Social Neighbor (The Social Series Book 1)

by J. L. Mac

  He pushed in one rock solid inch at a time, filling me to barely within my limits. He was pushing the line between pleasure and pain and I loved it. He sheathed himself fully within me and his head tilted back, his jaw tensed, and he groaned.

  “Fuck,” he gritted out, extracting himself to the tip just to push himself right back in. His pace picked up. He thrust in and out of me and I bucked my hips against his. He leaned forward, scooped me up and sat back on his heels. I wrapped my legs around his waist and moaned with every deep thrust he made. My muscles tightened around his cock as a new wave of pleasure built and surged forward. I cried out his name as my orgasm tore right through me. I shook in his arms.

  He plowed through me, hammering in and out and in and out. Beads of sweat sprang up across his brow, his skin flushed, every muscle in his gorgeous body tensed as he rocketed forward, delivering blow after delectable blow to the depths of me.

  “Fuck, baby!” He groaned and shook as he found his release deep within me. Graham collapsed forward, burying his face in my hair. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he grunted in a raspy voice.

  “Why do you say that?” I laughed.

  “Because I’m going to need to do this at least three times a day for the rest of my life.”

  “You won’t be able to keep it up when you’re old.”

  “Hey! Don’t discount my manhood, woman.”

  “Okay, okay. I guess I’ll have to stick around and find out what old and gray Graham is like.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yes. I promise.”

  “Good because your name sucks. Florence Stone sounds much better.”

  “Ha!” I barked a humorless laugh. “I won’t give up my name unless I have to.”

  “You have to.” He kissed away any protest that was about to spill from my mouth. I melted into him and savored the taste of him. “It wouldn’t be right for my wife and the mother of my children to have a different last name,” he whispered.

  My eyes widened at his declaration but mostly due to the serious look in his eyes. “Don’t panic on me. Not yet, but only because you aren’t ready for that, but one day, Flor, you’ll be my wife and I’ll spend all my free time trying to get you pregnant with little Stone babies.”

  “Savage,” I whispered through the tears that had begun to well in my eyes. Graham chuckled and kissed me once again, this time reverent and full of passion, love, and promise.

  I lusted for the man I met at the gallery, then again at Indigo. I was mesmerized by the man I peered at massive stars with at Four-19. I fell in love with the boy next door, and I lost the wounded man who lived high above Manhattan in his very own castle tower.

  They were different, yet the same. Each of them were insights into the man that Graham was. Each of them were mine in their own ways, and each of them taught me a few things about myself.

  Everyone’s life is a story. Their story is a book that is all their own. Sometimes, your story doesn’t turn out just as you’d planned. Things happen that you hadn’t plotted out. Characters show up and vanish without preamble. Settings change, and once it’s done and you read through the story you’ve penned, you realize that it is so far from what you had originally outlined for yourself that you hardly recognize it. But the beauty of writing your own story is that you can change it. You can go back and rewrite history, in a way.

  Graham showed me the way. He gave me the gift, the power of creation. My childhood was one that no little girl should ever have to live through and as an adult, I had been unkind to myself over something that wasn’t the fault of a four year girl. Graham made me see it was my story and if I wanted to rewrite it, I could. I could choose how it ended. I couldn’t go back in time and take back what had been penned in my own personal story, but I could change how it affected me and how my story ended. I could own my story, shape it, mold it and grow with it.

  He was that token boy next door who made me mad, picked on me, teased me, and loved me so completely that it stole the breath right from my lungs.

  Without knowing it, Graham had given me something that I didn’t know I’d been missing. Or if I did know, I wasn’t quite so conscious of its absence. He’d given me redemption and the knowledge that I had the ability to rewrite my own book.

  I knew being with Graham Stone would never be easy, that I’d perpetually walk the thin line between being his weakness and his greatest strength. I knew he’d challenge me more than anyone and anything else. I knew we were an unlikely pair. I knew my demons would not go quietly into the dark and neither would his. I knew his sobriety would be a daily fight requiring more diligence than either of us sometimes had and that my regret and my guilt would take a long time for me to figure out how to manage.

  But…

  I also knew that there was no other place for me. There was no other man for me, no other struggle I wanted to wage war against more. There was no other man worth fighting for. Not for me. Graham Stone, the goliath man with a tender heart and a kind soul and deep scars, was where I belonged and where I planned to stay.

  I missed out on a lot as a girl, and I hated that, but in a way, I was thankful for it because I was given the opportunity to relive those days; to experience them for the very first time and turn them from something tragic to something magical. And I did it all with the goliath next door.

  Graham

  Six years later…

  “Thomas Stone!” Flor called from the living room. She had that tone and I glanced down to see big gray eyes looking up at me a little nervously.

  “You better go. She’s going to come find you!” I nudged him with a wide smile.

  “You go!” he whispered with a bit of a lisp thanks to his missing front teeth.

  “Nuh-uh. It was your idea.” I shook my head, working hard to keep my laughter at bay.

  “Come with me,” he pleaded and I was a sucker for those big gray eyes. History had proven as much.

  “Okay, fine.” I brought my balled fist up and his much smaller fist bumped against mine. We left our hiding place in my office and strolled out into the open space of the living room as coolly as possible.

  “Did you call me, mommy?” I had to applaud my little guy. He knew how to play cool. Something he learned from his old man, no doubt.

  “Ha! Yeah, go ahead and use that sweet little voice on mommy. It won’t save you though.” She narrowed her beautiful gray eyes on our little boy. “You know what happened when I switched on my blow dryer after my shower this morning?”

  “What?” he squeaked. I watched his little throat work as he swallowed.

  “Baby powder. A whole cloud of it. Everywhere. Can you explain to me how a bunch of baby powder ended up in mommy’s blow dryer?” Her voice was eerily calm and held a sweet lilting tone to it that all men instinctively knew spelled trouble.

  Small as he was, Tommy was no different. He glanced up at me nervously then back to Flor. I patted him on his back as a show of manly support but I was having trouble keeping a straight face.

  “Nuh-uh. I don’t know. Maybe uncle Matty did it.” He shrugged and tried passing the buck like a pro. Holding back my laughter was becoming very difficult. I brought my hand to my mouth and held it there to cover my smile. Gray eyes landed on me and I shrugged with wide eyes.

  “No clue,” I muttered from behind my hand.

  “Uh-huh. Well, since I’ll be busy cleaning the bathroom all day, I guess I won’t be making those peanut butter cookies like I had planned. Oh well.” She shrugged and sighed as she started getting up from her spot on the couch. It took her a while. Poor thing. Her belly was round and tight and she was more than ready for our little girl to come into the world. Any time now.

  “Daddy made me do it!” Tommy squeaked and pointed his small index finger at me like a loaded gun.

  “What? I did not!” I laughed despite my efforts.

  “Just as I thought.” She nodded with a satisfactory smile in place. She somewhat waddled to the end table nearest her a
nd picked up a bag. “I got you two something this morning.”

  “Oh! Oh! What is it! Daddy! A surprise.” Tommy grabbed the hem of my shirt and tugged me forward. She reached down into the bag that I recognized from the gag shop we’d been to multiple times before. I heard a subtle click from inside the bag and I narrowed my eyes on her. Our five year old son wasn’t the only one who had learned a few things from me.

  “I hope you like it,” she whispered then jerked the can of silly string from the bag and began spraying hot pink, foamy, wet string all over me and Tommy. He screamed like a banshee and ran in a wide circle, skirting his mother. That melodic laugh that I lived to hear filled my ears and my heart skipped. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to hearing it. I ran to Tommy and scooped him up by his waist, hauled him up and flipped him to hang upside down over my shoulder.

  “Get him, mommy! Get him!” I shouted.

  “Daddy! You’re supposed to be on my team!” His little fists pounded against my back, his feet kicked and flailed.

  “Sorry. I’m on mommy’s team first, kiddo!”

  Flor sprayed string all over his back, in his hair and made it a point to cover me with a fair amount as well.

  The can sputtered as it emptied and she stopped laughing abruptly. My heart stopped, my breath caught. I sat Tommy on his feet and went to her. She held her small hands over her pregnant belly and looked up at me with a sweet smile tilting her full lips.

  “My water,” she said, trying to look past her belly to the floor.

  “Looks like our little girl doesn’t want to miss out on any more fun. We’re having a baby.” I ran my hand across her abdomen and bent to kiss her.

  “I’ll call Matt and Cal,” she whispered.

  “I’ll get the hospital bag.” I tucked loose strands of long red-flecked brown hair behind her ear and smiled reassuringly. She still made my heart leap.

  “Okay.” She grinned nervously. I pulled her to me and brought her face to mine.

  “Thank you,” I whispered against her lips.

  “For?”

  “For Tommy. For little Elle. For everything.”

  She kissed me once more and pulled back, fanning her hands in front of her face as she breathed deeply. “Don’t make me cry,” she admonished, poking her finger into my chest.

  “Everything makes you cry.”

  “I know. Now hurry up. We have a little girl to meet today.”

  The End

  As per usual, there are so many people that I must thank for their support while I wrote this book.

  To my beta readers, thank you all so very much for your support, your suggestions and your enthusiasm. Tesrin, Laura, Tamron, Melissa, Erin, Sally, Lisa, Shawna, Linda, I may never let you all go. Just saying.

  Many thanks to the editors at Indie Solutions by Murphy Rae. A fabulous editor is hard to come by and I am grateful to Murphy, Kristen and Megan for polishing Social Neighbor until it gleamed.

  Thank you to Champagne Formats for making Social Neighbor so darn pretty to look at.

  Thank you to Robin Harper, my cover designer, for making the outside of this book more gorgeous than I had dreamed of. I came to you with little to no concept and you made magic happen. Again. As always, thank you.

  Thank you to my readers. You all humble me everyday and not a single word is written without you all in mind. Thank you for the opportunity that you have given me. I get up everyday, sit down in my office in pajamas and get to live my job. You could never know just how much that means to me. Thank you.

  Lastly, to Cody, my love, thank you. I don’t know that I could ever express to you just how much your support and encouragement, your belief and investment in me and my dreams means to me. There are no words only the full feeling in my chest when I think of you.

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