Neighbors by Ashleigh Royce

from other women. He didn’t care what I thought or felt, as long as everyone else thought we were a perfect couple. He needed the façade so he could hide all of his dirty little secrets.” I sat up and turned to face him. ‘You,” I put my hand on his forearm. I look into his eyes and it’s as if he can see into my soul. “You make love to my mind and my body. You make me feel…sexy, wanted, whole.”
    He kisses me. “You are sexy. And I definitely want you, all the time. Can’t you tell?”
    “No one ever made me feel this way.”
    Despite the dark color of his eyes, they sparkle. As if he reads my mind, he kisses me again, and again, and again. It’s tender and comforting…and electric.
    He laces his hand s through my hair. His mouth is on me. I tug his sweatpants down and off his legs. I wiggle my panties off and pull him on top of me, and he’s inside me before I can even breathe. I groan as he fills me. His muscles flex as he pushes in and out of me. I can’t get enough of him as my hips reach up to meet his. The feeling is arousing, filling, intoxicating.
    His breathing is ragged. He stops. “No. I don’t want to come yet.”
    But I need him. I force my hips up to his. “Please,” I beg. “I need you.”
    He looks into my eyes. They win him and he moves, slowly at first. But then he picks up speed infinitesimally as he impels me. The sensation radiates through me. Our rhythm increases. My grip tightens on his arms. He thrusts once more and then he stills as his orgasm mixes with mine.
    We lie on the couch, in ea ch other’s embrace for moments…minutes…an hour. I don’t know. I’m reeling from the incredible things Dylan makes me feel, physically and mentally.
    “Come, let’s go to sleep,” Dylan says. He takes my hand and leads me upstairs. He tucks me under the covers then climbs into the be d behind me. His arms circle my waist and we fall asleep.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Sixteen
     
     
    The next day, my whole body is sore when I wake. I scoot across the street to change into my ‘paint clothes.’ Although there are no messages on my machine, I give Tracy a quick call.
    “Hey, girl. What’s going on?” she says, her voice woven with sleep.
    “Just wanted you to know that I’m going to be at Dylan’s all day. I’m helping him paint his dinning room. If you need me call my cell, okay? How’d the singles thing go last night?”
    “What a waste of time. If this is what the world has to offer as far as eligible bachelors then I’m going to join a convent.” She laughed. I laughed too.
    “You’ll find someone, Trace. Just give it some time.” Listen to me giving advice about dating. She laughed again, which was the response I was looking for.
    I hang up and head across the street.
    “What are you dressed for?” Dylan asks when I come back into his house.
    “I’m going to help you paint the dinning room.”
    “You don’t have to do that. I’ve got the rest of the house done. The dining room can wait. I want to spend every minute with you.”
    “You will be with me; we’ll just be painting.”
    Three hours later, the dining room is complete and we eat pizza for lunch on the floor in the newly painted room. Dylan starts to arrange the furniture when I remember Greg’s idea. With a slight dip of the brush into the paint can, I walk toward Dylan.
    “Did I miss a spot?” he asks .
    “No, I just want to mark what’s mine.”
    His eyebrows furl. I lift the brush and stroke his butt with the paint-loaded brush.
    “Oh, does t hat belong to you now?” he asks.
    “Yes, it does.” I offer a suggestive grin.
    “Then I claim this.” He picks up a brush and drags it across my breasts.
    Dipping the brush into the paint can again I make a big ‘x’ in the crotch of his jeans. “Mine.”
    He move s close to me with his brush, but drops it into the paint tray. His large brown eyes sparkle. I loosen the grip on my brush and he takes it from my hands, dropping it