Social Neighbor (The Social Series Book 1) (25 page)

I nodded and kissed him again, running my hands through his freshly trimmed obsidian hair.

“Condom?” I asked as I wiggled my hips against his erection.

“No. Do you have one?”

“At my place.”

Goliath grumbled as I lifted myself from his lap and hurried out the door. The moment cool air hit my body I hated being away from his warmth. I ran to my bedroom and jerked my nightstand open without regard for the things inside. I rifled through the contents, pocketed what I came for and ran back to Graham.

He scooped me up by the waist and pulled me back across his lap. I glanced over my shoulder at his leg and cringed. “Are you sure? It’s okay if you think—”

“I’m sure. Kiss me.” And I did. I kissed him with wild abandon. He bucked his hips into mine, grinding his erection against my clit. A hissed breath tore from my throat, and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to take much more waiting.

I hopped off of him and slipped my pants down my legs. I was nervous to show myself to him. He was so handsome, physically perfect in my eyes, and I felt painfully average by comparison. The hunger in his eyes made me feel brave, and I grasped the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head. My clothes fluttered to the floor beside me and before I could get back on top of Graham, he’d tugged his own shirt off revealing his defined torso to me. My mouth watered.

I straddled him and sat up on my knees over him to free his erection from the gray sweat pants he was wearing. He lifted his hips for me and I freed him. His erection thrummed heavily against his belly and I wondered if bringing only one condom with me had been a wise choice.

Graham leaned forward and captured one nipple in his luscious mouth. He suckled and nipped at me, drawing me deeply into his mouth. His tongue flicked and tickled as his hands kneaded my breasts. “Perfect,” he murmured in a deep voice.

“Can’t wait much longer, baby,” he whispered between kisses he was dropping across my breastbone.

“Then don’t,” I said, handing him the condom. His eyes twinkled as he looked up at me and took the condom in his hand. He tore it open and rolled it down the length of his cock.

“Lift up for me, baby,” he ordered. I complied immediately and got up on my knees again. He inched me forward so that I was hovering precariously above the thick length of him. The tip of his hard cock grazed lightly against my skin making me tremble.

“Look at me,” he ordered in that deep, throaty voice. My eyes met his and he pulled me down onto him one luxurious inch at a time. My mouth popped open at the exquisite fullness he’d created within me. An expression of pure delight took over his features. His eyes grew heavy. He clamped his bottom lip between his teeth and edged himself further into me until he’d met my end and I’d met his.

His fingers dug into my hips as I rose and fell over him. The rigid length of him worked perfectly against my muscles. His dark eyes watched me carefully as I rolled my hips against his, each deep thrust creating a zing of pain that only worked to heighten my pleasure. I leaned forward and threaded my fingers through his wayward obsidian hair and tugged his head back, giving me access to his neck. He growled his approval as I nipped and kissed a hot trail across his skin.

The pad of Graham’s thumb covered my clit and he pressed lightly against me, spurring me on. My pace quickened and his thumb followed suit, staying in constant sync with the rhythm I had set. My legs cramped and trembled as my body began to hum with impending release.

Tension tingled within me. Every muscle, every nerve, every inch of me came alive seemingly all at once as burgeoning release crashed over me. My body contracted and seized and quaked around Graham. I tossed my head back as I cried out and reveled in the feel of him. Graham pushed in and out once more, twice more, three times and lost himself in his own bliss. He shook and jerked and groaned.

I watched him in the throws of ecstasy and felt the purely feminine sense of pride in that I had done that to him. I had elicited that response from him, and it left me feeling seductive and powerful.

Graham’s wild eyes met mine again, and he smiled a sated, lopsided smile and my heart skipped a beat. He reached up and wrapped his fingers around the back of my neck and pulled me down to him. He kissed me sweetly, taking my breath away yet again.

“You’re amazing, and I don’t deserve any of you,” he murmured.

“You’re pretty amazing, too.” I smiled against his lips.

“You’re also very lucky.”

“Lucky? Why?” I pulled away just enough to look at him.

“Because if I weren’t stuck with this thing on my leg, you’d be too sore to sit for a week.”

“Savage.” I laughed then eased off his lap.

“Yeah, but I’m
your
savage.”

“Are you?” I studied his face, noting something sad in his eyes. I chose to let it be for now in hopes that maybe whatever that ghost of sadness was, he’d see fit to tell me about it someday soon.

“I am.” He nodded, smiling somewhat ruefully.

“You are.” I nodded with my own smile that I hoped mirrored what my heart felt and that was…pure satisfaction.

“I got something at the store today,” I said as I pulled on my panties and discarded shirt. I turned away from Graham, giving him a moment to get himself squared away. I reached for my bag. Graham waited expectantly as I fished out the Coke and Pop Rocks.

“Uh oh!” he mocked ominously, then tossed a balled up tissue into the small trashcan beside the medical supplies.

“Whatever. I’m not scared.” I shrugged.

“You should be,” he whispered, aiming to frighten me, no doubt.

“The very worst that could happen is indigestion. I Googled it.”

“That’s cheating!” He laughed heartily, that twinkle glinting in his eyes.

“No. It’s called being smart.”

“Cheater.”

“You never said I couldn’t research the things on your dumb list.”

“Well, I’m saying it now. No researching the things on my
brilliant
list. You’ll ruin the experience.”

“So, how do I do this? Do I just pour the candy in first or the Coke? Clue me in.”

“Pour a little candy in the palm of your hand, lick it up, hold it in your mouth and quickly take a drink of the Coke.”

I eyed him closely and felt that familiar yet distant sensation that all kids know well—peer pressure. Graham seemed to pick up on my hesitation, because just then, his eyes grew mischievous.

“I dare you,” he whispered, leaning toward me. I bit the inside of my bottom lip and decided that even at the age of twenty-six, peer pressure was a bitch. I ripped the envelope of candy open, skipped pouring it in my hand, opting for a direct delivery instead. I tapped the envelope over my mouth and a small amount of candy landed on my tongue where it began popping and fizzing. I snagged the bottle of Coke and took a long pull.

Goliath smiled broadly as I waited for my stomach to explode.

It didn’t.

“I
knew
—” I was cut off by a very unladylike belch. “…it wouldn’t do anything! Ha!”

“Yes. It’s a myth but a fun one,” he conceded with a smile.

“Yeah it is.” I grinned.

My mom would not think very highly of me for doing it but she was more paranoid than anyone I’d ever known. I understood how and why she’d come to be that overprotective mother but it was still unnecessary. After Elle died, she’d lost her mind for a while. She panicked and worried over nothing. She feared everything. She became fearful. Even as a little girl I could see that she wasn’t a normal mom.

I banished thoughts of my upbringing and the mess that it had been. Graham was still sitting shirtless in his chair. I licked my lips and decided that he shouldn’t wear shirts. Ever. I idly wished that we could play twenty questions again. There was so much about Graham Stone that I didn’t know yet.

“Why Four-19?” I asked quietly, hoping he wouldn’t mind my probing.

“April nineteenth. It’s Tommy’s birthday.”

“Last month. How old would he have been?” His chest rose and fell with a deep intake of breath.

“Twenty-nine. How old would your sister have been?”

“Twenty-four.” We sat quietly together for a moment, neither of us saying anything else. Just the mention of Elle and Tommy seemed to blanket the room with gloom.

I wanted to tell him more. I wanted to give him some insight into who I was and what I’d come from, but words failed me. They churned like a restless sea somewhere inside me, and I couldn’t make heads or tails of any of it.

“He liked looking at the stars,” Graham whispered so quietly I had difficulty making out what he’d said. “He’s my Eta Carinae. Too big, too much inside for his own good. Doomed to be a super nova.”

“Tell me about him.”

“Thomas Stone. Tom, Tommy. My baby brother. He was so special, you know? Unique.” Graham looked at me wistfully. “He was always so tenderhearted. He was remarkably empathetic. He loved science, particularly astronomy. Loved reading. He was a quiet guy with the biggest heart. Kids tried picking on him a lot. They didn’t do it much after the first time I made an example of one of them. He was smart, but also kind of stuck inside himself. He was unstable sometimes. My mom thought it was adolescent depression. The doctor told her that with changes in hormones and all he could be dealing with something completely normal but as he got older, it didn’t get better. He withdrew from everyone even more. He spent a lot of time alone. He wanted nothing to do with school. I went to school. Columbia. I partied hard. I became distracted by my own life.” Graham glanced at me nervously and swallowed hard. “I forgot that Tommy was struggling.” His good foot tapped restlessly, giving the indication that he was nervous. Graham looked at me like a lost boy.

My lost boy.

I felt tears burning against the backs of my eyes. It wasn’t difficult to see that he was about to tell me something very bad—something that cut him deeply. My heart went out to him, and I wished that he wasn’t hurting that way.

“He committed suicide, and I was nowhere around to help him, to tell him that it was going to be okay, that we could get through this thing together. I didn’t know he was in that bad of a place. I was so oblivious in my own fucked up world,” he mumbled, looking down at his hands, his fingers knotted. “He didn’t see a way out. So he made one. He’s my super nova.” He ran his hands through his hair, ruffling it.

“Graham.” My voice trembled and I was helpless to fight the emotion welling up in me. I knew what he felt. I felt the same. I had felt it for years. That hurt was mine to own and it had been solely mine for so long that it had become an extra appendage. It was my ungainly, heavy, constant weight, and I had always been so preoccupied with lugging it around on my own that it hadn’t even occurred to me that perhaps, when the hurt is so big, so leaden, so much greater than ourselves, that’s when it’s meant to be shared. That’s when it’s meant to be dispersed evenly amongst those with able bodies and willing hearts. In that moment, with his scruffy face in my palms, I wanted nothing more than to share his weight. I wanted to toe the line and see him through, even if it wounded me—maybe especially because I knew it would wound me—I wanted to be the one there to see him through or fail alongside him. Whether the hurt defeated him or he conquered it, I wanted to be the one there to witness it all.

His gaze fell askew, shamed by the tears collecting in his dark eyes. For the first time I found myself feeling grateful for my own hurt because I knew that if anyone could relate to him, it was me. If there was anyone he could reveal himself to, all his hurt and hunger and hope and hopelessness, it was me.

“Don’t hide,” I whispered so quietly I’d wondered if he even heard me. His eyes slipped shut, his jaw was clenched and a single shimmering teardrop breached the rim of his eyes and began slipping like molten mercury down his cheeks. I met them both with a chaste kiss. First on one side and then the other, catching them both with my lips. I kissed away his tears and hoped that he could feel everything I was giving him, everything I was trying to offer up, everything I was saying without saying anything at all.

His dark gaze landed on me and my heart ached so deeply for him. I recognized the agonized look in his eyes. It was the same one that met me in the mirror on days when Elle’s death felt fresh as the moment she slipped from her small body.

“No.” I shook my head with fervor, knowing exactly what he was thinking. It was the same thing I thought about all the time.

“Yes, it is.” His deep voice quivered.

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is. It’s my fault, Flor. I failed him! I failed everyone. It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It is,” he choked out.

“Shush. Not your fault, okay? Not your fault. It’s not your fault,” I chanted to him and maybe to me too. Maybe, just maybe, if I said it enough, he’d believe me. Maybe I’d believe me too.

Tears came quicker. Some mine. Some his. They intermingled and disappeared into each other as I gave myself over to him. My lips melded against his, slow and soft. The pads of my thumbs made gentle passes over his cheekbones and I held him to me. I’d never felt so emotional while kissing a man. I’d never felt so needy, not just for me but for him, too. His hands came up to my face, then snaked down my back. He gripped my waist, he cupped my backside, and he brushed his thumbs over my hardened nipples. His hands roamed the landscape of my body and sprawled out for him to explore.

“Birth control,” I announced, knowing that neither one of us would want the moment to be lost due to having to hunt down a condom.

“At this point, I really don’t care one way or another.”

“That’s reckless talk, Goliath.”

“I’m good at reckless.”

I slipped out of my clothes once more and made love to the troubled Goliath next door, hoping that just maybe, I eased his pain just by being near to him, like he eased mine. His nightmare and his reality painted his world in gray. I wanted to rid his world of gray and brush on vibrant hues like the colors lighting the nebulas on the walls at Four-19.