starving might look at a bakery window.

She swallowed, adjusted her reading glasses, and tried to focus on the draft brief on her laptop. But the moans didn't stop.

Her hand tightened around her pen as another sound drifted through the wall: a breathless whimper, feminine, needy, desperate. Ava clenched her pen.

Ava squeezed her thighs together beneath her blanket.

It was ridiculous. Embarrassing. She was a lawyer, a fully functional adult human being. She did not get flustered over noises coming through a wall.

Except she absolutely did. She had to confess, she'd touched herself a few times during her neighbor's wild adventures. But she couldn't do it tonight. There was work to be done, deadlines to be met.

Her neighbor, the elusive Noah, had never said more than "hi" to her. Actually, scratch that. He'd never said anything to her. She'd said "hi" a couple of times to him, but he never responded. And why should he?

He was probably in his early twenties.

But even without speaking, she seemed to know at least one thing about him: He was a sex god.

Ava bit her lip, heat creeping into her cheeks. She should not be thinking about her neighbor like that, for Christ's sake. He was way younger than her, and she was well into her thirties.

Noah, from what she'd learned from the sounds the women made, was a man apparently built for the express purpose of making women lose coherence.

And Ava, sworn enemy of chaos, was sitting alone in her bed, listening to him give some lucky woman the kind of pleasure Ava had only ever read about in erotica novels. Even her toys had never given her that kind of pleasure before.

Another moan hit the wall, louder, and Ava's breath hitched involuntarily.

Christ in heaven, he was... relentless.

She pressed a hand to her cheek. Her skin felt embarrassingly warm.

Her laptop screen dimmed from inactivity, the legal contract she'd been reviewing forgotten. No one could focus through this. Even a headphone wouldn't save her. Not when a deep, masculine voice vibrated behind the wall. Noah's voice.

Low. Rough. Commanding...she hadn't heard what he said because it was immediately followed by a loud spanking sound.

Ava's stomach dropped. That voice. She never heard him speak, but God help her, she heard how deep it sounded.

Her imagination betrayed her instantly.

She couldn't resist picturing him...big hands on someone's hips. His mouth pressed to someone's neck. His breath, hot and slow, right near someone's ear...

"Oh my God," she whispered to herself, horrified that her brain even went there.

Ava slapped a hand over her mouth to stop the embarrassing sound she nearly made.

(Oh God!!! Noah...yes!!! Take me!!!) The feminine voice screamed.

Ava slapped her laptop shut.

Right, enough. She needed... Shit, she didn't even know what she needed.

Luckily, right at that moment, when the moaning got even louder than possible, her phone buzzed. It was a text from one of her best friends.

[Jenna: Emergency wine night. I'm outside. No arguments.]

Ava snorted with relief.

At least, if she couldn't focus on work, drinking with Jenna would be a better option than being tortured by Noah and his harem of women.

Ava rushed out of bed, making her way to the living room. She grabbed her coat and stepped into the hallway.

Snow dusted the windows in the hallway, soft Christmas lights twinkling down the stairwell. Everything felt warm and festive. Christmas was only five days away, and New Year's was twelve days away.

Ava wasn't feeling particularly festive because she still had some work to do. But she was planning to place an order for a Christmas tree the next day.

The case she'd been assigned was vague and frustrating. Something about identity theft from over a decade ago. She pushed the thoughts away as she scrambled down the stairs to meet Jenna.

But she found Jenna already on her floor, standing with her coat open, a bottle of red in one hand and glitter on her eyelids for no reason except "December."

"Why do you look like you're witnessing a crime scene?" Jenna asked.

Ava opened her mouth to speak, but stopped halfway, giving Jenna a droopy smile instead. As they made to leave Ava's floor, a faint moan echoed through the hallway. It wasn't loud enough for everyone to hear but Jenna and Ava caught it.

Jenna's eyes went wide with amusement.

"Oh. He's at it again..." she wiggled her eyebrows at Ava.

Jenna, a regular visitor to Ava's home, was already aware of Noah and his capabilities.

"Please don't make this worse," Ava muttered, locking her door.

"Make what worse? That you live next to the human embodiment of a vibrator?"

"Jenna..." Ava sighed.

"Sorry. A deluxe vibrator."

Ava rolled her eyes so hard they nearly cracked. Jenna laughed, walking behind Ava as they made their way down the stairs and into Jenna's warm, cozy apartment, where Marisol, their other best friend, was already on the couch sipping hot chocolate.

"Why do you look like you're about to faint?" Marisol asked gently, her eyes trained on Ava.

Ava sank onto the couch. "I was trying to work, sort through some files, but my neighbor is at it again."

Both women leaned forward in synchronized interest. Jenna's eyes were dancing with glee while Marisol's eyes brimmed with concern.

Ava waved her hands at Jenna and Marisol. "Stop. Don't even look at me like that."

Jenna took a dramatic sip. "Girl, please. You are brilliant, gorgeous, successful-"

"And overworked," Marisol added.

"...and," Jenna continued louder, ignoring Marisol's adlib, "you have never..."

"Jenna," Ava warned.

"...been properly laid," Jenna finished.

Ava covered her face with both hands. "Can we please not make this the topic of tonight?"

"No," Jenna said brightly. "Because you've been tense for months. Years, probably. Girl, just one bad sex incident...it was your first time, for crying out loud. You shouldn't be so worried about having sex. It's almost Christmas, I refuse to let my best friend enter the new year with untouched potential."

Jenna was kind of right, Ava thought to herself. She wasn't technically a virgin, or was she? She didn't know. All she knew was, during her first time...the tip of her boyfriend's cock couldn't make it past the entrance of her vagina.

It was painful, and Ava had cried that night when her boyfriend refused to push himself through. He told her she was going to get hurt since she wasn't wet enough for him to slip through.

Ava had broken up with him a week later, thinking her boyfriend didn't care enough about her to give her her first sexual experience.

Years later, Ava learned she had a less severe case of vaginismus, but with consistent use of toys, she might be able to have the real thing inside of her, finally.

Marisol patted Ava's knee, jolting her back to the present. "What Jenna is trying to say..." Marisol gave Jenna a pointed look, "is that you deserve to feel good. It doesn't have to be romantic. It can just be for you, since you have a condition that's been hindering you all these years."

Ava hesitated, her eyes slightly tearing up at Marisol's words.

She'd been thinking about an idea. Quietly. Secretly. For weeks, the idea had been sitting in the back of her mind, taking root.

She wanted sex....she wanted to finally experience a man's cock inside of her body. No romance, no relationship.

Just the regular sexual experience.

She inhaled slowly.

"I've actually been thinking about it," she admitted quietly.

Jenna perked up so fast that Ava almost flinched. "Maybe...maybe I should just get it over with."

Jenna gasped like someone had proposed marriage.

Marisol blinked. "Well, that's wonderful. Do you mean soon?"

Ava nodded reluctantly.

Jenna clapped with excitement. "Yes! Yes! This is what Christmas miracles are made of!"

Ava groaned. "Please don't call it that."

"Who is it going to be with?" Marisol asked softly, being the ever-concerned friend of the group. "Someone from work?"

Ava shook her head, her eyes darting everywhere in Jenna's apartment. She did not want to reveal who she had in mind. But Jenna was quick to read her mind.

Jenna exhaled a sharp breath. "Ava. Tell me you are not thinking what I think you're thinking."

Ava sipped her wine, still avoiding Jenna's and Marisol's gaze.

She gave a lazy shrug. "He's... convenient."

"You mean Noah?" Jenna asked for clarification

"Oh my God, she means Noah?" Marisol asked, stunned and taken aback.

"This is incredible," Jenna giggled.

Ava winced. "Stop."

"No," Jenna refused. "We're encouraging. I think it's a very great idea. Don't you think so, Mari?"

Marisol tried to hide her shock, her gaze even more locked on Ava. "Honey...isn't he younger?"

"That's not important, Mari," Jenna reproached dryly. "The younger ones are even the most active. I mean, you've heard for yourself how very active he is."

Marisol shot Jenna a warning glare. "But we don't know how young he is. It's fine if he's five or six years younger but what if he's nineteen?" Marisol's face clouded with horror.

Jenna shook her head in disbelief, wondering how Marisol even had more sexual experience than Ava when Marisol was clearly the goody two-shoes among them.

Ava watched her two best friends staring at each other with frustration. She couldn't help but laugh at how seriously they were taking her idea. Ava felt like it wasn't that much of a deal.

"Ava, all that matters is what you want. Do you want him?" Jenna turned to her.

At a loss for words, she simply nodded at Jenna.

"But you've never had an actual conversation..." Marisol protested.

Ava finished her wine in one swallow, wetting her lips and throat.

"I know..." she finally said.

Marisol watched her warily. Ava didn't care if Noah had never said a word to her. If he was used to fucking so many girls, then she'd just be another woman on his list. He was perfect for the job.

Jenna grinned wickedly, clasping her hands together.

"So what? You're going to knock on his door and say, 'Merry Christmas, neighbor, I want sex'?"

Ava gave Jenna a serious look, not answering the question.

Jenna froze.

Marisol's mouth fell open.

"Ava," Marisol whispered, horrified. "You're not serious."

Ava's heart hammered. "I mean... why not? He's clearly experienced. He's... discreet. And we don't know each other well enough for it to get messy."

"But, Ava..." Jenna leaned in, clearly concerned for the first time tonight. "This isn't buying a sweater on sale. This is your first time, like first time, first time in a while."

"I really don't care. I'm not some teenager who is going to get attached. I want control," Ava said softly. "No strings. No expectations. No emotions. Just sex."

The room stayed silent. Snow drifted softly outside the window.

Jenna whispered, her playful demeanor taking a backseat to Ava's admission, "Are you scared?"

Ava's eyes softened. "A little, but not because of what's to come. I'm just worried that I may get stuck again and that Noah might not agree to go further, just like how Henry didn't agree to go further."

Marisol took her hand, her fingers tracing the back of Ava's hand. "Honey, you'll be fine. With the kind of noise that comes out of his apartment, I doubt he'll turn down your request."

Ava chuckled, then swallowed.

She wasn't brave. Not really. But she was tired of waiting for something that might never happen. Tired of feeling left out of her own life.

And if she wanted to experience sex without the emotional chaos, maybe Noah...mysterious, distant, evidently gifted Noah, was the best and safest choice.

Somewhere down the hall of their building, a bedroom door slammed, making the girls jump in their seats.

Ava exhaled, a shaky little laugh slipping out as they gave each other knowing looks.

"Okay," she said, half joking.

Jenna sat up straight. "Okay what?"

Ava met her eyes.

"Okay... I'm going to do it."

"Tonight?" Jenna stuttered.

"Yeah, what better time than now?" Ava replied.

The truth is...Ava never planned to do it tonight. She had been nurturing the idea of Noah fucking her since forever, but she planned to approach him during Christmas. But then, maybe he'd be booked that day.

And Ava didn't want to go far to look for a lay, not when there was a sex God already livng next door. Now was the best time to go to Noah.

Jenna screamed into a pillow, at a loss for words.

Marisol nearly dropped her mug of hot chocolate.

Ava looked at the clock on the wall.

It read 11:42 p.m.

Her heart pounded. This was it. She just had to wait until midnight. Noah deserved to breathe a little after his little rendezvous.

As soon as midnight came, she was going to knock on his door and ask him to fuck her.

Ava returned to Jenna's couch, her legs curled beneath her, watching the clock tick past 11:45 p.m.

The silence that had settled in Jenna's living room after Ava's admission felt thick and heavy with unspoken judgment and wild anticipation.

Outside, the soft, relentless sound of falling snow was the only thing disturbing the stillness.

"Look, it's not too late to call this off," Marisol said gently. She was pacing the floor, her mug of hot chocolate abandoned on the coffee table. Her concern was a palpable, warm veil in Jenna's apartment, almost making Ava want to lean into the comfort of her friend's concern.

Jenna, meanwhile, was buzzing with a nervous energy that was the exact opposite of Marisol's concern.

She sat ramrod straight next to Ava, sipping her wine so fast she risked staining the white rug.

"Yeah, I mean, Mari's right. You can always bail. You can tell him you had a sudden family emergency if things get awkward. Or, hell, you can send him an anonymous text that says, 'answer the door. It's your lawyer neighbor, and she's horny.'"

"No," Ava said, her voice quiet but firm, cutting through Jenna's frantic attempt at humor.

She didn't look at either of them; her gaze was fixed on the second hand of the clock, willing it to move faster. She wanted this over with. "I'm doing this."

She felt the panic trying to rise, a cold, sharp feeling in her chest, the same way she felt before a major, career-defining court trial. But she ruthlessly pushed it down. She had a plan. Lawyers executed plans. They didn't retreat because of a little fear.

She had faced down senior partners, intimidated witnesses, and argued against some of the fiercest litigators in the city. She could handle knocking on a young man's door.

(No strings. No expectations. Just sex. It's a physical need, like hunger or sleep, and I have a solution living thirty feet away.)

"But, Ava, come on," Marisol pleaded, stopping in front of her. "You don't even know him. We don't know anything about him, not even his full name! Just... just his skills. And frankly, that skill is concerning! What if he's, like, very lacking down there?"

Ava snorted, a small, wry sound. "He's a man who enjoys sex, Mari. Loudly. I'm sure the girls he's been fucking don't care how small or big he is if they continue to go back. And that's all I need to know for this purpose. And as for not knowing him... that's the point."

She turned to Marisol, finally meeting her eyes.

She offered a strained, genuine smile. "It's the safest option. No emotional entanglement. He's a stranger, and I need a transaction. This is just... a service. Think of him as a highly specialized, very convenient contractor for our firm."

"A contractor of chaos!" Jenna exclaimed, raising her glass. "I like it."

Marisol threw a cushion at Jenna, who dodged it with a cackle. "This isn't funny, Jenna! Ava, look at me. You are emotionally vulnerable right now. You're coming off years of being told your body is faulty, that you're not 'wet enough.' What if this goes wrong? What if he's cruel? Or what if he laughs at you?"

That hit a nerve. Ava felt a sharp jab of insecurity. The memory of Henry's refusal, the painful entry, and her subsequent pleading for Henry to just fuck her like that was still a raw wound. That failure had haunted her sex life, or lack thereof, for a decade.

"That's why I want Noah," Ava confessed, her voice dropping to a whisper. "He doesn't know any of that history, and I don't intend to tell him. He has no emotional investment. I can tell him exactly what I need...and he'll treat it like a job. A performance. He'll be professional. He has to be, given the sheer number of... clients he seems to service."

Jenna nodded sagely. "The sheer number suggests high-level client management. Five stars on Google review, I bet."

"I'll be fine, Mari, really," Ava reassured her best friend, placing a hand on Marisol's knee. She pulled herself upright, forcing her shoulders back into their courtroom posture. "If I back out now, I'll never do it. I'll keep listening through the wall, starving myself of an experience that my toys are probably tired of making up for. I'm tired of feeling left out of my own life."

Marisol sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat, but her eyes remained worried. "Okay. Okay. Just... promise me you'll use protection. Lord knows how many girls he's fucked raw. And if you feel even slightly uncomfortable or he tries to take advantage, you walk straight out of that door, you hear me? You call the police, you call us, you scream...whatever you need to do."

"I promise, Mari. And I have my keys and my phone, right here in my coat pocket." She tapped the fabric to prove it.

Jenna checked her watch. "Twelve o'clock sharp. Just enough time for Noah to catch his breath before the next performance."

"Jenna!" Marisol hissed.

"Sorry. But it's true! Timing is everything, Ava. You don't want to walk in on a girl still tying her shoes."

Ava found herself laughing, a nervous, shaky sound that broke the tension. "Thanks, Jenna. That's... helpful."

"And one last thing," Jenna said, her expression suddenly serious. "The age thing. If he looks like a teenager playing dressup, you walk away. If he's under twenty-five, he should have a note from his mother."

"I agree with Jenna on that," Marisol chimed in, relieved to have a concrete boundary with Jenna. "Don't break any laws, Ava."

"Girls, you know it's not illegal to sleep with men older than twenty-two, right?" Ava teased.

Marisol scowled while Jenna grimaced.

"Yeah, yeah...I know but we're not men, Ava. Younger men are all right, I suppose, but like, you're a lawyer, making your own bank. He's still in college, you're miles ahead of him...there's nothing he can give you right now besides his cock. And we all know how very insecure men tend to be when their girlfriends are doing better than they are." Jenna advised, being all serious.

Marisol once again agreed with Jenna. "She's right, Ava. The truth of the matter is that we don't know what he's like. Just walk away if he seems too young."

"Okay, I'll walk," Ava promised.

"Still, I'm thirty-two. I'm hoping he's at least twenty-five. I'll make a judgment call. If he looks like he should be studying for finals, I'm bailing. Happy?"

(Please, God, let him not be nineteen.) Ava prayed silently.

The clock chimed, a soft, electronic chime that sounded deafening in the suddenly quiet room.

Midnight.

"That's my cue," Ava said, standing up. The wine and the sudden certainty of her decision made her movements feel a little shaky, but she focused on the necessity of the act. This wasn't a choice; it was a deadline she had to meet, a box she had to tick for her own well-being.

Jenna jumped off the couch and grabbed Ava in a bone-crushing hug. "Go get 'em, tiger! And if he says no, which by the way is impossible because girl, even in your Winnie the Pooh PJs, you're still taking it!!...you come right back down here. We'll order pizza, watch trash TV, and get blackout drunk. Deal?"

"Deal." Ava laughed, happy to have her friends' support.

Marisol was next, her hug softer, more protective. "Be safe, honey. Text us if you don't feel like coming back down here. Even if it's just a thumbs-up emoji."

Ava nodded, pulling her coat tight around her, the adrenaline spiking. She took one last, deep breath in the warmth of Jenna's apartment, then stepped into the cool hallway.

The air in the stairwell was colder now. The soft glow of the Christmas lights seemed to mock her serious mission. As she climbed the stairs back to her floor, she focused on the rhythm of her feet, trying to regulate her pounding heart.

(This is fine. This is a business transaction. You are a successful woman making a very direct request to a qualified service provider. You handle high-stakes negotiations every day. You can do this.)

But this was different. Her professional confidence felt miles away, locked in her corner office. This was personal. This was primal. This was the most terrifying thing she had ever done in her entire adult life.

She reached her floor and made her way back toward her apartment, stopping short when she reached her own door. Next to hers was the door to Apartment 101.

Noah's apartment. The source of her long-term, unintentional torment.

She took three deep, calming breaths, mentally running through her opening lines. She had to be direct, confident, and leave no room for misunderstanding.

(I hope he's not nineteen. Please let him be at least twenty-five. If I can't verify his age, I'll ask if he's currently enrolled in an undergraduate program.)

She raised a trembling hand and knocked once on the solid wood of his door. It was a firm, definitive rap, the sound echoing slightly in the quiet hallway. She deliberately didn't rush it, needing to project confidence.

Silence.

She waited. Seconds stretched into an entire minute. Every nerve ending was singing. She felt ridiculous, standing here like a Girl Scout selling cookies, except she was selling access to her own body. She considered turning around. Maybe he fell asleep? Maybe the girl never left?

(No. I'm not running.)

Just as she was about to actually run, the lock clicked. The sound was sharp and echoed through the silent hall. The door opened slowly, dragging her attention to the man standing in the threshold.

Ava's rehearsed composure shattered into a million tiny, sparkling pieces.

She'd heard him, imagined him, and obsessed over the noise he made for months. But nothing, absolutely nothing, had prepared her for the sight of him this up close. The sight, which was far more better than she'd gotten from just across the hallway.

He was the kind of beautiful that felt like an unfair, genetic anomaly.

He was tall, truly towering, with broad shoulders that strained the width of the doorframe.

And he was shirtless, the lean, hard lines of his chest and abdomen exposed until they ended in a very well-defined V-line that peeked out of his joggers.

Every pec of muscle seemed to be artfully carved, a landscape of male perfection under the dim hallway light. She could see the faint scarring of old injuries, a roughness that made him look even more dangerous, more real.

Below his waist, he wore a pair of dark gray cotton joggers that hung dangerously low on his hips, revealing the sharp, defined V-line where the fabric dipped into his briefs.

He's like a sculpture. A very, very sexy Russian sculpture.

His hair was brown and disheveled, as if he'd just run his hands through it, or someone else had.

And his face. He had the angular, impossibly handsome features she'd associated with models or actors, all harsh planes, high cheekbones, and an unreadable severity.

But it was his eyes that stopped Ava's breath...a piercing, startling shade of emerald green. They were fixed on her with a blank, unreadable intensity. They held no warmth, no anger, only observation.

She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. The sound was loud in the hallway. Her knees felt suddenly, alarmingly weak, threatening to buckle under the sheer magnetic force of him.

Noah didn't move. He simply studied her. Then, his green gaze dipped, briefly tracing the curve of her full lips before snapping back up to meet her eyes. The fleeting, silent appraisal sent a lightning bolt of heat straight to her core.

Maintain composure. You are a mature adult. Ask about his age.

She cleared her throat, forcing herself to focus on the task. The age question vanished from her mind, replaced by the crushing reality of his physical presence. Good thing he didn't look like a teenager; everything about him screamed Alpha Male.

He still hadn't said a word. He was simply watching her, waiting. He folded his arms over his impressive chest, the movement flexing his biceps. He leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, his posture a picture of casual, bored invitation. Or perhaps, utter disinterest.

Ava fought against the shiver his unwavering gaze sent up her spine. This was too much. The silence. The proximity. The overwhelming, raw presence of him. The air seemed to vibrate with unspent energy.

When Noah didn't make a move to speak or even shift his weight, Ava knew she had to go for the kill. He wasn't going to make this easy.

She forced herself to speak, even though her voice came out slightly breathy.

"Uh... Hi," she began, her voice a little higher and thinner than she intended. She gestured lamely toward her door. "I'm your neighbor. Just right next door. Ava."

Noah's expression didn't change. His piercing green eyes remained fixed on her, assessing, judging, waiting for her to break.

"I know this is late," she pressed on, determined to sound like she was giving a closing argument. "And I know we haven't... formally met. But I heard the sounds. I mean, I hear the uh...girls, frequently." She winced internally.

(Too much information, Ava!)

She paused, willing him to say something. Anything. A groan, a scoff, a single syllable. Nothing. Just the slow, deliberate scrutiny.

She took a final, desperate breath. She was out of polite conversation and running out of nerve. Time for the direct approach.

"Look," she said, cutting to the chase, her lawyer brain finally kicking back into gear. "I need something. A favor, I guess. It's a very specific request, and I'm prepared to compensate you for your time. And frankly, you're... convenient. And clearly skilled."

She saw his brow arch barely perceptibly, a subtle sign that he was processing her words.

"I want you to fuck me."

There. It was out. Blunt, raw, and completely mortifying. She squeezed her eyes shut for a microsecond, bracing for the scoff, the rejection, the demand for an explanation. Her entire body felt frozen, waiting for the verdict.

She opened her eyes. Noah was still there, his arms folded, his face impassive. The silence stretched again, thick and agonizing.

But then, the corner of his lips tilted. A fraction of an inch. It wasn't a smile, not exactly, but an acknowledgement. A small, dangerous ripple across the surface of his control, like a flicker of fire deep in a cave. It seemed to say: I see your audacious proposal.

Then, without a single word, without shifting his gaze from her face, Noah pushed the door open completely, stepping aside to let her in.

The invitation was silent, heavy, and absolute.