Dirty Neighbor (The Dirty Suburbs) (11 page)

Chapter 22

I pull in a lungful of air and rein in my emotions, allowing my neutral face to slip into place. I straighten my shoulders and hold my head high as I swing the door open.

Keeland is standing there in a gray sleeveless hoodie, matching sweatpants and sneakers. His eyes are on fire and his body is pulsing with lust. He takes a single step into the foyer before I can even deliver the snarky line that I had all planned out to say to him. He’s so close, my entire body grows tight and edgy.

Our eyes lock and I feel something electric in the pit of my stomach.

“Go away, Keeland.” I whisper the words and I’ve never sounded more unconvincing in my life.

His hand slides up the front of my throat and he leans in to graze his mouth along my jaw. “Stop being a bitch to me. You know as well as I do that you just want to fuck me until you forget why you hate me.”

I can’t find my words. I have no retort. Because he’s right. Abso-fucking-lutely right.

His clothes are soaked and cling to his skin. He’s dripping rainwater all over the hardwood floor. But that doesn’t matter because he's kissing me now, his wet lips sliding over mine. Sucking and pulling and tasting. He cups my cheeks in his hands and I fist the sopping polyester of his sweatshirt for balance.

And fuck, he's
so
hungry for me. I can feel the bulge under his wet sweatpants and my knees buckle. He pulls my legs around his hips and presses me against the wall near the staircase.

Girls like you don’t belong with guys like Keeland.
Daniel’s warning replays in my head.

My brain is telling me to push him away, but instead I throw my arms around his neck and wrap my thighs tighter around his waist. He kisses me with wildness, softly thrusting his pelvis into mine. I groan when his lips leave mine and find the sensitive flesh of my neck.

We stumble up the stairs, kissing and touching and rubbing all over each other. My hands slide into his hair as his fingers crawl up the back of my thighs and under the flimsy fabric of my pink cotton shorts. I guide him down the hallway towards my bedroom without ever taking my hands off of him. He leans into the door, pushing it open before spinning me around and practically tossing me onto the bed.

God — I love this.

I pull him down on top of me, needing him close even as he’s stripping my clothes off of me. He props himself up on his arms and looks down at my body splayed beneath him. I feel self-conscious under his scalding hot scrutiny. I fight the urge to cover my naked breasts. But then, he licks his lips and grins. “You’re so fucking pretty,” he mutters before pressing his mouth to my collarbone.

I unzip his sweatshirt, eager to feel the firm ridges of his chest under my fingertips. My body shivers from being this close to him. It’s just like the recurring dream I used to have when I was a teenager. Only it’s better in real life.

He reaches into the pocket of his pants and pulls out a ridiculous amount of condoms. I can’t help but laugh. “Pretty ambitious, no?”

His lips touch mine. “I’ve waited forever to do this. We’ll be at it all night, Sammie. All night.”

The threat in his tone causes static to rush through me. Every part of me is alive and anticipating the moment when he’s finally inside.

He hastily pushes his pants to the floor and I barely catch a glimpse of his erection before he slides on the condom. I whimper when he softly runs his knuckles over my swollen seam. “You’re so wet,” I hear the tremor in his whisper.

He eases himself into me and a low groan pours out of his lips. I’m so full. So full of him. His cock stretches me so good. He’s greedy as he pulls my leg around his waist and gets oh-so-deep. His warm, tense body moves inside of me with a greedy intensity that takes my breath away. He’s lost in me, so far gone. I want to tell him to slow down so we can both savor the moment, but…

His body goes rigid. His fingers dig into my thigh. He pumps his release into me with a low, frantic groan.

He collapses onto the mattress next to me, gasping for air.

Huh?

I look at him, dumbfounded and when our eyes meet, we both burst out laughing.

“I — I —” he stammers, clearly in need of an explanation.

“Well, at least I wasn’t thinking about the laundry,” I say dryly. “You didn’t give me the time.”

He reaches over and pulls my hand into his. “You can't blame me. I haven't touched a woman in three years."

Those words shock the fuck out of me. I’d always believed Keeland to be a manwhore and he’s been proving me absolutely wrong ever since he got back to Reyfield. First, he tells me about his fiancé and stepchild. Now, he’s telling me that he hasn’t had sex in
how
long?

“What the fuck, Keeland?” I prop myself up on my elbows, gazing down into his face. “Were you in the priesthood or were you in jail?” I say with giggle.

He doesn’t answer. He just pulls me down next to him, so that we’re lying face-to-face. He holds me close and presses his lips to mine. “Gimme a do-over, babe.”

Before I have time to make another witty comment, he claims my mouth, kissing me with soft but commanding lips. Our tongues touch. Soft but eager. He reaches between us and his big, warm hand massages my breast. His other hand caresses my ass, stroking and squeezing. I moan against his lips.

His touch is tender but there’s no doubt who’s in control. I feel wetness running down the inside of my thigh. He groans when his hand slides between my legs and he feels exactly what he’s doing to me.

“Fuck, Sammie. I need to taste you.” My lusty sigh fills the room as he slithers down the mattress. My muscles tighten with anticipation when he parts my legs, bringing his face between my thighs. He wraps my leg around his neck. The mere feel of his breath against my sensitive flesh is almost unbearable. He kisses me there, pressing his puckered lips to my swollen folds.

“Keeland…” He looks up at me for a brief moment, lust blazing on his face. Then, with a wicked grin, he dives back between my thighs.

His mouth is warm and greedy against my seam, teasing me. The warm tip of his tongue separates my folds and I clench around him, pressing my thighs around his cheeks. The sensation is too much, it’s too strong. I try to squirm away but his hand grips my leg, holding me in place.

“Keeland…” His name sounds like a plea on my lips.

But he won’t show me mercy. He has a reputation to salvage after all.

He tips me over so that I’m lying flat on my back. He sucks on my clit in a terrorizingly slow motion. He slides two fingers inside of me, playing around in my wetness. His groans and mumbles tell me that he’s enjoying the feel of me tightening and pulsing around his wet fingers.

My body arches off of the bed and my legs start to shake. “Shit, Sammie. You’re about to come all over my face,” he groans as he reaches over the side of the bed and pulls another condom from his pocket, “but I want to feel your pussy around me when you…” His voice trails off.

I whimper as he sheathes himself and sits on the bed next to me. He grins down at me and pats his lap. I’m almost too boneless to move so he helps me position myself over his lap and I move down his cock. Inch by inch, my walls close in around him.

He tilts his face up to look at me in the dim room. His lips meet mine and his hands tangle in my hair as he pumps up into me. His short fingernails drag down my back as his tongue explores my mouth. I may be on top of him, but he’s still controlling the pace and the tempo.

He starts to go faster. And harder. I’m whimpering, arms laced around his neck, clinging to him. I whisper his name again and again, inching closer to the edge each time his pelvis connects with mine.

And we fuck.

We fuck like we're mad – mad at each other, mad
for
each other. Mad at the eight years of time that came between us and this moment. Mad at the distance that stood in our way.

We fuck like we hate each other. Like we’re trying to break each other. And maybe we are. Maybe we need to be broken. Maybe that’s the only way to get closure.

I feel something sharp and urgent brewing inside of me. I cry out harshly as it begins to overwhelm me. Keeland’s grip tightens around me as he goes rigid and buries his face against my breast.

Our frantic cries echo through the room as we come together, bodies damp and shuddering and wrapped up in one another.

Chapter 23

I tinker with the radio as Isla pulls out of the service station where she just filled up the gas tank of her old clunker.

“Explain to me again why I had to brave rush hour traffic to come pick you up. Your next-door neighbor teaches an art class right across the hall from your math tutorial.” Irritation wrinkles her forehead as she tries to merge onto Clifford Boulevard. A silver Honda eventually slows to let her ease in.

Because I came all over his cock last night and now I’m too ashamed to face him.

“Because Keeland and I aren’t friends,” I say defensively, folding my arms beneath my breasts.

Isla’s eyes dart over to me for a split second. “Jeeze — calm down, girl. I know you don’t like him but don’t you think it’s just a wee bit immature that you can’t at least be civil with him? I mean, that whole prom mess was – what? – eight years ago?”

I flinch at her harsh words, but I don’t fight back. Guilt squeezes on my vocal chords. Isla’s probably right about me acting immature but she’s all wrong about my newest reason for avoiding Keeland.

Last night was a temporary lapse in judgment. My tall, muscle-bound, tattooed neighbor showed up at my front door, soaking wet with a boner the size of a freakin’ corn on the cob. I can’t be held accountable for my actions.

But I
can
say that it will never happen again.

“Sammie — are you even listening to me?” Isla asks, snapping her fingers in my face.

“What?” I ask, blinking out of my thoughts.

“I asked if we can meet up to discuss some of my accounting stuff next week. I don’t think the numbers are adding up and I’m worried about my cash flow. I could use your opinion.” She shoves her hand into the takeout bag sitting on top of the hand brakes and pulls out a celery stick. Isla’s idea of fast food is raw vegetables, bland meats and boring, low-calorie dips from Herbivore, the health food to-go restaurant next to her yoga studio.

“Sure,” I say with a one-shouldered shrug and a half-smile. From the outside, it seems that the Prasanna Light Oneness Studio is thriving – Isla’s yoga classes are always well-attended and she has loyal customers – but I know that she’s struggling. Her rent is killer and there’s a limit on how much she can increase her prices in a small town like Reyfield.

“What’s up with you?” Isla’s forehead creases as she quickly glances at me again before making a left onto Hyatt. “You’re completely distracted. This has something to do with Keeland, doesn’t it?”

I can’t hold it in anymore. Isla’s my best friend and I need to get this secret off my chest. “We fucked last night!” I blurt out and then my hands clasp tightly over my mouth.

Isla gasps so hard that she erupts into a fit of coughs. “I —” Cough-cough. “I — I knew it!” Cough. “I knew you two would end up fucking!” Her eyes are watering now.

I frown at her. “What are you talking about? It was an accident. A mistake.”

“An accident?” Her gaze shifts over to me, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “The tension between the two of you has been building since we were teenagers. Sex was bound to happen eventually.” She slaps her hands against the steering wheel. “So spill…was it fucking awesome?”

I stare straight ahead, the events of last night playing out before my eyes like a movie. “No…” I say slowly. “Then, hell yes.”

“What does
that
mean?”

“Well, at first he came really fast.”
Stop talking, Sammie.
I grab a grilled chicken stick from the takeout bag and shove it into my mouth to shut myself the hell up.

Isla grimaces. “Oh, hun. I’m so sorry.”

But she doesn’t quite understand what I’m trying to say. “No Isla —
at first
, he came fast…but then, we did it again. Over and over and over. With his tongue and his hands and his cock. I don’t want to get too graphic, but —” I reach over and catch her hand in mine. “Isla…” I say giving her ‘the eyes’ and she automatically knows what I mean.

“It was
that
good?” she questions, a skeptical curl on the edges of her lips.

I nod wistfully. “It was
that
good.”

She grins wide. “Well, apparently the enjoyment was mutual,” she says tipping her chin in the direction of my front yard just as Keeland parks his truck haphazardly in the driveway and rushes across the slushy lawn up to my front steps.

My heart volleys against my chest. I watch him ring the doorbell before he uses his big hand to shade his eyes and peep in through the living room window.