Sweet Keeper (Sweet Talkers Book 1)

by Thalia Sanchez

Stanley shifts on his seat next to me, passing his arm around my shoulders.

  “That’s because she is,” he answers. “I was born when my mom was seventeen.”

  My eyes widen.

  “Wow, that’s… Shit, really?”

  He laughs at my reaction.

  “That’s the most genuine reaction I’ve gotten from you,” Stan mentions. “But yeah, that’s why she’s so open-minded with the whole sex talk. Mom was a kid when she had a kid.”

  I can only imagine how difficult that must’ve been. My mother had James when she was in college, and it was hard enough. Thinking about what Stan’s mom had to go through to raise him makes me nauseous. She was two years younger than me. I still consider myself too young to even think about having someone in my life; a baby would be pure hell.

  Not to be dramatic or anything, but I’d rather die than get pregnant at this age.

  “That’s a tough life.”

  “I guess. But mom was a rockstar with me. I mean, I turned out pretty great, didn’t I?” Stan quips, adding a lighter tone to our talk, and winks at me.

  I smile.

  “You could’ve been better,” I lie, playfully.

  Stan rolls his eyes. “Oh, is that so?”

  There’s a trace of a warning on his voice as if he was telling me to take back my words before he decides to do something else. A week ago, I would’ve dropped it and changed the topic. Tonight? Tonight I feel reckless, the chaos in my chest wanting to wreak havoc while I still can. I want to provoke him, push his buttons to see where it leads us.

  Passing the tip of my tongue over my bottom lip, I lean closer to him, taking advantage of the half circle booth.

  “Hmm, you may have to prove me otherwise,” I dare him in a whisper so that the words only reach his ears.

  The restaurant is not full. There are more empty tables than occupied ones, but I don’t want anyone overhearing. Especially when I’m trying to test if he’s willing to do something about it.

  I want Stanley to turn this game upside down.

  Stanley inclines, his nose caressing my neck for a split second. It’s enough to send shivers through my spine, but I stay still, waiting. He’s only teasing the area.

  “Are you looking to get us into trouble?” Stan wonders.

  I gulp.

  “Are you?” I retort, making sure that I sound flirty and not a quivering mess.

  Stan smiles in the curve of my neck, and his lips meet the skin for a brief instant. The contact ignites the spark between us, turning it into a forest fire.

  “Only if we get caught,” Stanley mutters as he drops his other hand under the tablecloth, finding my thigh.

  Playful and teasing fingers caress along the parts of my legs that the dress doesn’t cover. A gasp gets stuck in my throat, along with the words that I was going to say. My brain forgets everything that I had in mind before this.

  Oh, my God. Are we doing this?

  I steal a glance at the place, trying to see if someone is paying attention to us. The last thing that I want is for someone to notice that Stan has his hand on me, touching me under the table in a very public place. Biting my tongue, I do my best to abstain from making any noises that want to escape my mouth.

  Once I make sure that no one is even looking at us, I turn to him.

  “You weren’t kidding about the dress,” I say, remembering his words.

  He shakes his head, and his lips find my ear.

  “I told you that I wasn’t the gentleman that you thought I was,” Stan whispers, and his voice is deep, descending a few decibels, causing my whole body to shiver in anticipation.

  I can tell that he’s enjoying this. His devilish smirk is promising no good. This kind of foreplay and the adrenaline of being caught, and I’m not scared by it. On the contrary, I’m ecstatic by this side of him.

  “I’m not convinced yet,” I provoke him, biting my lip.

  Stan pulls away as his green orbs focus on me. His gaze intensifies as a hand slides to my upper thigh, sneaking under the dress. Everything is spiraling, especially when his fingers get close to my panties. I hold back a whimper when the tip of his finger drags over the lace, the light pressure teasing me, but it’s more than enough to turn me into a mess.

  Heat goes to my cheeks, spreading all over my face. I don’t want him to stop. Biting my lip harder, I try to stay focused and not give in entirely to what he’s doing to me. Part of me still can’t believe that this is happening, and the other half is going crazy because it’s finally happening. Stanley puts aside the tension and his armor to give in to what we both want.

  Gently, I part my legs, allowing him to have better access, something that he thanks me by guiding his hand to my core. My extremities are trembling as he traces my slit through the lace of my panties and then focuses on drawing a slow lazy circle over my sensitive nub. My breasts feel heavy, craving attention that they won’t get.

  God, I wish we weren’t here.

  I don’t want dessert anymore nor any waiters approaching the table. What I do need is to feel his touch directly on my skin. The waves of pleasures, although small and soft, have me wanting more from him, the intensity of the moment having me almost on the edge of the seat. I’m hypersensitive to his contact, becoming pleasant torture that I can’t get enough of.

  “Stan...” My voice fades when he slides the fabric to the side, and his rougher skin grazes my clit. Inevitably, I buck my hips as I choke back a whimper.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  “Do you want me to stop?” Stan asks in a soft tone, almost as if he was testing me.

  Gulping, I shake my head.

  That’s the last thing that I want. God, I think my legs are trembling with just a touch from him. He knows what he’s doing and how to drive me insane. I’m overwhelmed with sensations.

  “I think I might hit you if you stop,” I mumble, my voice full of need.

  I’m sure that if I allow my mouth to open to pronounce more words, I’m going to end up moaning in the middle of a restaurant, and everyone will know what’s going on. The fear of getting caught turns me on even more.

  He laughs, clearly enjoying this.

  But I can’t let him win, so I lead a hand to his lap, sliding the tip of my fingers up to meet the bulge in his pants. He’s hard, almost as hot as I am. I’m glad to know that I’m not the only one suffering now.

  “You’re a little devil,” he groans when my hands start stroking him gently over the fabric.

  “Don’t start a game that you can’t finish.”

  Stan bites his lips, and the corners of his lips fight a grin.

  “Oh, but I want to finish it, Bree. I can’t wait to see you finish,” he says, but his fingers stop touching me, and I start to complain until I see our waiter walking over with our dessert. I force myself to smile, but I know that I won’t be able to talk. My red face is already an indicator that something is going on. “Thanks. Oh, while we eat, can you bring us the check?”

  The waiter walks away, and I allow myself to breathe, the heat present in my body. How am I supposed to eat when I just want to continue what we started? I’m wet. No, I’m soaking. My panties are fucking soaking. I don’t think that I’ve ever been this horny in my entire life.

  “Eat,” Stanley orders.

  “You can be bossy when you want to,” I mumble, rolling my eyes.

  My voice is hoarse, like a teenage boy going through puberty. My turned-on voice is probably the least attractive, but it’s his fault that he chose to turn me into a mess. I had the suspicion that he liked to do public things. However, it’s different to experience them. Not that I’m complaining, though.

  “You were the one who wanted dessert,” Stan reminds me and unfolds the spoon from the napkin to stick it in the cheesecake.

  Leading it to his mouth, Stanley lets his tongue taste the portion. He repeats the action of digging the spoon in the cheesecake, this time offering it to me. I accept because I’m weak for dessert and because I kn
ow that we’re not leaving until we finish it.

  The faster, the better.

  My friends decided to go out tonight if we wanted to use the apartment alone without it being awkward. We have enough time to get back there and finish what we started. I’m still on edge from the teasing, desperate to find some release.

  The dessert is gone quickly, but the waiter hasn’t come back with the check. My fingers curl around the hem of my dress, impatience striking me.

  “What’s the plan for when we get out of here?” I ask, slightly overwhelmed by the twirl of lust that has settled in my system. I’m suffocating in the weeks of tension. “Your place or mine?”

  Stanley’s lips curve in a smile.

  “Neither.”

  His answer leaves me perplexed. A thousand possibilities fly through my mind, making it impossible for me to focus on one. What does he mean by that?

  “What?”

  “I have other plans,” he announces calmly.

  How can he remain unaffected?

  “Plans,” I repeat.

  My mind is spiraling, trying to figure out what he means by that.

  “Yep.”

  “Stanley, what kind of plans?”

  If he dares to mention another fancy place, I’ll probably stand up and walk home.

  “Nothing expensive, I promise,” Stan reassures me, grabbing my hand to kiss it. “It’s just a safe place for me, and I want to share it with you.”

  My confused heart melts with his words. I honestly can’t mess up his plans when they carry this much meaning, but at the same time, I’m not capable of waiting that long. I’m aching, almost begging for his touch. If he doesn’t finish this for me, I will finish it myself, and that would be a pity.

  “Can I know where it is?” I question as curiosity mixes with my frustration.

  “At a bar.”

  “We’re not twenty-one,” I remind him.

  I have a fake ID, but that doesn’t mean that I will use it regularly. Tonight I feel sloppy, and I might get caught.

  “I never said we were going inside.” Stanley shrugs.

  It’s true, but do we have to do it today?

  Knowing that Stan made an effort to plan this night, I need to consider my options. I wish that I can say that I’m going to enjoy the next part of the night, but frustration still has a firm grip on me.

  Finally, I lean towards an option that benefits us both.

  “Okay.”

  Stanley seems surprised that I let the topic go so fast. His eyebrows go up as a wave of relief brushes his face. Little does he know that I’m far from letting this go, but I’m not going to talk about it while we still are in the restaurant.

  We split up the check—mostly because I insist—and we leave the place smiling. Once we’re at the parking lot, my seduction plan begins. Instead of walking to the passenger’s door, I stop by the backseat. Stealing a look at the place, I notice that it’s partially dark and empty, perfect for my risky, yet hot, plan.

  Stanley stops walking, observing me with intrigue as he waits for my next step.

  “Bree...” He goes quiet when my hands sneak under the dress, anchoring my fingers on my panties, sliding them down my legs.

  The fabric gets stuck on my boots, so I bow to get rid of it, keeping it safe in my fist. Staring directly into his green eyes, I offer them to him.

  “Fuck.” Stepping closer to me to close the distance between us, Stanley accepts my panties, biting his lip as he hides them in the pocket of his pants. “This was not the place that I had in mind for this.”

  I shrug because neither had I, but I don’t repulse the idea.

  “Nothing about us has been in the way we planned,” I retort, reaching for his hand. “Whatever you had in mind can be done later.”

  I guide his hand to the vertex between my legs, lifting the dress just enough to have the access he needs to touch me. A growl emerges from his throat, and his fingers explore the slick skin.

  My knees go weak. Stanley seems to notice it because he wraps an arm around my waist to keep me from falling. I tangle my fingers in his blond strands, maintaining the position even when my legs want to give in to the waves of pleasure. He’s only drawing soft circles around my clit, and I’m already breathless.

  A moan escapes my lips as I hide my face in his chest, blind with ecstasy.

  “Get in the car, Bree,” Stanley orders.

  I obey, hopping on the backseat, leaving enough space for him to sit too. The door is barely closed when I straddle his lap, my mouth searching for his vehemently, kissing him desperately. I’m ruled by the wildfire burning between us.

  Without breaking the kiss, Stanley’s hand returns to my needy pussy. This time he goes further, sliding one finger inside, making me whimper. It moves inside me ever so softly that my senses get drowned with the buzz of excitement.

  “A quickie to take the edge off, and we leave the rest for later?” I offer shakily.

  “Yes, please.”

  I arch a brow.

  “Begging already? We’re barely starting,” I joke, leaning to the side to find my bag and find a condom. Stanley removes his finger, inserting two instead, filling me and stealing my breath away. “Fucking hell.”

  Thanks to the position that I’m in, the angle is entirely different, and it feels tighter and intense when his fingers pump inside me in a slow, but steady rhythm. I moan loudly.

  “Everything okay?” he asks playfully, taking advantage that I’m speechless.

  It takes everything from me to return to my place, holding the condom in my hand. My fingers unbutton his pants, freeing his dick. He helps me lower the fabric enough to allow us to fuck without getting in the way or being too uncomfortable. We’re not going to take the risk of getting naked when we’re in a public place. The chances of getting caught are already high enough.

  I enjoy the view for a few seconds. I was right when I told the girls that it wasn’t small because it isn’t. His dick is thick and long, being definitely above average. I wrap my hand around him, and I realize that he’s fucking huge compared to my size. My fingers can barely touch. Holy shit. I’m tiny and delicate, and he’s a giant.

  I’m going to be so sore tomorrow.

  Stanley bites his lip. Leaning his head back in the seat as my hand moves up and down over his shaft, he curses. I stroke him again, absorbing the way he loses his mind. I abandon his cock for a second, opening the package of the condom, and roll it on.

  He pulls his fingers out, glistening from my wetness, and guides them to his mouth. Stanley licks the remains of my excitement. I get goosebumps when he groans as he savors me. It’s a small act, but it still pushes me to the edge. It’s dirty and erotic. Intense and sweet at the same time. A complete antithesis that I can’t comprehend, nor I want to. I don’t need to analyze every ounce of our chemistry.

  It’s us, complete opposites, but complementing each other in the best possible way.

  I grab his member, brushing his tip along my slit, getting us ready for this. I descend above him, the satisfying feeling sinking my bones. Stanley’s hands grab my ass as I get used to the sensation of him filling and stretching me. Our moans echo in the car, entirely torn by the overwhelming feeling. My mind blocks everything around us. Nothing else matters.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” Stanley mutters through clenched teeth. “How are you so tight?”

  Oh, my God.

  “I’m tiny, Stanley! What the hell were you expecting?” I snap.

  “Definitely not something that will put me to shame. Fuck,” he replies in a husky tone that makes me shiver.

  His face contracts with pleasure. I don’t think he’s ever been this attractive before. With half-open lips, a frown in his forehead, and his pupils dilated. Knowing that I’m the one who caused it makes me feel powerful.

  “Aw, poor baby. You don’t last long?” I coo, leaning to kiss him briefly.

  Stanley rolls his eyes.

  “Fuck you.”

 
I laugh, shaking my head.

  “Nah, I prefer to fuck you instead,” I bug him, biting his bottom lip. “C’mon, Stan. I’m waiting.”

  He closes his eyes for a couple of seconds and nods.

  “Good. I’m okay now.” On purpose, I clench my inner muscles around his shaft. He clings to my butt again as if it was the only thing keeping him in control. “Don’t do that again unless you’re fucking coming on my dick.”

  A snicker grazes my lips, and I kiss him, rolling my hips in circles, feeling him reaching parts of me that I didn’t remember that existed. One of Stanley’s hands abandons my ass and moves to my pussy, brushing his thumb against my clit.

  My head falls on his shoulder, moaning in his ear as I ride him in a fast and sloppy rhythm. If this moment were my jail, I’d gladly become a prisoner. I’m trapped in the pleasure, mesmerized by the way he fills me and pumps his hips, meeting mine. My impulsivity caused this instant, but I don’t regret it for a second.

  Stanley McKinley will never be something that I regret.

  “Fuck, babe,” he whispers in my ear.

  “I’m close,” I tell him, meeting his gaze. His eyes are on flames, consumed by the moment and the way that our bodies are trying to find release.

  “Yeah?”

  Stan grabs a handful of my hair, making me arch my back. His mouth is pressing wet kisses along the curve of my neck, and I can’t stop moaning and whimpering. He fucks me harder and faster; his thumb is circling my clit in quick circles. Without repressing it, I shatter in a thousand pieces; the orgasm hits me like a whip. My sight fogs, I tense around him, and a long moan abandons my lips as I succumb to the ecstasy. All of my thoughts stop, and the only thing that I can do is move my hips, even when I’m hypersensitive, and my body is trembling.

  The feeling possesses me.

  I want him to come.

  “Stan, do it,” I encourage him to take his pleasure, to take what he needs from my body to come apart.

  And he does.

  Stanley gives in to the electricity of the moment and groans as he absorbs his orgasm. I ride his release until he grabs my hips, stopping me altogether. He cups my face, kissing me tenderly.

  Cautiously, I let my forehead fall against his. Staring at him, I enjoy this intimate moment while we go back to reality. The only thing that can be heard in the car is the sound of our irregular breaths, trying to recover from what just happened.