Sugar on the Edge

by Sawyer Bennett

Page 6

  “You girls are rotten. I’ll see you later,” Savannah calls out to the women, then she turns with a huge smile on her face and a chuckle pouring over those generous lips as she walks through the door, letting it close softly behind her.

  She doesn’t see me, but rather makes a beeline straight to the bathroom facilities to the left of where I’m sitting.

  Interesting… looks like sweet Savannah is having a fun night out with friends. She didn’t seem to be the type to do that. Rather, I sort of imagined her sitting at home reading a book with an old cat on her lap or something. At least, that’s the way I wrote her character in my novel, and I’m usually a pretty good judge of character.

  “Want to buy me another drink?”

  Turning to my right, I smile at the woman standing next to me. Can’t remember her name for shit, but she introduced herself to me a little bit ago and I bought her a shot of tequila. I don’t know if it’s the scotch working some magic but she’s pretty f**king hot. Long, blond hair, a magnificent set of tits, and a slammin’ ass that would look fantastic while I f**ked her from behind.

  “Sure,” I tell her with a smile, waving my hand to catch Brody’s attention. I point at the woman and call out, “Shot of Patrón Silver. ”

  Can’t remember the woman’s name, but I can sure remember what she’s drinking.

  She takes her fingertip and runs it down my forearm as it rests against the bar. “So, leaving any time soon?”

  “Probably after another drink or so,” I tell her, my eyes straying down to the creamy swells of her br**sts, which are plumped out over the top of some type of black, corset-like top she’s wearing.

  “Want some company?” she asks coyly, but her eyes pin me with direct confidence.

  My smile becomes calculated, because it’s clear what she’s asking. “I’d love some. Want to give me a ride home?”

  “I’d like nothing better,” she says as she leans her face in toward me, nipping my ear with her teeth. “Come find me when you’re ready. ”

  Fuck yeah, game on.

  Brody pushes the shot of tequila with a lime wedge on the rim of the glass toward the woman. She takes it, gives me a wink, and walks back over to the group of friends she had been hanging with.

  Brody helps himself to another twenty laying before me for the cost of the tequila shot. “Keep the change,” I say as an afterthought.

  He says, “Thanks. ”

  No biggie. I’m feeling super generous tonight, because looks like I’m about to get laid for the first time since I became a temporary U. S. resident.

  “Can you call me a cab, Brody?” I hear from my left, and I don’t have to turn in my seat to recognize that voice. But when I do, Savannah is standing at the end of the bar, leaning casually against the swinging service door.

  “Sure,” he calls back to her, and I watch as he picks up a phone beside the register to dial. When he hangs up, he says, “Be about ten minutes. Want anything?”

  “Bottle of water,” she replies.

  I stare at her, waiting for her to notice me. But she keeps her eyes pinned on Brody while he reaches down into a cooler and pulls out a bottle of water, twisting the cap off and setting it down before her. She tries to hand him a five-dollar bill but he turns away. “It’s on me. ”

  “Quit being an ass, Brody, and stop buying me stuff. ”

  “You’re cute when you’re angry,” is all he says as he walks away from her.

  Savannah huffs but shoves the money back in her purse, keeping her gaze on Brody with a wistful sort of look in her eyes.

  Understanding dawns on me. She has a thing for the bartender. Now isn’t that just f**king sweet as can be? And this little exchange I just witnessed has only confirmed my initial impression of Savannah. Sure, she may be out at a bar late on a Friday night to have some fun with friends, but she’s still the insecure, withdrawn, and ‘too shy to make a move on a dude’ woman that I had originally taken her for. A total pushover in my opinion.

  Whether she feels the weight of my stare or she knew I was sitting there the entire time, Savannah’s gaze slides over to me. The minute we make eye contact, her eyes dart back behind the bar, seeking to look anywhere but at me.

  I’ll probably later blame it on the liquor swirling in my blood, but I suddenly feel the need to see how Savannah reacts to an unkind world. She is, after all, my muse, and I consider this more research than anything.

  “Hello, Savannah,” I say, loud enough that I know she hears me.

  Turning back to me, she offers a small smile and says, “Hello. ”

  Cutting my eyes briefly over to Brody, who is chatting with a customer at the other end of the bar, a rag thrown casually over his right shoulder, I nod my head toward him. “Boyfriend?”

  “No,” she says quickly, shaking her head with a blush.

  “Lover?”

  “God, no,” she squeaks out. “Just a friend. ”

  Scooting my barstool over closer to where she’s standing, I lean toward her and ask, “Want him to be your lover?”

  “What?”

  “Lover,” I affirm with a low voice. “Someone who will f**k you sweetly every night and whisper sweet nothings in your ear while he pumps away in between your legs. ”

  Savannah rears backward from me, face flaming red and indignation swimming in her eyes that I’d talk so crudely to her. I can’t help the grin that comes to my mouth because she reacted exactly as I figured. In fact, I need to memorize that look on her face right now because it’s exactly how her character should look when she first gets propositioned for a trick. All affronted and indignant, because it’s beyond the scope of the narrow walls within which she lives.

  Taking a sip of Oban, I watch and wait to see what she’ll do. Running from the bar in tears is my first bet, and I’ve probably just lost my housecleaner, but I just couldn’t f**king help myself.

  What I don’t expect is the tiny flare of heat that enters her eyes, and quickly transforms into anger. Before I can even set my glass back down on the counter, Savannah takes two steps toward me and leans in close. “Brody is a dear friend of mine. He’s engaged and happily in love with another dear friend, and I’m happy for him being in love with Alyssa. You think you know something about me, but you don’t know shit, Mr. Cooke. And at the risk of losing my job with you, go f**k yourself. ”

  Now I’m the one that rears backward from the venom in her voice and the absolutely unexpected violence of her convictions. I open my mouth to say something… what, I don’t know, but snap it shut when she whirls away from me and stalks from the bar.

  “What the f**k did you just say to her, ass**le?” Brody asks as he slams his hand down on the bar in anger, right in front of me.

  Turning my head slowly, I look at him… eyes flamed in anger, his jaw muscles ticking because his teeth are clenched hard.

  Picking up my glass of Oban, I shoot the rest of the liquor back in one swallow. When I set it back down, I pick up the rest of my money on the bar, leaving a last twenty-dollar tip behind.

  “Friend of yours, I take it?” I nod toward the door that Savannah just slammed through.

  “A very good friend,” he snarls as he waits for me to enlighten him on our conversation. He can keep waiting for all I care.

  “Well, cheers, mate. I’m off,” I tell him with a smirk, so he knows I have no intention of addressing his concerns. He glares at me as he swipes the twenty-dollar tip I left him and stuffs it in the jar. After tucking my money in my wallet, I walk over to the blonde, who watches me with hungry eyes as I approach. She licks her lips, and I’m betting they’ll be wrapped around my c**k before the end of the night.

  I forget all about Savannah Shepherd and her tender sensibilities.

  My orgasm is just lukewarm as I watch the blonde head bobbing up and down over my cock. I’m almost dispassionate about the whole event as I unload down her throat, my balls slightly
tingling from the effort. I figure maybe because it’s the second orgasm I’ve had with this chick in the last hour, and I am pretty f**king drunk, but if I’m honest about it… the first orgasm wasn’t all that great either.

  The blonde from the bar with the fabulous tits did indeed give me a ride home. I f**ked her the first time standing up against my front door, on my front porch, thankful for the two hundred yards of privacy separating me from the neighbors to either side. Then I invited her in and we cracked open a new bottle of scotch, courtesy of a quick stop at the all-night liquor store. After a few drinks, and ten minutes of me having to listen to her prattle on about how sexy my British accent is, the best way I figured to get her to shut up was to push her face down onto my lap and have her blow me. Yup, with her mouth full of my cock, I enjoyed the blessed silence and the fumbling of her tongue up and down my shaft, resulting in an orgasm that ranked just above not having an orgasm at all, and right below the way it felt to blow my load after a wet dream when I was thirteen.

  Still having no clue what her name is, I push the blonde away from my dick and reach for the bottle of scotch, tipping it back so I can suck it straight from the bottle. I hand it to her, but she shakes her head in the negative.

  “I got to get going, baby. Told my babysitter I’d be home by two. ” She stands from floor of my living room and wipes the corners of her mouth with her fingertips.

  I stare at her hard. “You have children?”

  “Two,” she says with a grimace. “Run me f**king ragged all the time. Half the time, I want to pack them up and send them to live in Virginia with their daddy. They’re so draining on me. ”

  Her words make fire swim in my stomach and fury rip through my veins. While still holding the bottle, I lift my index finger and point it at her. My voice is low and menacing. “You should cherish your kids. ”

  She’s clearly too drunk to comprehend the warning in my voice, because she snorts over my comment as she bends over to pick her purse up from the floor. “Those brats haven’t done a damn thing for me other than give me stretch marks and migraine headaches. If I knew then what I know now, I’d probably have insisted their father raise them. ”

  Setting the liquor bottle on the table to my right, I stand from the couch. She gives me a heated look, probably thinking I’m going to give her a passionate kiss, or maybe drop to my knees and return the oral orgasm. Instead, I grab her roughly by the arm and push her through my living room, right through the kitchen and to the front door, where I open it and push her out onto the porch.

  “Time for you to go,” I tell her and start to close the door.

  “Wait,” she exclaims in surprise, and her hands shoot out to stop me from shutting her out. “I mean… what the f**k is all that about?”

  My upper lip curls in disdain and while I’m pretty f**king drunk, my words come out clearer than ever. “You don’t deserve to be a mother. No one should talk about their kids that way. Now get off my property, you f**king bitch. ”

  Her hand drops from the door in surprise over my words, and I slam the door in her face.

  6

  I walk through Gavin’s house, surveying the damage that has been done since I was here last Thursday and realize, without a doubt, that this guy is a certifiable slob. The kitchen is a disaster… the sink full of dirty dishes, the garbage can overflowing, and a jar of mayonnaise that was left out on the counter for God knows how long, because it now has a green layer of fuzz across the top when I open it up to inspect it.

  His bedroom is no better. He apparently doesn’t know how to put his discarded clothes in the hamper as they are scattered all over the floor. The sheets and lightweight comforter on his bed are twisted around one another and kicked almost all the way onto the floor. The man must not sleep very well.