Page 1 of The P*ssy Next Door

THE CAT DISTRIBUTION SYSTEM STRIKES

HAYES

Idon't own a cat.

I've never even had one as a pet in my life. I've always thought of myself as more of a dog kinda guy. We had big old bear-sized dogs growing up and I loved each of them.

But being a single guy with a lot on my plate, rocking my rookie year on the Mustangs, gaming live streams with my brothers, and living on my own for the first time in this way-too-big-for-one-man house, I didn't think it was right to get a dog that I wouldn't have time to give all the love he deserves.

Someone should tell the cat, who was currently snuggled up between my knees, all of that. This snoring or purring fluffball was the only warm body I'd had in my bed, so I wasn't complaining. Simply confused AF.

I was awake at stupid o'clock in the morning partly because I had practice and mostly because of the neighborhood alarm rooster known as Luke Skycocker. His crowing didn't seem to faze the cat.

No wait. It was Saturday. The running team’s meeting wasn't until this afternoon. Dammit. I could have slept in.

Maybe I was still asleep, because how did a cat even get in my house, much less upstairs to my bedroom, not to mention on my bed and curled up between my legs?

And if I was dreaming, I might as well dream up a warm, fluffy, purring woman between my legs. I stared down at the fluffball and squinted my eyes, trying with all my might to transform it into the girl of my dreams.

It rolled over and yawned, stretched out its paws, and stuck me right in the thigh with nails sharper than ninja stars.

“Yowch. Watch where you put those things.” I yanked my leg away and the cat went flying off the bed like a speed racer.

“Wait, where are you going, cat?” Shit. I didn't mean to yell at the thing. And now it was probably cowering somewhere in my house. I threw the covers off, noting three bright red puncture wounds way too close to the family jewels, and padded out into the hallway and down the stairs. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty. Sorry I scared you.”

“Dude. I don't know what kind of weird sex games you and whatever girl you've got up there are playing, but I can already see your junk.”

I stopped dead in my tracks at the foot of the stairs for two reasons. One, my older brother Flynn was standing in my kitchen and I was bare ass naked, and two, the cat was perched right above his head on top of the refrigerator and it looked like it was about to pounce.

“Don't move,” I said very quietly so as not to scare it into action.

“Come on, it's fine. I'll just close my eyes so you can get your girl back up to your room in private. I swear, I haven't seen anything.” Flynn closed his eyes, but also shoved a spoonful of Peanut Butter Cap’n Crunch into his mouth without missing a beat.

“There's no girl.” There was never a girl. “But there is a scared cat who looks like it's about to launch itself at your head. Which is why I said don't move.”

Flynn did, in fact, move. He dropped to a crouch, cupping the cereal bowl against his chest, which is the only reason the cat landed on his back instead of his head. “Ow, ow, holy shit, get it off, get it off.”

“Hold still, dumbass, and I'll grab it.” I reached for the animal, and I swear it smiled before digging its hind leg claws in deeper and launching itself off Flynn's back and straight for my face.

But if there was one thing I knew how to do, it was catch a compact package when it was thrown at my head. I zigged to the left, snagged the cat in mid-air, tucked it under my arm like a furry little football, and rolled across Flynn's back, right to the open sliding glass doors that led to my backyard.

That must be how both the cat and Flynn got in. The lot of us Kingmans were in and out of each other's houses all the time, since we lived on the same street. I honestly liked having them around, had even converted my living room into a state-of-the-art gaming and streaming center for the four youngest of us brothers.

But I was just getting used to living on my own. I'd even taken to sleeping naked, since there weren't usually family or cats... or women in my house at the butt crack of dawn. Better go haul my PJ pants back out of the bottom of the dresser.

I planned to release the demon cat back into the wild. I darted through the door and into the backyard thinking I'd just plop the cat come football on the lawn so it could be on its merry way.

But for the second time that morning, I stopped dead in my tracks.

“Hiya, Hayes. Have you seen—” A messy bed head of dark brown hair poked up on the other side of the fence, and then those pretty blue eyes, that cute button of a nose, and the sweet round cheeks of Willa Rosemount popped up too.

“Oh my god, oh my god.” She slapped her hand over her eyes and turned her face into the sun. “Why are you naked?”

If I was Everett, or even Flynn or Gryffen, I'd have something cool to say in answer to her question and freak out. But I was the one Kingman with no rizz and stood there like a lump on a log. Or rather a lump with a log.

What can I say, I was fresh out of bed and I'd already had a shot of adrenaline. The combo meant I was sporting some serious morning wood, and I absolutely refused to use this cat to cover it up. I'd already felt the razor slice of its claws a bit too close for comfort.

Flynn, somehow still munching away on his bowl of my cereal, stepped onto the grass beside me. “Hey, Willa. I didn't know you were back in town. Where in the world were you this time? Istanbul? No, that was last year.”

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