by S. M. Soto
“Olivia?” I jerk at the sound of Travis’s voice. My heart stalls in my chest, and I slam my eyes shut.
Shit.
With a grunt of frustration, Roman storms away, clipping shoulders with Travis, as he goes.
“Hey,” I offer, tone wary. Dread swirls through my gut at what he might have seen. My God, he’s going to hate me. Not even five minutes after I turn him down, I let another man kiss me. How could I let this happen?
I risk a glance at him and find exactly what I knew I would. Anger. Such unrestrained anger. Taking a tentative step forward, I place a shaking hand over my lips that feel swollen by the aggressive kiss between Rome and me.
“Look, Travis, I can explain.”
He smiles, but it’s cold and so unlike him. Dread settles heavily on my shoulders, weighing me down. “No need. I get it. I more than get it.” He turns on his heels, and I fall back, deflating against the wall.
Crap. This is such a mess.
When I head back toward the table, everyone seems none the wiser, but when I glance at the bar, I realize Rome and his friends are gone. I grab my purse, nibbling on my bottom lip, as I contemplate what to do, but it seems my mind makes its own choice.
“I’m going to head home, guys. I’ll see you at work.”
During the drive home, my hand has found a constant place to rest in my hair where I tug, trying to wrap my head around what happened back there. Every time I blink or fucking close my eyes, I think about Rome. His lips, the way they felt on mine. The taste of his tongue. My core clenches and throbs, almost painfully, and I feel my nipples pebble against the material of my bra, as I replay the kiss, over and over. The way he manhandled me. The way it felt to have his strong arms banded around me. By the time I pull into my driveway, I’m so lost in thought that I don’t notice the lights on in his living room. His garage is closed, but it’s obvious he’s still awake.
Gripping my purse with sweaty, trembling hands, I cross our lawns and ring his doorbell. He answers without a shirt on, and my core throbs painfully at the sight of his toned chest.
“Hi,” I whisper. It comes out breathy. Much breathier than I intended.
He raises an impatient brow down at me, waiting for me to get on with it. I don’t know why I thought he’d make this easy. He’s an asshole, through and through.
Rubbing at the back of my neck, I shift on my feet, uncomfortable with the way he’s watching me. I’m still thinking about the kiss. My eyes keep darting to his lips, and I feel my cheeks heating, as I catch myself doing it.
“Should we talk about what happened back at—”
“Leave.”
I freeze, my heart jerking to an unsteady stop. “What?”
“I said leave,” he grits.
A crushing weight settles on my chest. Something burns the backs of my eyes, but I refuse to believe it’s tears. I will not let this asshole make me cry, not again.
“Why can’t we just talk?”
He clenches his teeth together, causing his jaw to set in a hard line. “Leave, before you make another mistake with me.”
I jerk back at his ire. “You’re not a mistake, Rome.”
He scoffs, smiling coldly. The look is an ice pick to the chest. “Tell that to your doctor boyfriend.” The door shuts in my face, before I can get a word in edgewise.
Ugh! I groan, pounding my fist on the wood. “He’s not my boyfriend, dammit!”
When he still doesn’t open the door, I stomp down his steps and head back home. I collapse against the door, suddenly feeling drained. Today has been a roller coaster of emotions. I don’t know if I should be sad or happy that Roman kissed me. It’s glaringly obvious Roman has been cold with me because of Travis.
Heaving a deep sigh, I lock up, strip out of my clothes, and head for the shower. The entire time I’m washing, I think about Rome. His lips. His hands and the way they felt on my body. Every time I have the urge to touch myself, I force myself to stop. This isn’t healthy. These aren’t healthy or sane habits, and I need to get ahold of myself.
When I crawl into bed, I’m plagued with thoughts of Roman and Travis—of what’s right and wrong. One of them I feel bad for because I turned him down, and the other, I want more than I want to take my next breath.
How did this become my new life?
“Somethin Tells Me”—Bryson Tiller
I just happen to be looking into her bedroom, thinking about what a jackass I am, when she strolls in with a white fluffy towel wrapped around her body. I shouldn’t be able to see so well into her bedroom, but the neighbors before her had put up that shitty little picket fence, and I never changed it. So, instead of a standard fence that gives neighbors a semblance of privacy, there’s nothing blocking our view. Nothing keeping me from watching her.
As if sensing my gaze, she pauses near the window, and our gazes collide through the glass. I can’t tell what she’s thinking. I hope she’s going to shut her curtains. Do something other than stare, because I won’t be responsible for my actions, if she doesn’t cut me off right here and right now.
There’s a challenge there in my eyes. I’m telling her to close it. Shut me out.
I stiffen on the bed when I spot her toying with the knot on her towel. With only about ten feet between our houses, I can clearly make out the defiance on her face, in answer to my challenge. The lighting is dim, but it only serves to highlight her body and her perfect creamy skin. When our gazes meet, it sends a tremor down my spine. I grit my teeth, silently begging her not to do it.
She does it anyway.
Olivia undoes the knot and drops her towel. Heat licks at my flesh, swirling in my gut. I force a thick swallow, taking in her perfect body. I imagine she’s still damp after the shower, droplets of water clinging to her skin. Her tits are perfect, just as I knew they’d be, and more than a handful. Even from here, the dusky color of her nipples is so appealing, I feel my cock strain to life in my jeans.
Dragging my gaze up her body, I settle on her face, and Olivia licks her lips nervously. I swear I even see her cheeks pink, just like they usually do when she’s embarrassed. I clasp my palms on my thighs, forcing myself to keep them there and not anywhere else. When she walks closer to the window, giving me a better view, I just about groan. Her hands, her soft delicate hands, touch the flat planes of her stomach. She feels herself, her soft skin, skimming up to her breasts. My nostrils flare when she sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, while she toys with her tits, pinching her nipples, and fuck me, I almost shoot my load in my pants. That’s how hot it is. How hot she is.
I grit my teeth so hard, my jaw aches. Her chest is rising and falling faster now, like she’s so turned on, she can hardly breathe. When her hand dips low and disappears between her legs, I fucking groan. She works her fingers between her folds, and I watch with rapt attention, as she fucks herself. Olivia rides her fingers, tossing her head back in ecstasy.
My cock is throbbing painfully, and I fight it. Fight the urge to stroke myself. To stroke my cock to the image of her. There would be no going back. There’s a moment when we lock eyes, and I can almost hear all the words she doesn’t say.
Touch yourself. Please.
I can’t come without you.
Fucking hell.
Popping the button on my pants, I take out my cock. It springs free, bobbing heavily. The head is swollen and angry, demanding attention. I wrap my fist around my erection and stroke. Gritting my back teeth together, I pump up and down, as I watch Olivia fuck herself harder, her fingers working faster with each passing second. She clutches onto the windowsill for support. My balls tighten, and I imagine it’s her hand stroking my cock. Her hand milking me.
She lifts her leg, baring herself to me. I can clearly see her fingers disappearing into her tight channel, and fuck me, if that isn’t the hottest sight I’ve ever seen.
Even with both of our windows closed, I still hear her guttural moan. She tosses her head back, mouth dropped open, as she cries out, her body jerking from the afters
hocks of her orgasm. It doesn’t take long for me to follow; my cum spurting from my cock, that is still throbbing angrily. I’ll be hard for the rest of my goddamn life at this rate. I won’t be satisfied until she’s stroking me, and her pussy’s draining my cock.
We both come down from our high, the endorphins leaving our body. Slowly, she stands upright and picks up her towel, covering herself. She walks to the wall, and the light in her bedroom flips off. My eyes slam shut.
She couldn’t do that any sooner?
Jesus Christ.
After some time, I force myself to get up and head into the shower. I have to be up early tomorrow. I have a meeting with Mrs. Archibald, and the last thing I need is to be thinking about Olivia, when I should be thinking about Ryder and getting him back.
I’m shifting anxiously in the chair in the waiting room, frustrated that I’m still waiting here. I don’t know what the hell I’m here for. Mrs. Archibald didn’t specify. Though, I’m sure if it was good news, I would’ve been out of here already, but for some reason, I know it’s not. Whatever they called me in here for can’t be good. My stomach muscles tighten at the thought.
“Mr. Banks? Come on in.”
I push up from the chair, tamping down how uneasy I feel about meeting with Ryder’s caseworker. When I lower myself into the chair, in her small office that resembles a cardboard box, I square my shoulders, not finding any reason to get comfortable. I’m sure we won’t be here long. She’ll deliver the dire news, and I’ll be well on my way.
“I wanted you to come in, so we can talk.”
“About?” I ask in a no-nonsense tone.
Just get on with it already.
“I’d like to set up another home visit. Give you another chance.”
I freeze at her words.
My heart stops.
Everything screeches to a halt.
“You’re serious?”
She releases a breath. “I am. It’s obvious getting your brother back means the world to you. The least I can do is give you both a fair fight.”
Something spreads through my chest. It’s so completely foreign, and I refuse to acknowledge it. It takes everything in me to nod my head, while I process, not letting anything show on my face.
“Thank you. You don’t know how much this means to me.”
She smiles. “I think I do. But this time, try not to mess it up. There are only so many chances I can give, understand?”
Before I leave, she gives me the potential date of the next home tour, and the entire drive home, I’m determined to be better. For Ryder. For his future.
He deserves it.
I might not have had someone looking out for me when I was his age, but I want a different life for Ryder. I want him to have options. I want him to grow up around family who cares, not be stuck in a system and getting buried among countless other children.
When I get home, I’m surprised when I find Olivia in her front yard picking weeds. Mona, one of our neighbors, is standing beside her, chatting her ear off, as she watches her work. I’ve lived here long enough to know who to avoid on this street. While Mona and her family are nice people, she’s a talker, and if she hasn’t noticed, talking is the last thing I like to do. Josie, the older woman across the street, is as nosy as they come. When I first moved in with my bike and my beat-up Chevelle, she turned up her nose at me with disgust with that damned cigarette hanging out of the corner of her mouth.
Then there are Allison and her husband. He’s a chiropractor, great guy, average white-collar family with children who are a tad bit spoiled. The other women from the neighboring homes? They’re the ones I have to watch out for. The divorcees and the lonely housewives. For months, when I first moved in, they’d make a habit of stopping by, trying to strike up a conversation with me. Or when I went on my runs, they’d sit out on their porches and watch me go by, as though they were viewing something on their televisions.
Cutting the engine on my bike, I wheel it in, glancing back over my shoulder, one last time at Olivia and Mona. They’re both staring my way. Mona waves wildly, a wide grin on her face, and Olivia, her face is clear of any emotion, save for the brightness tinging her cheeks. I can’t tell if it’s from working out in the sun or for other reasons—like last night.
My cock jerks to life in my pants just thinking about it.
I have the urge to cross the distance between our lawns—all the mess of the past few days be damned—but just as I’m hanging up my helmet, I hear a voice I dread.
“Roman!”
“Fuck.” I sigh. There’s no way I can shut my garage on the woman, without looking like an absolute dick. It’s obvious to everyone with ears that I heard her. Hell, you can hear Virginia from a mile away. She has one of those voices that carries, and not in a good way.
As Virginia makes her way into my garage, her cleavage and legs on full display, she makes it a point to rest her manicured hand and nails on my arm. I imagine she’d like nothing more than to dig her talons in and never let go.
She compliments me, even when I keep brushing her off. I can feel someone’s gaze on us, and when I glance next door, I no longer see Mona, but I do see Olivia, staring at the two of us, wearing an odd expression on her face. It’s tight, pinched together, in what looks like distress. She pushes off the ground, dusts off her legs, and gathers her tools, before she storms off, inside her house.
“She Wolf”—Shakira
I drop my head into my hands and groan in embarrassment, again, when I replay what transpired through our windows the other night. At the time, in the heat of the moment, it seemed like a really hot idea. Why not throw caution to the wind with the guy next door that I find incredibly attractive? But now, I can’t help but wonder what the hell I was thinking.
Some parts of me are mortified by my actions, and the others are equally aroused by them.
What happened the other night was so unlike me. I’m not that girl. I don’t take risks, and I certainly don’t do those things.
My heart trips over itself in such a reckless manner, as I recall seeing him there in his bedroom. Through the double-paned glass, there was a moment when we locked eyes. I could practically see the battle he was waging. He surprised me. The heavy way he held my gaze the entire time, instead of only ogling my nude body. My breath hitches when I close my eyes, images flashing sporadically behind my closed lids.
The way he dropped his briefs, releasing his impossibly long erection. My mouth was salivating, and I watched with rapt attention, as he fisted himself, still keeping his eyes on mine. Stroking his long cock, he pumped it smoothly.
I snap myself out of it, growing agitated with my lack of self-control. If I had just been a normal neighbor, this awkward mess wouldn’t be happening. Because now that we’ve masturbated in front of each other, we’re back to the awkward phase. He doesn’t talk, look, or even acknowledge my presence, and I, well, I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop trying to get his attention, trying to get him to spare me one word, so we can talk about the kiss and everything else that came after.
Working every day with Travis since the incident at the bar hasn’t been a walk in the park either. Some days, things seem completely normal. He smiles and pretends we’re friends, but then, there are days when he snaps at me much quicker than he normally would. Those are the days he seems perpetually upset with me, and a part of me wonders if things could possibly get any worse. How do the rest of the women he’s slept with in the clinic handle it?
From what I’ve seen, he’s been nothing but a gentleman to them. I can’t say the same for myself, though. During every shift we work together, I’m just waiting for him to snap. I’m waiting for him to blow up.
Just as my mother requested, I finally open that list on my break and research all these potential doctors. And, of course, just as she promised they would be, they are the best of the absolute best that are here in the Bay Area. After work today, I have an appointment with one of the doctors on the list. He�
�s the closest, and they were even able to squeeze me in for a consultation, so I figure it’s worth a shot.
I only have about ten minutes to kill in the waiting room, before I’m called back to the calmly decorated office. Using this time, I scroll through the other links my mother sent me. They’re all from home décor sites. She clearly thinks my house could use some sprucing up. While she and my dad were here visiting, she managed to unpack all my boxes and get the house organized for me; only now, I can’t seem to find where anything is, because she put them in places I never would. With new piping, and no more clutter, my house looks much more put together than it did before. But, obviously, my mother still thinks it lacks character. Can’t say I don’t agree.
Ten minutes come and go, before I’m seated in a stuffy office. There are plaques and awards along the walls that should make me feel better about my choice in coming here today; yet, it doesn’t. The doctor, an aging Asian man, regards me, as he reviews the files I requested to have sent over. His brows furrow, and every so often, he glances at me, more than likely judging me for my life choices.
“Have you had any episodes lately? Anything that should be of concern? Are you being more active than usual, any high-stress jobs?”
I push away the stress of Travis, the stress of fighting with my neighbor, and all thoughts of him stroking his cock out of my mind.
“No,” I lie.
“Well.” He sighs, taking off his glasses and setting them on the desk in front of him. “I’d be happy to take you on as a patient, but things would need to change in your everyday life, and first and foremost, I’d need you to take better care of yourself. While I’m not saying you can’t live a normal life, you do need to proceed by taking precautions. I noticed you mentioned to the nurse that you live alone, which is a bit of a red flag. Do you have someone who comes by regularly to check on you, in case you have any episodes or an emergency occurs?”
I nod, forcing a thin smile on my face, to appease him.
