Sugar Page 12

  Kenny should have graduated the same year as me, but he’d run away that spring and last I’d heard he was in jail. I needed to turn the conversation back to him.

  Before I had the chance to think of a distraction, the interrogation continued, and he asked, “What about your parents?”

  “My mom’s still there. I talk to her every couple of weeks.”

  “And your dad?”

  I sighed. “Can we not do this?”

  His eyes strayed from the road, but only briefly. “Sure. Sorry.”

  I was terrible at this. No wonder I preferred dating people who didn’t give a shit about the real details of my life. I had no experience with sharing.

  “Sorry, I just don’t like talking about my family.”

  “No problem.”

  A drawn-out silence consumed the car until even our quiet breathing sounded awkward. “Um, what about you? Are you close to your family?”

  “Yeah. I only have one sister, and my parents are awesome. They’re living in Florida for the winter—snowbirds—so I haven’t seen them since Thanksgiving.”

  “Oh.”

  “No one’s at the house tonight. I could show you where I grew up.”

  Equally intrigued and frightened to see his childhood home, I agreed, “Okay.”

  We reached a small town in less than thirty minutes. Charming stores dotted the old street, and I suddenly felt like I’d stepped onto the set of Gilmore Girls.

  “You grew up here?”

  “Right down that road.”

  “It’s so pretty.”

  “It’s a nice area. They filmed the movie Signs in the next town over.”

  It looked like a movie set. He parked in a half-full lot filled with expensive cars. As I waited for him to get my door, it occurred to me he hadn’t taken me anywhere over the top, but somewhere that would teach me a little bit about him. It was personal and intimate, in a way my other dates weren’t.

  The taproom was a restored historic building with exposed stone masonry and glass walls and vaulted ceilings. The menu was New York inspired but simple—gourmet pizzas and samples of exotically seasoned lamb skewers and bacon wrapped scallops.

  Between the delicious food and laid-back atmosphere, my anxiety slowly dissipated. The beer also helped.

  The waiter supplied narrow trays of tiny beer glasses, each one a different shade of amber and some tastier than the rest. “I don’t usually drink beer, but this is fun. I like learning the different flavors.”

  The more I sampled, the more at ease I became. Conversation soon flowed effortlessly between us, and I stopped worrying if he was out to unravel all my secrets.

  “What’s your major?”

  “Education.”

  “Really?”

  “Does that surprise you?”

  “No, I think there’s a nurturer hidden in you somewhere, the sort who makes her neighbor chicken soup when he’s sick.”

  “Well, it was broth—”

  “It was sweet.” His hand closed over mine, his thumb tracing the back of my fingers. “What grade do you want to teach?”

  “Kindergarten or sixth grade. They’re not as cute in between.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t say high school. You’d have a class full of hard-ons and no volunteers to go to the board.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “No, you don’t. You know boys better than most, and you’re well aware of how sexy you are.”

  When he called me out like that it made me nervous. “Did you go to college in the city?”

  “No, I did a two year school down south that specialized in media, arts, and technology.”

  “So you always knew what you wanted to do?”

  “Didn’t you?”

  “No.”

  I just knew I wanted something different, something useful and respectable. I wanted something I could count on that wouldn’t become obsolete and something that would make others believe I was decent and good—two things I very much wanted to be.

  He nudged the last glass toward me. “Drink up. I’m driving.”

  I chuckled, my tension now transformed by tipsiness. “Are you trying to get me drunk on the first date?”

  “It’s only a first if there’s going to be a second.”

  “True.”

  The word left my lips before my common sense weighed in. The agreement was one date. One. Yet, the idea of doing this or something like this with Noah again held more appeal than I wanted to admit. I was enjoying myself more than I had on a date in … years. Or … ever.

  I raised the glass and sipped, finishing off the tray of sample brews. “This one’s good. Probably one of the best I’ve had tonight.”

  He smiled. “After you’ve had that many samples, everything starts to taste good.”

  I waved a playful finger at him. “Ah, is that your strategy with dates?”

  “Yeah, but don’t tell my date.”

  I laughed. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

  He glanced over his shoulder, but there was no one left in the dining room but us. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

  “And go where?”

  He shrugged. “Walk around? Drive?”

  “Two seconds ago you said I knew boys. That carries over to men. If leaving here meant driving back to the city and saying goodnight you wouldn’t be rushing us out the door.”

  His blue stare met mine, and he smiled. “Touché. Will you let me show you where I grew up?”

  “Noah…”

  “Night’s not over, Avery. Have you been enjoying yourself so far?”

  “Yes, but…”

  He tossed several twenties on the table and stood. “Come on. It’ll be fun. I’ll show you where my mom keeps the embarrassing pictures of me.”

  Unsure if this was a mistake, I followed him. What choice did I have? He was my ride home. But more than that, I wanted to pretend for a few hours—see how the other half lived.

  As I slipped on my coat, he helped me with the buttons again, this time holding my stare. Our breathing seemed suspended, as if holding onto an unspoken promise about to be released.

  He held my hand as we walked to the car and opened my door, making sure I had plenty of opportunities to notice his manners. As we drove, the streets were uncongested, and the night was clear.

  “Do you live far?”

  “Just another few miles up the road.”

  Tension twisted with anticipation, forming a delicious potion in my belly. It was enough to keep me on the verge of punch drunk, yet sober enough to maintain my wits. I wanted to tip over to the drunk side and let go, but that wasn’t my nature.

  His house was enormous, the sort of home featured in magazines with Martha Stewart baking muffins in the kitchen and Pottery Barn furniture in every room.

  “I’ll hang up your coat.”

  He left me standing in a gaping foyer feeling well outside of my comfort zone.

  “Want a tour?”

  “Sure.” The contrast in our backgrounds had never been as evident as they were the moment he flipped on the lights.

  The kitchen was incredible. He took my hand and escorted me into what could only be the living room. It was twice the size of my mom’s trailer. There was an entire game room in the basement, furnished with cinema chairs, a big screen television, and numerous arcade games.

  “I can’t believe you grew up here. It’s a suburban palace.” And completely intimidating.

  “Wanna see upstairs?”

  I hesitated, knowing full well what upstairs would lead to and unsure why I was still fighting what now seemed an inevitable outcome. I was in a losing battle, and it wasn’t like me to surrender without a fight.

  There were consequences. I knew my answer would come at a price, but standing here in his beautiful—normal—childhood home made me want to pretend I belonged, pretend I was worthy.

  Tomorrow we would be back home, and I’d be a sugar baby, and he’d be the out of my league man I fucked. He had
to realize the consequences wouldn’t change.

  Was it just about tonight for him? Was that how he could overlook all the ways we were unsuited? Was this about sharing his background or fucking me on a neutral playing field?

  “Why did you bring me here, Noah?”

  He cocked his head. “I wanted to show you who I was.”

  And he had. He wasn’t playing the douche bag, nor was he trying to impress me with over the top treatment. He was just being himself, and it wasn’t fair that the real him was more irresistible than the handsome stranger who lived across the hall.

  Everything was normal here. My phone hadn’t rung. The costumes I wore in the city were out of sight and out of mind. I didn’t know who I was when I stood in his home, so many miles from my own. I didn’t know how to act or be with him.

  But I wanted him, and I didn’t want to think about the consequences for once in my life. I wanted to live in the now and experience the fantasy because he made the possibility of normal seem so tangible I could reach out and grab it. I just had to find the balls to give in.

  I glanced around the empty house. “No one’s coming here?”

  “They’re all in Florida. We have the house to ourselves.”

  “You want to stay here tonight?” I inwardly winced, not used to asking. I kept waiting for my assertive self to take the lead, but for some reason, it wanted Noah to call the shots. Maybe that way I could blame him in the morning.

  “Only if you want to stay.”

  I shrugged—more shy bullshit I wasn’t used to—my fingers tracing over the polished banister that led to the second floor.

  “I’m not sure what I want. You confuse me.” The honest vulnerability kept leaking out. Damn it, Avery. Where are you?

  “Maybe that’s not a bad thing.”

  “Maybe it is.” It definitely wasn’t good.

  “Care to find out?”

  My gaze lifted to his and a shiver shot through my system. This was so different from everything I thought I wanted, everything I knew I needed. Despite my wishy-washy words, I had to be clear on the outcome.

  “What happens tomorrow?”

  “We go home and see how things play out.”

  So this could still be just one night. I could live with one night. It was the thought of more that scared me.

  When would I have another opportunity like this with him, alone and isolated from the stresses of the world, away from the city and the life it represented for me? If we both treated this as a one-time thing, we might be able to stay friends. He’d have it out of his system, and I’d prove that—in the long run—he wasn’t the right man for me.

  Glancing down at my feet, I slipped off my heels and set them on the first step. “Show me your room.”

  “Really?”

  I nodded, too afraid to talk.

  His fingers slid alongside mine as he took my hand and led me upstairs. The quiet seemed to echo through the empty, immaculate home. We stopped outside of a closed door, and he faced me.

  “I… I don’t expect anything, Avery. Don’t think just because we’re here, I assume…”

  Why did he have to be sweet now? I needed him to be transparent as much as I needed him to be unwavering and sure of what he was asking. Otherwise, we couldn’t do this. It was now or never.

  “I know why you brought me here.”

  “Do you … expect…?”

  Yes, and so did he. Talking was only jumbling matters. “Let’s not decide what this is and just let it happen.” I reached for the knob and opened the door.

  Grays and dark wood, uncluttered by items a teenage boy might have left behind, presented a clean space with subtle personal touches. For some reason, the maturity of the room made me like him more. It spoke of his good relationship with his family and testified he still slept here on occasion, even as an adult.

  “This is nice.” I scanned the room and stared down at the bed.

  His hands rested on my shoulders as he approached. Slowly, he swept my hair aside and pressed a kiss to my neck, causing my nipples to tighten.

  My eyes closed as I drew in a deep breath. His fingers trailed down my arms, over my hips, and across my midriff, teasing the skin of my belly.

  “I’m not going to lie, Avery. I want you more than my next breath.”

  I leaned into him, passively resting my arms at my side, wondering how long I could let someone else take the lead. Eventually, I’d take over, but this was nice. His fingers trailed up my stomach, teasing soft circles on my skin.

  He was like a magic snake charmer or some sort of wizard. No one else settled me the way he did, and it was strange that he somehow subdued my usual instinct to take the lead. His teeth scraped along my throat, and I sucked in a sharp breath that exhaled as a moan.

  “I think you like when I’m a little bit rough, don’t you?”

  Mmm… Rough was the only way. “Yes…”

  “I can do that.” His hand slid under my loose sweater and cupped my breast, his thumb dragging slowly over the tight tip. “You liked when I pinched your nipples, too, didn’t you?”

  “Mmm…” I had been a mess after leaving his apartment that night.

  “What is it you want, Avery? To be loved or fucked?”

  Love? My mind shied away from that sticky word.

  Love was uncomfortable, a source of guilt and obligation that led to grief. No matter how much I might want to be loved, it wasn’t what I wanted tonight.

  I wanted something I could count on and judge at face value, without accidentally mistaking it for more.

  “I want you to fuck me.”

  His hands yanked my sweater over my head, and in the next second, I was facing him, his fingers buried in my hair, angling my head back as his lips sealed over mine.

  He backed me toward the bed, his tongue devastating my mouth as it plunged deep, silently delivering promises of what was to come.

  Noah was a man who kissed with his whole body. When his mouth was on me, so were his hands. His front pressed to mine as if we were melded into one and I savored every inch of warm, hard contact.

  “I love that you’re not fragile.” He tugged the straps of my bra down my arms, and I pulled free.

  If only he knew how breakable I was. How broken. Grasping at his broad shoulders, I deepened the kiss.

  “You’re a greedy little thing, aren’t you?” His fingers shoved into the front of my jeans, tugging my hips closer to his as his erection pressed between us. “I can’t wait to get in your pussy.”

  I gasped as he shoved me onto the bed, his tall body towering over mine. Holding my gaze, he reached behind his head and stripped off his shirt in one forward yank.

  My mouth went dry. How was he so built when he hardly worked out? Or did he, just not at the same times I used the gym? He flicked open the button of his jeans but left the zipper intact.

  “God, you’re fucking sexy.” His mouth devoured the sensitive curve of my neck as he lifted my arms. “Keep them up.”

  I stiffened, his command grating against my nature and calling up all my usual instincts. “I don’t bottom.”

  There she is. Finally, the Avery I knew and loved was getting into the game.

  Noah chuckled, dragging his hand up my spine to flick open the first hook of my bra. “What does that even mean?”

  “It means I don’t play the submissive in bed.”

  He laughed and yanked my knees forward until I was flat on my back. “We’ll see.”

  No, we wouldn’t, because I wasn’t going to lie there like some fuck doll for him to boss around. I didn’t follow directions from men off the clock. And if this was truly going to be a one-time thing I had only this one chance to show him what it meant to fuck me.

  “Freeze.” I held up a hand, and he stilled. Holding eye contact, I untwisted my bra and tossed it on the floor. Next came my jeans. As I slid them down my legs, revealing a deep violet thong, I watched his color rise.

  “Jesus.”

  Shiftin
g onto my knees, I reached for his pants, tugging him closer, much like he’d tugged me. “On your back.” The command followed a hard yank, and he tumbled to the mattress.

  I didn’t give him a chance to contemplate how the roles had changed. I straddled his hips, rocking my body over the bulge beneath his waist and finding the position that was most pleasurable to me.

  His hands caught my hips, his grip tight, almost bruising. Just as momma was finding her groove, he flung me off of him, and I landed on my back again, under him.

  “Don’t be selfish.” He flashed a cocky grin and dropped his head to my breasts.

  I gasped as his mouth closed over one nipple, teeth scraping and lips pulling tight. My body arched into his, my nails scaling down his muscular arms.

  My fist closed around his wavy hair, anchoring him to my chest. “Harder.”

  He ground his erection into me, rocking us like two teenagers on the brink of disaster. His mouth tightened while his other hand teased and pulled. I could come if he did this a while longer.

  “Ah…” The bite to my nipple pinched on the cusp of too hard, but then my body adjusted to the pain and I moaned. My taut muscles relaxed as my lashes lowered, giving in to the pleasure.

  “You really like it rough, don’t you?”

  “You have no idea.” I grabbed the back of his neck and yanked him closer, shoving his mouth to my other breast.

  He sucked and bit and I was pretty sure he was leaving a few hickies. His free hand curled around my wrist and brought my hand to his crotch. I twisted out of his grip and caught his hand, pressing it to my pussy.

  “Finger me.”

  “Bossy.”

  “Do it.”

  My panties were shoved aside as his finger drove into me. I arched beneath him, bucking against his touch, riding his palm as I still held his arm.

  “Harder.”

  “Demanding little thing.”

  “Just do it.”

  He wedged another finger into my cunt and fucked them deep. “More?”

  “Yes. Faster.”

  “Christ.”

  His fingers pumped hard, and my eyes rolled back as he hit that magical nerve where heaven and earth met inside of a woman’s body. I screamed, trembling as my first climax rushed through me, bathing his fingers. We both were out of breath, but he was far from finished.