Call Me Sugar

by Lacee Hightower

  They’re practically breathing one another’s air, so into what the other is saying, and doing, that I think I could climax just by standing here a little longer and watching. Breathless and confused, but aroused, I brush a hand down the length of my thigh, 100 percent confident that I’m correct about what I think I’ve always suspected but shrugged off. What I’ve always known but didn’t want to know.

  Keith and Jason share way more than just a close friendship. They’re in love. Deeply.

  Dozens of emotions whirl through my head, through my chest, my heart, my sex. Yet, why does this epiphany, that’s really not an epiphany at all, have such a tremendous effect on me? Why do I feel the need to drop to the ground, fall into the fetal position, and cry until my tears dry up?

  Why is every muscle in my body shaking with jealousy?

  Why is my sex crackling with hunger and lust?

  Why do my nipples feel hard against my dress?

  Why do I want them both? Together? Separately? At the same time?

  Why do I want to watch them together?

  Do these lewd thoughts make me an awful person? A sex fiend? A pervert?

  With my pulse pummeling against my chest like a slanting hard rain hitting the windowpanes, I’m a commotion of misery, fear, anger, all mixed with desire. A whimper lodges in my throat, my hunger and need so deep, so potent, that I don’t allow myself to make a peep of a sound as I watch—guilt-ridden, turned on out of my mind, aching to touch myself—these two men who both mean the world to me, in a very warm, very intense, very intimate moment, while my thoughts flicker back to all those times together in the park … the stares … the subtle touches … the anger in Keith’s eyes … Morgan’s words.

  To all the hints right there in front of my face.

  Hurt and betrayal make me feel physically sick. Pain stabs at my chest at the thought of Keith never touching me again. Has it always been Jason?

  Had it been Jason in his thoughts when he took my virginity with no condom, coming inside me so hard and heavy that it seeped through my clothing and left the smell of sex lingering for hours?

  Was it Jason when his cock was between my lips only days ago?

  When his fingers were curling inside me? When his mouth feasted on me?

  Does Jason kneel for Keith?

  Does Jason bow his head?

  Had Jason refused me not once but twice because his heart beats for Keith?

  I feel cheated. I feel betrayed and misled. Jealousy gnaws at my insides with a cold sweat sweeping across my body. I release the breath held deep in my chest, and both men turn toward me simultaneously. Keith’s eyes flash with surprise, and he steps away from Jason like he’s a foe, while Jason’s hands urgently fall into the depths of his pants pockets.

  “Jen.” Keith breathes my name in an apologetic tone that tells me he knows I’m shocked by what I’ve just witnessed, a tone that rings remorseful that I can’t blink away from the beautiful, hard ridge of an erection underneath his dress slacks. Everything inside my belly trembles and quivers, with tears and dread and lust all building as I have image after vivid image of Jason’s hands wrapped around Keith’s torso, fondling his firm cock, rubbing at the weeping crest, and Keith’s eyes falling into the back of his head.

  And the two of them making passionate love.

  “Hey, Jen.” There’s a sorrowful look in Jason’s eyes, as if he’s trying to apologize, silently, for what I’ve just seen and what must be going through my mind.

  But no. Neither of them could possibly have any idea what’s playing through my head at the moment. Excitement is no longer a part of it, nor is any stagecoach, or any other piece of artwork. There’s nothing except chaos and confusion and these two men that mean more to me than anything or anyone else. I take a deep breath for courage, for coolness, while more powerful images rock my brain.

  Jason on his knees.

  Keith’s heavy cock between his lips.

  Jason’s erection hard, the tip seeping arousal.

  Hands everywhere. Reaching, touching, stroking.

  The two of them kissing, hugging, easing the hot ache they have for one another.

  The two of them fucking.

  “You look beautiful, sugar.” Keith takes a step forward, his eyes a glistening earthen brown and full of untold secrets.

  With a sob settling deep in my chest, I know that gaze. I’ve seen it. More than once. He’s aroused—painfully so. When I release another breath, it comes out uneven, more like a whimper than an exhale, and I want them to both know that what I’ve seen is okay and that I understand, even though it’s not okay and I don’t want to understand. I want to love Keith like I have since I was seventeen and like I will until the day I die. I want to tell Jason just how badly I wanted him those two days fourteen years ago and that I want him every bit as much today. I want to tell them that I’ve fantasized about the three of us in every scenario, every position, every way three bodies can be together. But I need to walk away, take a big long step backward, and let this sink in.

  Keith loves Jason. Jason loves Keith. They kiss. They suck each other. They fuck.

  I don’t know what to do. I can’t think straight, can’t look either of them in the eye, and that hurts. Backbiting jealousy feels like a hundred ice picks stabbing at my insides. Nothing seems logical, everything pulling me in opposite directions. I feel drawn in, but I also feel the need to pull back. But the thought of losing Keith or Jason makes me sick to my stomach.

  I can’t. I won’t. I’ll die if I do.

  I swallow the lump in my throat and step toward the small hallway leading to the main part of the museum. “Guess we need to unlock the door. Guests should be arriving soon. And please, don’t call me sugar again.”

  “Jen!” I ignore Keith and look toward Jason, who’s turned to leave us alone, but in nothing flat, Keith’s hands are tight against my shoulders and he’s spinning me around with his strong torso, preventing me from moving an inch. Anger, sorrow, lust, dread, and a whole long list of different expressions cover his face, and I can nearly swear there are tears in his eyes. I push to get away, but once again, I’m frozen as he’s looks at me with his doe-colored gaze. All I can do is think how much I love him. God, I just do. I can’t help myself. I want his heart. I want his babies. I want to wake up beside him and fall asleep with his breath against my neck. But I also can’t stop thinking of Jason and his lips, those ice-blue eyes, the sound in his throat when he’s aroused. Dear God, have I become some kind of sex monster? A horn dog?

  Am I just … losing my damned mind?

  Keith lifts my hand to his lips, where he offers a long, lingering, warm kiss that heats everything in my core and dampens everything between my legs even though I don’t want it to. “I’m sorry.” For a long minute we don’t move, don’t speak, and just stare. He then lowers his fingers over the swell of my breast and swollen nipple, and I’m instantly whimpering when I should be running and consumed by need when I should be ice cold.

  “Don’t stop touching me.” My response is quick, my breath building, and I’m realizing that no matter what happens between him and Jason that my feelings haven’t changed.

  “Are you turned on, sugar?” He gives me a tender tug and pulls me into his chest, and despite what’s just happened, I want him more than I ever have. “Is that sweet pussy wet underneath this lovely dress? Your face is beautifully flushed, and I’d bet my last dollar that your clit is just as swollen. Is my baby girl aroused by what she just witnessed?”

  “Keith. I …” My face flushes hot, and a whimpering “yes” falls from my lips that’s completely instantaneous, while an ache, hot and dire, settles deep in my sex as I crave more of Keith’s kisses, more of his demands, more of his Dominance.

  And more of what I just saw.

  Like someone powerful, someone important, someone courtly and dignified, he gazes down at me with a look of relentless tenacity, one that says he will still take me, control me, and fuck me until I’m drained a
nd boneless. He reaches underneath my dress and pinches the highest part of my inner thigh. Wet arousal soars through my core and leaves a soaked urgency in my panties. I’m trembling from the inside out, my breath heavy, my body aching. I want to kneel, rest my head on Keith’s feet and ask him what he needs, what he wants. I want to bow, surrender, and obey.

  I want to watch the two of them together.

  I want them both inside my body.

  Keith tips my neck with the pads of his fingertips and his soul-searching eyes glued to mine. “Tell me what you need. Tell me what you want, Jen. If you choose to say fuck it all and walk away from me, this, us, I’ll completely understand, move you anywhere you desire, and make damned sure you never hurt for money. But if you’re willing, I’ll leave no stone unturned. I’ll move mountains to keep you happy and give you everything you want and deserve. It’s your decision. Your—”

  Before I can give in to the red alerts flashing through my mind, my arms are circling his waist, my body and my heart’s needs overlooking my brain. It’s still Keith. Still Jason. Still us. And us is all I want.

  “Yes! Yes to this. Yes to you, to us. All three of us.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Jen

  Thirty minutes into the Grand Opening, and the place is packed. I’ve already scheduled a guided tour with lunch provided out back for the fifth-grade class in the fall, and, thanks to Morgan and her artsy-craftsy abilities, she and I are planning on hosting a “Bandana It” craft day the second week in September. Nearly half the shirts, coffee mugs, pens, and stationary sets are all gone, and I’ve sold every Blazin Roxx handbag in the gift shop, along with two pairs of boots, which leaves us with a nice little profit.

  And just as I was told, the two-headed calf is most definitely our biggest hit. Go figure.

  Emotions well up inside me as I look up and see Keith. He looks happy, totally inside his comfort zone, shaking hands, visiting, handing out brochures, and doing what he does best—talking about livestock, how much rain we’ve had, the oil industry, and how it’s changed Springhill. People cling to Keith like static to clothes. Friendliness and neighborliness come easy for him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Since we were teens, he always said that today was simply a given and tomorrows were all just another day that if we were lucky, we’d wake up to.

  Optimism and influence bleed from Keith.

  Jason shares a lot of similarities with Keith. That same free-spirit kind of personality, never meeting a stranger, going with his own flow, and happy with who he is. He also has that Don-Juan thing going on with a million-dollar smile that could brighten up the dullest party and charisma so deeply embedded in his face that he could charm the skin off a rattlesnake. Jason Lee has always radiated great lover, seduction, and sex, leaving the girls in high school smitten and love-struck, even though he rarely dated. I’ve only seen him two, maybe three times the entire evening. In both instances, he’s had his charm cranked up to full speed with a woman at his side—tall, curvy, brunette, beautiful—and avoided looking my direction.

  Does Jason fuck women, or are instances like tonight just a ploy to keep the small-town gossip to a minimum?

  Days ago, I was confident he did fuck women.

  An hour ago, my confidence transformed into uncertainty.

  Will he take the pretty brunette home with him tonight?

  Will Keith mind if he does?

  Or will Jason be at Ryker Ranch when the sun goes down? And when it rises again?

  Stop it, Jen. My God, you’ve got a job to do.

  Just after I’ve reached underneath the counter to retrieve the last of the t-shirts in size small and medium, I look up and see Keith’s eyes on me while he talks to a large gentleman wearing a black Stetson that absolutely has to weigh twenty pounds.

  “Look at your phone,” he mouths while looking at me in such a way that it makes my breath heavy. He returns to the gentleman he’s involved in a conversation with and doesn’t turn my direction again, but I can almost feel power, demand, and sex radiating from his body.

  When the crowd dies down to ten, I want you to slip out the back door and drive straight to the ranch. Once you’re inside the house, you can use my bathroom in any way you see fit. Shower, if you’d like. Soak in the tub. Then I want you naked, on my bed, on your knees, head bowed and facing the bedroom door. I expect you to be in this position until I’ve walked through the door and given you further instruction.

  “Holy Shit.” Heat shoots through every inch of me and tightens my nipples and sex.

  With my phone still in my palm, which has become warm and shaky, I swallow the lump in my throat and lift my eyes. The man with the colossal cowboy hat is gone and both Keith’s and Jason’s gazes are on me, both crackling with hunger, both blazing with a dark predatory glow, both their expressions beaming with strength, certainty, and a summons for sex. Yet, the tiny voice in my head stirs back to life and murmurs more warnings, more alarm and caution, and the obvious writing on the wall.

  They’re in love … with each other. Deeply in love. How could I ever be anything besides a third wheel?

  They turn and walk off together, and Jason brushes his hand quickly, but purposely, down the length of Keith’s arm. The small but sensual move is beautiful, utterly seductive, and an outright erotic invitation that has envy powering through my chest.

  And a wet pulse spiraling through my sex.

  Fuck if that’s not hot.

  My breath escapes me in a rush, and after two long deep breaths, I sort through the last of the shirts while making a quick note to order extra small and medium sizes, and all the while, my mind is stirring with images of them naked, kissing, pupils dilated, intoxicating male pheromones, fucking each other’s mouths, each other’s ass. Being no stranger to fetish clubs, I’ve seen men together, been turned on as fuck watching them spray cum down each other’s throats, but for years, I’ve held a dark, hidden fantasy to see way more than kissing, playing, and sucking cock. I want to watch two men swell with need and do everything two men can do.

  Then I want them both—at the same time.

  With my mind wandering and everything burning hot between my legs, I have no idea how long it’s been this way when I look up and see that the museum has cleared out, with only a handful of people remaining.

  I’m no angel. I’ve scened with good Doms, inexperienced Doms, and even sadists. But as I walk through the back door of the museum and head to my Jeep, I truly think this is the first time I’ve ever been this scared, this unsure, and this hesitant over a fantasy that’s likely becoming a reality, and one that could possibly leave me shattered. My heart is seconds from exploding straight through my chest, the need between my legs urgent and achy. I want Keith more than I’ve ever wanted anything before. And it’s way beyond simple lust. It’s need—every inch, every cell, every breath—torturous, heart-rending, urgent need.

  But it’s not only Keith whose scent I long to have all over me, whose hands and lips I want touching and teasing and plunging as they take pleasure from my body. It’s also Jason.

  I want them both.

  ****

  Keith’s bedroom is cold, agonizingly so. Shivering. Anxious. Vulnerable. Eager. I’m all of these things as I wait on my knees, my head bowed, my hands resting on my thighs, my body facing the bedroom door. Thirty, maybe forty minutes have passed. My neck aches, my knees throb, my blood is ice.

  I’ve never been so aroused in my life.

  With my stomach already in tight knots and a long slew of vivid images and different scenarios racing through my mind, I shift when I feel the tips of my fingers penetrating the skin on my thighs.

  Despite the streak of fear inside me and the discomfort that I’m enduring, I’m confident that this is what I want, what I need, what my body has ached for since the first week back in Springhill. My fingers flex, I close my eyes, and just let my mind wander back to the days with swings going so high in the air that the poles lift from the ground … a
merry-go-round spinning so fast that my belly rumbles … running from bees and laughing so hard that I’m choking … my daddy’s awful jokes … my mother and brother arguing over who drank all the milk.

  Genuine certifiable panic rattles my body when, at last, I come back to the present and the sound of heels against the wooden floor. First, I see the brown leather of Keith’s dress shoes then the shiny black oxfords of Jason. Knees weak, body trembling like leaves on a tree, I may as well be in a dark room full of spiders, snakes, and scorpions.

  Keith tips my chin up. “Look at me.”

  With everything in my core tightening at the harsh intonation in his voice, I lift my head and see nothing but heated need, lust, the sin of pride glistening in his eyes, and a body powerful and oozing with maleness. His lips press against mine, and they taste like passion and sensuality. He kisses me with deep strokes of his tongue that make me yearn for the same thing between my thighs, while also making me feel like he needs me just as badly as I do him. He moans, which I feel absolutely everywhere, then pulls his lips from mine and looks at me with those dark brown eyes.

  He traces a finger along my bottom lip, his touch lifting the fine hairs on my nape. “Do you trust me, sugar?”

  Sharp memories impede my thoughts, thoughts of him asking that same question over a decade before. Thoughts that bring back a rush of bad memories yet, in this moment, only make me think of tenderness and sensuality and sexuality.

  “I do,” I manage to say, then glance for a brief second at Jason and his almost sickeningly blue eyes, which makes me tremble even more than I already am. I feel drawn to him, unfathomably so, drawn in ways that make me think of crude, indecent, down-and-dirty hard fucking. But with bells, whistles, alarms, and sirens suddenly flashing through my head, the one question that I can’t shake from my mind falls spontaneously from my lips.