Stuck-Up Big Shot: A Hero Club Novel

by Sierra Hill

  “Make a wish, Sutton,” my mom encourages, nodding at the lit candle that flickers with possibilities of wishes coming true. “Go on and blow it out.”

  I suck in a deep inhale, closing my eyes to gather my thoughts and rally my wish from the recesses of my mind.

  There’s no need for me to think too hard on what the wish will be because I already know what I want. And when my eyes pop open again, Miles pins me with his gaze from across the room, his lips curling up into a smile so warm I feel it in my soul.

  Just as I’m just about to exhale, Miles stands, leaving his group and begins moving with long, confident strides toward my table.

  The breath rushes out of me in a burst of air, and the candle is blown out, my friends and my mom clapping excitedly, extolling their birthday wishes for me. But all I care about is the fact that Miles is coming directly toward me.

  When he reaches the table, his smile gets wider, as everyone turns to look up at his tall, gorgeous form.

  Melodie grumbles, Sophia giggles, my mom says hello, and I stiffen in my seat, petrified that this is some sort of dream and that I’ll wake up at any moment.

  “Well, looky here. It seems someone is having a birthday party and I wasn’t invited.” He sticks out his perfect bottom lip in a pout but then smiles knowingly. “Happy birthday, Button.”

  And then as if it’s all happening in slow-motion, Miles bends down and places a chaste kiss on my cheek.

  He kissed me!

  I can feel the exact spot on my face where his lips touched me, and I lift my hand, lovingly grazing my fingertips over the spot.

  Everyone chatters and laughs, but the only thing in my focused orbit is Miles. He stands next to me, his broad body blocking everything else out around him. Miles is saying something, and I can see his lips move, but I feel like I’ve been turned into stone like we used to play in the game, Statue.

  “Honey, Miles asked you a question.” My mother’s voice jars me to attention, and I look up at Miles with blinking eyes.

  “Huh?”

  Teasing laughter rings through the air, and he ruffles my hair. Oh my God, let me die now.

  Miles crouches down to his heels, folding his arms over the table, elbows pointing out to the sides. I stare down at his arms and notice all the dark hair running across his forearms, how strong his knuckles are, and the scratch on his upper biceps, barely hidden by the cuff of his T-shirt.

  He’s so close to me that I can smell the Maraschino cherry on his breath and the sweet scent of whipped cream on his tongue. Once again, I feel oddly dizzy, the way Mel described it when she’d gotten drunk off her grandmother’s boxed wine last week.

  “I asked you what your plans are for your birthday today? Mel says you’ll come by the pool later, and that she’s sleeping over at your house tonight. Sounds like a fun day.”

  “Yeah,” I barely squeak out. “Sounds fun.”

  He chuckles again at how lame I am for repeating what he just said but seems to brush it off when Mel pipes in.

  “You should kick everyone out of the pool for her for a little bit and give her a special swim time.”

  My head snaps to Mel, and I glare at her. She just smiles as if she didn’t just set me up. She knows I hate being the center of attention. Even now, with Miles hovering over me, it makes me feel hot and itchy.

  Or maybe that’s just because it’s Miles.

  “No.”

  Miles cocks his head to the side and quirks an eyebrow. “Why not? Sounds like a great idea.”

  I can’t stop myself when I thrust my hand out, and it lands on his arm. “Please don’t, Miles. Just don’t, okay?”

  He seems undeterred by my plea and stands back up, glancing at his group of friends over his shoulder, who are getting ready to leave.

  “Listen, I gotta motor. Just wanted to wish you a happy birthday, Button. And I’ll catch you all later.”

  He ruffles my hair one last time before leaving the table. I lift a hand to my hair and rearrange the strands I spent an hour straightening in the first place.

  “Your brother is so cute, Melodie.” Sophia sighs in the way teen girls do—sappy and with a side of wistful longing.

  Mel turns and smacks her on the shoulder. “Eww. Gross. Don’t even go there. I love my brother, but he’s a player with a side of man whore.”

  My mom reacts in a mom-toned note of disgruntled reprimand, “Melodie.”

  Mel doesn’t seem to care. She simply shrugs her shoulder. “He is, Mrs. Fuller. He goes through girls like they are bags of Sour Patch candies. And if any of my friends ever thought about him like that, I couldn’t be friends with them any longer. It would be just too gross.”

  My heart deflates like a sagging birthday balloon.

  Not that I ever stood a chance with Miles in the first place—because he’s five years older than me—and because he obviously only sees me as a little girl. The one he calls Button.

  It looks like my birthday wish will never be granted.

  26

  Sutton

  Except for the hot make out session in the Uber, in which an urge and need so visceral and strong took over me I practically mauled Miles, he has been the perfect gentleman tonight.

  But that backseat episode played on repeat in my head throughout our date. And how hard he was for me had my panties wet the entire dinner.

  Miles took me to a sushi restaurant—which he’d asked me earlier if I liked, and I said it was my favorite—where we gorged on roll after roll of the most delicious goodness I’d ever tasted. As a poor college student, I rarely get to eat the good stuff. I normally stop by my local bodega where Sam, the grocer, carries a cheap line of pre-made rolls in his refrigerated section. But tonight’s feast was five-star phenomenal.

  Then we strolled hand-in-hand through the park, beneath a canopy of streetlights and stars and a softly lit backdrop, music spilling over us from musicians and buskers along the path. At one point, we stop by a guitarist, Miles pulling out a fifty-dollar-bill from his wallet, asking him to play my favorite song.

  I scrunch my nose in question. “How do you know my favorite song?”

  Miles smiles, giving me a knowing cocky grin. “I hear you singing it at the top of your lungs through the walls.”

  My mouth drops open in alarm. If he could hear me singing, what else could he hear?

  The guitarist plays the opening chords for “Treat You Better” by Shawn Mendes as Miles brings our clasped hands up to his chest, pulling me in close as we sway together to the slower version of the pop song.

  If the night hadn’t already been fantastic and the most memorable date of my life, the swoony moves that Miles has in him cap it off perfectly.

  As we dance together in the late summer evening, the sounds of the New York nightlife a distant buzz around us, my head and heart melt, as I remember my birthday wish from long before.

  “Can I tell you something?” I ask him timidly, avoiding his gaze by keeping the side of my face smashed up against the rhythm of this heart.

  “Of course. Hit me.”

  My heart pounds out of my chest. “On my thirteenth birthday, I wished for this.”

  His feet slow to the barest of movement, and he leans back to look down into my eyes. The midnight blue of his gaze is filled with genuine curiosity, along with a trace of humor.

  “You wished for a dance in Central Park to a Shawn Mendes tune?”

  I give him a look of annoyance. “No. I mean, I wished for you. For you to like me. To see me as someone other than the little Button you always saw me as. I wanted to be one of those girls you kissed back then.”

  His expression turns serious, and we stop moving altogether, even though the musician still plays the song.

  “Sutton, that’s adorable you thought of me like that. But I’m glad you weren’t one of those girls.” He lifts his hands, cupping my jaw in his warm palms. “Sadly, they meant nothing to me and most didn’t last longer than a week. I wasn’t a good guy back then.”


  He snorts with self-deprecating humor. “I don’t know if I’ve changed all that much, but I know that if we’d been closer in age, and we had hooked up then, I probably wouldn’t have treated you any better. I was a kid on a mission that didn’t include loving or being loved.”

  His thumb brushes over my cheek, barely a whisper. I crane my neck to look into his eyes.

  “In truth, Button, I’m glad this thing between us is happening now and not then. I’m ready to treat you right. The way you deserve. Because now I’m able to see how special you really are.”

  My knees go weak as he crashes his lips to mine, my hands threading through his hair, tugging him and begging him with my kisses to be closer.

  The music stops at some point during our kiss, and the busker clears his throat.

  “Do you want to hear another?” he asks, looking up from under the brim of his hat, a smirk etched across his mouth.

  Miles looks to him and then back at me, his own sly grin sending shivers skittering down my back.

  “Nah, man. I think we’ll call it a night.”

  The minute we get in the elevator and the doors close behind us, Miles is all over me. He slides his palms along my jawline and holds me there as he presses his lips to mine. It’s not quick or gentle. It’s feverish and an indicator of how things will go once we are in private.

  I want to get closer, to feel his body pressed against me—in the spot I need him most. Lifting my leg, I fold it over his hip, his hard shaft nudging at my entrance, as my panties flood with wetness.

  Miles groans at the contact and drops his hands to my ass. He lifts me up, carrying me out of the elevator and down the hall the moment the door opens.

  As we pass by my apartment door, I wonder if I should check in on Blackie first, but Miles’s index finger toys with the lace of my thong, and all thoughts of doggie-duty are postponed for the time being.

  Miles opens the front door with a set of keys that magically appeared and swings the door shut behind him with a kick of his heel. Then he spins us around, shoving my back up against the door, our mouths still fused together.

  “You want to know what my wish is, Button?” he asks huskily, his lips moving against mine.

  “What?”

  His fingers sneak underneath the edge of my panties, and he yanks them down, the sound of my gasp escaping my throat.

  “My wish is to find out how wet you are,” he confesses, jerking the panties off and over my heel as I kick them to the floor. “And find out how sweet your pussy tastes. And then find out how tight you are when you clench around my cock and how loud you get when I bring you to orgasm.”

  I make a noise of unintelligible gibberish, grinding my pelvis over his hard cock that’s now pressed against my bare sex. I speak against his lips. “I say let’s grant your wish.”

  My breasts heave and lift in anticipation, as Miles drops his hand between us and I choke out a sound as he slides a finger through my wet center, a slow and agonizing glide through my folds.

  “Ohh,” I keen, my head flopping forward into the crook of his neck as I hold on to stave off the need to rock.

  There is so much promise of sexual satisfaction engulfed in his deft fingers as they dance over my flesh, teasing me with searing heat until he finally—finally—pushes a finger inside, and I cry out.

  Our groans mix together in a symphony of sound, relief mingled momentarily until a deep well of need bubbles up for more.

  I rock my hips forward, eager for more friction against my clit. He adds a second finger inside me, and his thumb finding the swollen part of my sex, circling over it to launch sparks of pleasure up my spine.

  Miles speaks into my hair, biting at my earlobe. “Ah fuck, Button. I knew you’d be so wet for me.”

  His fingers piston inside me, as a swell of desire courses through my body, tightening and tensing along the way. I take fistfuls of his hair in my hands, squeezing and yanking hard every time the nerve-endings burst with sensation, and he grunts with mutual desire.

  Like riding a rollercoaster at the fair, I feel myself edging higher and higher, knowing the top is just within reach. Knowing that while the ride won’t last long, the high as I careen down off the top will be amazing and earth-shattering.

  “Yes, Miles. There. . . so close. I’m. . .”

  “That’s right, Button. Fuck my fingers. Come all over them.”

  The filth of his words, the image it conveys, has me spasming hotly, grinding down on his fingers as I soar off the top of that coaster, barreling down with a loud, throaty cry.

  Pleasure wreaks havoc over my now weakened state, and I sag heavily in Miles’s arms. I throw my limp arms over his shoulders and take slow, shallow breaths in and out of my lungs.

  “Miles, holy shit. I’ve never. . .that was. . .”

  He chuckles smugly. “Mmm-hmm. I know.”

  As if the world shifted on its axis, Miles swings us around, and he walks us back to his bedroom, which I first entered the night we kissed a few weeks earlier.

  The room is dark, save for a small desk lamp in the corner, and as he sets me down on my feet next to the end of his bed, reaching inside his nightstand for a condom, he confirms what I already think I know.

  “That was just a warm-up.”

  27

  Miles

  After grabbing the condom in preparation of our fucking, I take my time to undress her, with painstakingly slow and careful movements, much to my impatient dick’s dismay.

  While my throbbing cock screams from inside my pants, I twirl Sutton around, facing her in the opposite direction, my fingers deftly unzipping the back of her dress.

  “Did I mention how sexy you looked this evening?” I ask in a low voice, my lips skimming over the flesh of her neck and shoulders, thrilled to see the goosebumps have returned.

  Trailing a fingertip down her spine, I hit a roadblock at the lace of her bra clasp, and unhook it, the bra falling to the floor in a whoosh. Her dress, however, only peels down to just the flare of her hips. I drag my fingers over the terrain of her svelte curves, her skin a soft, buttery cream that I want to lick and mark and devour in every position.

  With a quick pull, the dress loosens and slips to the floor at her feet, exposing the masterpiece of Sutton’s backside. I have to count to ten and replay baseball highlights reel in my head to calm myself, so I avoid bending her over the bed and taking her hard and fast from behind.

  My cock roars to life, swelling painfully at this thought, pressing angrily against my zipper, straining for friction and release.

  With a gentle nudge of my hand against the middle of her back, I bend her forward. Her elbows prop her up on the mattress, her ass raised high in the air. It’s utter perfection.

  She whips her head over her shoulder, her wide eyes gleaming with excitement.

  “I need to examine and ponder what I’ll do with my little Button. All grown up now and ready to be fucked.”

  She exhales a gust of air from her lungs, followed by a sweet little moan as my palms roll over her perfect and supple ass cheeks. Digging my thumbs into the cushiony center, I peel her cheeks open as she sucks in a gasp. Drawing a line down her crease, I play with the sensitive ring as she squirms and writhes.

  “Have you ever been fucked back here, Button?”

  She jerks forward, alarm evident in her voice. “No, never!”

  I chuckle at her response, pulling her hips back to nestle my cock in the crease.

  “Relax, Button. I’m just asking. We’re not going to do that tonight. . . not yet anyway.”

  Oh, but what my devious mind has in store for her. I want her everywhere. My hands roam over the slope of her body, around her shoulders, and then sweep underneath to capture her breasts in my grasp.

  Sutton is fucking utter perfection. The weight of her tits in my hands is like holding small, ripe melons that make my mouth water.

  I swirl my fingers over the tight rosebuds, circling them and then pinching, eliciting a
long moan of pleasure. “Are your nipples sensitive?”

  She hums. “Mmm-hmm. Very.”

  “Good. I like that. Because I’m going to suck them, play with them, and bite them before the night is over.”

  I continue to plump her breasts, fingering the stiff peaks of her nipples, tweaking and caressing until she’s once again punching her hips back and grinding her ass against my erection.

  My hands fall from her breasts as I plant open-mouth kisses down her spine while I unbuckle and unzip my pants to free my cock. Dropping my slacks and briefs to the floor, I now stand naked from the waist down, my erection throbbing, desperate to be between Sutton’s legs. My thickening dick and sensitive sac want nothing more than to be inside her hot pussy.

  “Stand up but face the bed,” I demand, my voice thick with lust and gruff from desire.

  Sutton pushes off the bed with her hands, and even from the back, I can see how excited she is by the rise and fall of her shoulders and the quick intakes of breath.

  Stepping in, I mold my front to her back, looping my arms around her, my cock caught between us, pressed up in the crease of her ass. With one hand squeezing and toying with her breast, the other slinks down over her firm belly and into the juncture between her legs.

  Her body is so responsive as she arches into me as if shaped to fit exactly to my height and dimensions. I kiss a path down her jaw and neck, my hand gliding up the smooth chords of her neck so I can grip underneath her jawline, swiveling her mouth to mine.

  My tongue slips between her lips, the heat of her mouth a delicious fire when fused with mine. I slide my finger through her wet folds, her slickness coating my finger as I dip inside to feel her heat.

  “Do you want me to fuck you with my cock, Button? To make you come so hard while I slam into you from behind, all while I finger your clit until you’re too fevered with need to even stand up on your own?”

  She nods, lips parted but wordless. Pulling my finger from her pussy, I bring it to her mouth, drawing her slick heat over her lips and then slip it inside.