by Adriana Law
It’s not pretty.
One of the Sawyers friends plops down beside me. “So you live with ugly over there?” He gestures across the room to where Sawyer is sprawled out in a cocky-sort-of-way in a leather recliner. My roommate looks about as bored as I am but then again Ellie’s bony rear end is balanced on one his legs, so he’s obviously not that bored. Occasionally she giggles and whispers something privately in his ear that he happily listens to.
Seeing Ellie touch Sawyer so intimately awakens some possessive part of me.
My heart races and my palms sweat.
It occurs to me that I must want my very own wind-up Ken doll.
“It’s none of your business,” Sawyer answers the guy for me.
“By the way, I’m Jason.” The guy holds a hand out for me to shake. When I slip my hand in his, he kisses my knuckles. “You are gorgeous. Anybody ever told you that?”
Jason is muscular. A little too stocky to be my type. His brown hair is baby fine and thinning making him look like an oversized toddler that hasn’t grown big-boy hair yet.
A pillow hits Jason’s head. Hard. Sawyer shouts over, “Ever thought she doesn’t want your ugly-ass pawing all over her.”
“I’m not pawing. And I’m not ugly.”
“You are pawing,” Sawyer says before taking a swallow from his beer.
“AS I was saying,” Jason continues. “What’s your name?”
“Don’t do it,” Sawyer tells me. “Once you get him started…he’ll never leave you alone.”
I ignore Sawyer. “Starr,” I tell Jason.
“How long do you plan on staying with Sawyer?”
Sawyer answers, “As long as she wants to.”
“You know…” I direct in Sawyer’s direction, “…I can speak for myself.”
Sawyer makes some smartass growling noise and then laughs at something Ellie says in his ear. I completely overlook the two of them. I have no plans to flirt with Jason, but there is nothing wrong with me being somewhat sociable. I need a distraction. So I am nice to Jason. I answer his questions. Occasionally laugh because he is funny, but that is it. No touching. No leaning. No trying to get a rise out of Sawyer. I’m thankful for the several minutes that easily pass without me noticing what’s going on across the room. Eventually, I glance in Sawyers direction to find him glaring at me.
My stomach drops at the look in his eyes.
Ellie keeps talking.
I doubt Sawyer could repeat a single word she’s said.
Very slowly, and deliberately, he makes a show of loosening the tie and sliding it off from around his neck. He undoes the top buttons of his shirt. The grin he flashes my way whenever my face flames with anger, is smug.
“Excuse me,” I tell Jason. “I’m suddenly thirsty.” I rise. Turn toward the kitchen.
“Holdup, I’ll go get you a beer,” Jason offers.
I gesture for him to not get up. “It’s okay. I think I’m going to see if there is something other than beer.”
I poke around in the kitchen; finding can soda in the refrigerator. I pop the top on one.
“Who’s ready for their steak,” Samuel Bentley says setting a plate in the center of the dining room table. There’s a platter of tinfoil wrapped potatoes, alongside every topping you could want. A beige bowl filled with salad.
Ellie tugs on Sawyer’s hand encouraging him up out of their leather recliner. He gives her a smile that causes my chest to tighten with jealousy. Ellie follows closely behind Sawyer while carrying on a conversation with a couple other guest trailing them.
I decide to benefit from her distraction.
As soon as Sawyer chooses his chair, I quickly claim the one next to him before she can plant her pretty ass in it. Ellie looks like a put-cat, having no choice but to go around to the other side of the table.
“That was rude,” Sawyer says low, to me only.
I fight hard not to smile. It was rude. Ellie had appeared especially peeved.
“Don’t expect me to apologize,” I tell him.
He chuckles. “I wouldn’t.”
“Good.” I hold my plate and Sawyer transfers a steak from the platter to it. Ellie watches him closely, like she has already staked her claim. “Butter,” he asks me nodding at the steaming potato I split open.
“Please.” I glare across the table sending Ellie a clear signal that I don’t like her. Just when I think I have won, Sawyer continues to flirt with her across the table. I’m almost tempted to bow out and let her have him until his father explains to Ellie that I stole her seat because my “panties are in a wad”. He is a rude and crude man who has done nothing but put me down. I don’t care what him or any of these people think of me.
Discreetly, I slip my right hand under the table and lay it on the inside of Sawyer’s thigh. Out of my peripheral vision I catch the sudden widening of his brown eyes. My hand slowly works its way up his leg until it finds what it is looking for. I rub, slow and methodically all the while holding an innocent smile for the others.
Sawyer casually takes a swallow from his beer as if his cock isn’t hardening underneath my palm. I continue to stroke his ever-growing length. He sure as hell doesn’t make me stop. I started this as payback for his flirting, but now, it turns me on; I’m pleasantly surprised how hard I can get him with little effort.
I cut my eyes in his direction. My gaze slides over where his arms are resting on the table top, on either side of his plate. The shape of his jawline. The sweep of his dark lashes as he avoids eye contact with everyone at the table, especially me. His strong and defined forearms are revealed by the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt. The size of his dick under my hand. Hell no, Ellie can’t have him.
“It’s big,” I say loud enough for everyone at the table to hear. Forks pause mid-air. Mouths stop chewing. They all assume I’m referring to the steak laid across my plate. I add, “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to fit it all in my mouth.”
Sawyer chokes on the swallow of beer he just took. Coughs, covering his mouth with a fist.
His father speaks up. Talks directly to me. “That’s nice. Do you think you can at least refrain from sharing you lovely, uneducated nonsenses long enough for us to enjoy our meal?”
Ellie clears her throat, fighting off a snicker.
I remove the hand from Sawyers leg feeling about… yay high.
But then Sawyer reaches for that hand and threads our fingers, laying our joined hands on the table top where everyone can see them. He stares directly at his father and pointedly tells him, “YOU ARE AN ASSHOLE.”
Sawyer helps me to my feet. I watch in amazement as he takes one last swallow of his beer. “You are going to have to enjoy your Goddamn meal without me,” he says to his father.
Sawyer lets me drive his Jeep home since he’s been drinking.
We don’t discuss it.
I don’t try to bring it up.
I don’t get it.
Why would he do that?
Why would he take up for me? Confront his father? My head is so messed up; I don’t know what to think or how to feel anymore. I glance sideways at where Sawyer’s lazy posture takes up the passenger seat. Yes. I do. Friendship or not, I want to try. But does he?
I shift gears.
Or have I already ruined it. I keep flicking looks at his side profile as he stares out the dark window. He hasn’t spoken a word to me. That makes me edgy. I can read most men, knowing what they want, but with Sawyer…I’m walking into it blind.
He catches me staring, and I quickly avert my attention back on the pavement. There is tension in the air between us. I’m not sure if he is pissed that I ruined the night, or grateful.
If I took a gamble, I would guess tonight was the first time he’s ever pulled a Sterling and stood up to his snooty father.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Climax
Upstairs, I deliberately unlock the door.
I’m afraid to turn around, not knowing what I will find. Once inside I toss the
keys onto the bar.
City Slicker bumps my leg, excited that we are home. I stoop and scrub the Saint’s neck, still avoiding lifting my gaze to Sawyers. When I stand back up and shut the door, I press my forehead to the cold steel, muttering out an “I’m sorry.”
Sawyer muscular arm snakes around my waist, the palm of his hand flat against my stomach forcing my backside tight against him.
I gasp surprised at his boldness and strength, strength he will never use to hurt me. His breath is hot on my ear, his voice low and rough, “What was that about…back at my father’s house?” His nose brushes my ear. “Are you messing with me?”
I give him an honest answer. “I didn’t like her touching you.”
“I didn’t like her touching me.”
“That’s not how it looked to me.” I swallow hard, leaning back into him. “You seemed to be enjoying it.”
“So, you know what is inside my head now?” He gently sweeps the hair off my shoulder exposing the side of my neck. “If that’s the case then you must already know I think dirty thoughts about you all the time?”
My throat goes dry. “Really?”
“Oh yeah. Thoughts that involve my bed and you naked in it.”
“Sawyer,” I rasp out. “Are sure you want to do this?”
“Real dirty thoughts. Mya.” His teeth lightly scrape skin. His wet lips follow the same slow path. I shut my eyes and tilt my head to the side allowing him to do whatever he wants. “What do you want?” he asks, his voice hoarse.
No man has ever asked me that: what do you want.
I admit it out loud for the first time. “This. You. I want you.”
“Are you sure about that?” Sawyer asks. “Because with you…I can never tell.”
I turn in his arms so that I am facing him. “Yes. I am sure about that. One hundred percent sure.” I direct him toward the sofa not ready for the bed yet, afraid once we set that precedence then he will expect sex every time we crawl into that bed to go to sleep. I’m not ready for that much of a commitment.
But I do want him.
Just this one time…I want him.
His mouth twitches and I get the impressions he thinks my being in charge is funny. He won’t be so amused in minute. By the sofa, I push him down to a sitting position.
His dark eyes have yet to leave mine. I see the desire hidden there. He lets me lead the way. That’s okay. I know from experience how to satisfy a man, and I want to use those skills to satisfy Sawyer.
Kneeling between his legs I reach for his belt buckle and start to undo it.
He puts a hand over mine stopping me. “I don’t have a condom,” he says in a thick voice.
I give him a look. “Oh really. I don’t believe you.”
“It wasn’t a top priority,” he says. “Work was a top priority. The Academy was a top priority. Getting ahead. Winning....” And never trusting or depending on another soul ever again—he doesn’t have to say it. I get it.
“And now?” I ask.
His answer comes from the back of his throat; a thick sound as I rub him through his jeans. “Well,” I say, “I usually carry condoms with me. In case some guys decide to suddenly take what they want…at least I’ll be able to offer protection.”
“That’s sad,” he says.
I blow it off as if it’s nothing, telling him, “You just happened to catch me at a time when I’m not feeling threatened. It’s okay though. We don’t need a condom.” I smile seductively, moving his hand so I can get back to undoing his buckle.
I meant we don’t need a condom because my intention is only to give him head. I want to push Saw out of the nice guy zone and make his vision blur from the things I know I can do to him.
But Sawyer has other ideas and quickly turns the table where he is the one in charge. He grabs both my wrist and leans forward his mouth seizing mine. I expect rough but what I get is a gentle assault on my entire senses.
Slowly his tongue traces the seam of my mouth, his teeth catching my bottom lip. His mouth leisurely explores mine. When I gasp, his tongue easily slides in. He still tastes like Budweiser from the cookout. Every cell in my body awakens as he fully kisses me like no man ever has. I moan in approval and then he is sitting back, his hands on my wrist guiding me so that I am straddling his lap.
I feel bare, the crotch of my panties rubbing over the fabric of his jeans.
As we kiss, his hands release my wrist and settle on my ass that he pulls forward, rocking my core against his erection. He makes some primitive animalistic sound in the back of his throat. My hands work their way up, my fingers tangling in the misbehaving hair that flips out near his ears. His mouth tears away from mine going to my throat. I work over his erection, sighing dreamily at the hardness of it causing friction against me.
I am the one with the blurred vision.
I can’t see straight as my cheek brushes against his rough jawline. We move in tempo, together, both of us being pushed and pushed to a line, once we cross, there will be no turning back.
I assume he took my “we don’t need a condom” as a green light that I am officially STD free and that all my test came back negative, which is true. They did. Still. If I were a guy, I wouldn’t go anywhere near me without a sturdy ass condom.
But that’s Sawyer. Never once has he ever treated me as someone to shy away from. He accepts me. Flaws and all. With these thoughts I slow it down, cupping each side of his face with my hands. I stare deeply into his eyes without shame as my lips flutter over his.
“Do you take the pill regularly,” he asks, his eyelids heavy with desire. The question startles me at first and I pause my lips against his, and then murmur out an “Every day.” I do things to his mouth with my tongue that has him shuddering. I smile against his mouth amazed that I can cause such a reaction in him with my mouth never once coming nowhere near his penis.
He responds to my touch by flipping me around and setting my back to the cushion of the sofa. “Get this off,” he says, aggressively working the slip dress up and off over my head. Then he is raising up enough to slip my panties down my legs. I do the same, undress him with the same urgency, addicted to the new feeling of wanting a man inside me.
It cannot happen fast enough.
The only light on in the apartment is the one over the stove. It gives just enough light for me to appreciate how incredibly sexy this man is. My palm rests over his solid abs, my fingernails scrapping up and over the muscles corded along his chest and shoulders.
What took me so long to see that he is perfect?
Bringing the blanket with him he settles over me, between my legs. He lifts the hand that is touching him up to his mouth, turning it over and kissing my palm. His tongue comes out softly sweeping my palm, and I stutter inside. His dark eyes meet mine. He evenly dispenses his weight to an elbow staring down at me asking softly, “You okay?” I nod. “Are you sure?”
“Better than okay.” I lift my head and press my lips to his.
My body writhes beneath him. His naked body hot against mine and then suddenly I am shaky with this overwhelming fear. Not frightened that Sawyer will hurt me, I know he never will. But frightened that this, what is happening here…that it really matters.
That makes the stakes high.
What if I screw up?
What if I allow myself to care and need him and then he breaks my heart? This is new territory. This is so much different than just having empty, emotionless sex. The fact that my body craves and needs his touch more than it needs anything else scares the shit out of me. So I do the only thing I know how to do. “Fuck me,” I breathe out, nipping suggestively at his lips.
My motive is to turn what’s happening into something crude and vulgar, stripping it of its valve and diminishing its weight so I can deal with it.
As if he doesn’t hear me Sawyer’s eyes lower to his hand with its wide expanse sliding up and over my lower stomach, over the peaks of each my breast, and up my throat where he grips my chin forcing m
e to look him directly in the eyes.
My heart pounds.
This man is going to destroy you.
His mouth moves to my breast. His hot tongue turns each nipple hard.
“Sawyer,” I struggle to get out.
“You sure,” he asks, giving me an escape. He knows me well. Knows I am looking for one. But the truth is, I don’t want to escape.
“I want you…inside me,” I whisper. “Please.” I sound needy. Right now, I am needy.
After several agonizing minutes, Sawyer drags the head of his cock through my dampness. Again and again he teases me until I grab desperately onto him and force him to push inside me.
Oh, sweet Jesus!
My eyes shutter shut at the unexpected feel of him entering me. It’s the most consuming feeling in the world. It’s pure heaven. Better than I could have ever imaged. This is why people want to have sex. This is what all the fuss is about. Being filled with someone that you surrender that part of yourself to willingly.
It’s addictive.
Sawyer Bentley is now my drug of choice.
“Do you feel that?” he murmurs. My eyes flutter open to find him intently watching my facial expressions. I should feel ashamed or embarrassed, but I don’t. I know what he wants to see. After my confession of never having experienced this while being sober or with someone I choose to be with…he needs to know that I feel him.
“Oh yeah,” I mumble on a moan. “I feel it.”
Raising my hips to meet his every gentle thrust together, we establish a slow, comfortable rhythm. In sync. A rhythm that strokes that part of me that wants to be stroked by him and him only. I grope at the sharpness of his shoulder blades needing something to grasp on to, the downward path of his spine to the small of his back, finally my nails digging into the meaty flesh of his ass cheeks wanting, no needing to force him deeper. Much deeper. As deep as he is willing to go. He mutters a curse into the side of my neck, sliding his hand up my arm. “Mya,” he says softly and then he is kissing me.