Mr. Sugar: A disturbing psychological thriller with a twist of dark romance

by L. D. Fox

  Wine’s panties.

  He’d thrown them away, he hurriedly reminded himself.

  Then why did he have a dim memory of retrieving them from the otherwise empty trash can?

  And where the hell had he left them?

  Jason hurried over to the couch but a quick scan revealed no lacy underwear. In the kitchen, perhaps?

  No. Another dim memory had him thinking they were inside his bedroom. He’d probably stashed them in his bedside table. He seemed to remember doing that last night, after he’d texted her. After she hadn’t replied.

  He heard the toilet flush and prodded his glasses back up his nose. Jason flopped down on the couch as Samantha exited the bathroom, a relieved grin on her face.

  They’d both had way too much to drink at the bowling alley.

  He’d been worried about driving home, but it turned out she lived only a few blocks away from him. And when she’d ask him to make an emergency stop for the sake of her bladder, the closest place had been his apartment.

  Samantha adjusted the strap of her bra. It had been slipping off her shoulder the entire evening. Jason had watched her slide it back up her tanned skin more times than he could count.

  “Thank you, so much. I wouldn’t have made it home.”

  He got to his feet. “Sure.”

  She pushed away from the wall and strode up to him, a crooked smile on her lips. The red wine she’d been drinking had stained her mouth blood red. It lent her face a vintage, pin-up girl air that Jason was finding more and more sexy the longer he looked at her.

  Fuck, not this again.

  He had to get her out of here. The last thing he needed was her thinking he was some kind of pervert; first looking at her ass and then coming onto her when she was drunk. When he was drunk. Drunk? He was wasted. He’d tried matching her drink for drink, but she’d quickly pulled ahead. Maybe she’d been trying to get him drunk.

  “I should get you home,” he said.

  Samantha giggled. “Oh no,” she warned, waggling a finger at him. She sank onto the couch and rested her head back. “I shouldn’t have let you drive me this far in the first place.” She pointed at the half-way open bathroom door. “I just realised in there exactly how bloody drunk I am.” Then she pointed at him. “Which means you’re at least half as drunk as me.” Samantha shook her head emphatically. “You shouldn’t be driving in your state. It’s a miracle we made it this far.”

  Jason opened his mouth to protest, and then remembered running a red light and not even realising it until Samantha had stopped laughing long enough to tell him that he couldn’t drive worth shit.

  Fuck, he’d almost gotten them killed. Wasn’t that a sobering thought? And it seemed Samantha had recalled the same thing, because she suddenly sat forward and shook her head.

  “Wow,” she whispered, dragging her fingers over her cheeks. “You have coffee?”

  “Yes.” Jason snapped his fingers at her. “I do. Strong coffee.”

  Samantha chuckled as he rushed into the kitchen. He was pouring cream into their cups when he heard movement behind him. Jason turned, nearly dropping the cream when he saw Samantha hoisting herself up onto the kitchen counter behind her. She seemed surprised that he’d heard her, because she froze with a naughty grin on her face.

  “You mind?” she asked slowly.

  “No. You snuck up on me.”

  “Sorry.” She began swinging her legs under her. She’d taken off her shoes. Her toenails were free of polish, but recently manicured.

  It really sucked that he knew these things; Kate had ruined him, she really had.

  “You have a thing for feet, or something?” Samantha asked.

  Jason tore his gaze away from her feet and cleared his throat. “No! I’m so sorry. My ex-wife—” And he cut the rest of that sentence off with a sharp intake of breath.

  He turned away from her and put the cream in the fridge. Jason handed Sam her coffee, their fingers brushing as he did. She put the cup to her mouth, but didn’t drink, watching him over the rim instead.

  “What happened?” she whispered.

  “With? Oh.” Jason nudged his glasses back up his nose. “You know. We fell out of love, I guess.” He pointed at Samantha’s feet. “She used to go to the salon every weekend. Would rant about their prices. I eventually ended up giving her pedicures just to get her to stop whining.”

  Samantha snorted over her coffee and then looked embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  “No, it’s fine. I didn’t enjoy it.” He shrugged. “That bitch always managed to get me to do things I didn’t want to.”

  He took a sip of coffee, and Samantha mimicked him. Then she set her cup aside and held out both arms, beckoning him closer. He put his cup down and gave her a cautious look.

  “What?” he asked, his voice light with caution.

  “Just come here. I won’t bite.”

  Jason inched closer.

  Samantha reached behind his head and touched the ball of hair at the nape of his neck.

  “I want to see what it looks like loose. May I?”

  “Sure,” Jason managed.

  She’d obviously sprayed perfume onto her wrists earlier in the day; he caught a whiff of an intoxicatingly-heady aroma as she tugged at the elastic band keeping his hair back from his face.

  Samantha ran her fingers through his hair, drawing it forward and over his ears. The touch brought tremors over his scalp; it lifted the hairs on the back of his head and made his cock shift as if it was looking around for Wine.

  “It’s quite long,” she mused. “I wouldn’t have thought. And soft. You obviously take good care of your hair.”

  Jason laughed. “If you’re starting to wonder about my sexual orientation… don’t worry, so am I.”

  “Never,” Sam said with a soft laugh. “You’re intelligent, and good looking, and sweet.” Her voice faded at the last.

  Her eyes moved from his hair to his mouth. As if realising what she was doing, Sam blushed and averted her gaze, snapping her hands away from Jason to grab hold of her coffee cup.

  “Sam…” Jason trailed off, not sure what he’d been planning to say.

  “I should go.” Her voice was suddenly husky. “I’ve had too much to drink, and I’m making all sorts of inappropriate comments.”

  “It’s okay,” Jason said. “I probably won’t even remember what you said in the morning.”

  There was a flash of hurt in her eyes at his comment, and Jason pressed his eyes closed.

  “Shit, that came out wrong.”

  He heard her hop off the kitchen counter. “I’m going to call a cab.”

  “Sam,” he called after her as she made her way into the lounge. “I’m a dick. Please, I really didn’t—”

  She turned and smiled at him. Not as warmly as before, but her face lit up just the same.

  “It’s okay, Jason. I shouldn’t be here. It’s definitely not appropriate.” Samantha turned back to the couch and bent to retrieve her handbag from the floor.

  Which gave Jason a perfect view of her ass.

  It was as spectacular as he remembered.

  He wanted to touch it. Squeeze it. Jerk those perfect halves apart and stare at her—

  Jason put his coffee cup down, a little harder than he’d intended, and strode up to her while she was still straightening.

  “I don’t want you to go,” he murmured.

  He slid his hands around her waist and turned her to face him. His head was fizzing; the alcohol had completely dissolved his inhibitions. He’d been horny for days now, ever since Wine had visited him in his office. He had a feeling Sam liked him; she’d been flirting with him the whole day.

  Samantha frowned up at him in confusion, mouth open as if she wanted to scold him again.

  For a moment, he thought she would resist him. But then she arched her back, melding their bodies together. She gazed up at him with quivering eyelashes, something — concern or lust? — flickering deep in her
golden eyes.

  Jason ran his hands up her hips and over the top of her shoulders, his thumbs tracing her collar bones. She shivered at his touch, but otherwise remained motionless, watching him expectantly, her chest rising and falling with every breath.

  “You have such beautiful skin,” Jason murmured. “Soft. Supple. Like warm clay.”

  Samantha shivered again and closed her eyes. Jason ran the tips of his fingers up her neck and into her hair, tugging free her knot of hair. A heap of auburn curls cascaded to her shoulders, ringlets unfurling around her face. He sank his fingers deep into the mass of hair and pulled them through, combing it out.

  She made a soft sound in the back of her throat; a low keen that made his cock stiffen painfully inside his jeans. He trailed his fingers down her neck, over the hollow at the base of her throat, and down between her breasts.

  Her body tensed as his fingers skimmed over her stomach and traced the zipper at the front of her tight capris. He hesitated, eyes searching hers, with his fingers less than an inch away from her clit.

  Sam groaned and lifted herself onto her toes.

  His fingers skimmed down, brushing her clit. He moved his hand away after a single feather-light stroke.

  “No, Jason,” she moaned. “You can’t tease me like that.”

  Her eyes were more intoxicating than the countless glasses of alcohol he’d consumed today. They were flecked with gold, warm and inviting. His heart began to throb, mimicking the throbbing in his pants. What little inhibitions he had left were now completely annihilated.

  Boring, was he?

  Demure and unsatisfying? Not anymore.

  It was time he treated women like Wine had treated him. She’d seen him, wanted him, and taken him; he’d had little choice in the matter. She’d washed over him like a tempest, abandoning him to recover alone in her wake.

  “You don’t like it when I tease you?” Jason whispered in her ear. “Would you rather I just turn you over and fuck you? No foreplay?” He skimmed a finger over the seam of her capris.

  Samantha shuddered and reached for his hand, perhaps to intensify the touch, but Jason moved out of reach.

  “Will you undress for me?”

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  Student Bodies

  Bonus Story: Dirty Laundry

  Hot Sex & Dryer Sheets

  “He’s just taken off his shirt,” Kendra murmured.

  “What?” I so desperately wanted to look up, but Kendra had already given me the rough side of her tongue when I’d risked a glance a few seconds ago.

  “Mmm…” was the girl’s only response.

  “Seriously?” I said, the word coming out as a whine. “Kendra, I swear, you’d best start spilling—”

  “Abs. Six of them.”

  I stiffened. My blush intensified. It had arrived earlier when Kendra had announced — oh so casually — that the only other patron of the laundromat was busy undressing.

  “Biceps?” I whispered up to her.

  She stood beside one of the dryers, absently folding her underwear as she watched the spectacle unfolding through lowered lashes. Kendra was amazing at doing sneaky undercover stuff like this. Me? I sucked at it.

  “Biceps!” I repeated, more insistent now.

  Kendra threw me a scowl, her gaze flashing back to the mystery man of meager clothing a second later.

  “Perfectly defined.” She tipped her chin up a little. “Strong back. Tattoo.”

  “Tattoo?” I squirmed on the hard bench. This was driving me nuts. I had to look. I had to see what-

  “Sit down,” Kendra hissed. “You’re so freakin’ obvious, Tessa.”

  My ass sank onto the bench. “Tattoo?” I prompted, a touch more patiently.

  “Beautiful,” she said in a breathy whisper. “A snarling tiger. Flames. Something written in Latin.”

  It didn’t sound that fantastic to me, but who was I to judge? I wanted to pout. Knowing Kendra would notice and roll her eyes, I sat stiff as a board instead.

  “Pants.” Kendra casually put aside a lacy, neatly folded, panty.

  “Pants? What about pants?”

  “They’re off.” Kendra drew in a hurried breath. “Oh my God. Tessa, they’re off.”

  I shot to my feet.

  Kendra didn’t even notice.

  The man stood less than six feet away from us, on the other side of the row of dryers dividing the laundromat. He had his back to us — my God his tattoo was spectacular — as he shoved his jeans into the washer. White briefs clung to an ass unbelievably firm and round. His midnight black hair, Adonis-like in its wind-sculpted perfection, was lustrous in the overhead lights.

  He turned, studying both of us for a moment before his face split into a wide smile.

  “Good evening, la-dies.” He had a thick accent, his tongue stifling his words with delicious care.

  I stifled a sigh. Kendra, astonishingly, wasn’t as successful.

  The man’s smile became sultry. He glanced around, perhaps noticing it was just us three, and then took a step closer. He washed his hands down his almost-naked body.

  “Ex-cus-e me…” He paused, as if trying to remember the correct translation. “I hope to… not have… o-ffended you.”

  “No offense,” Kendra belted out, immediately followed by my hasty, “Not at all, not at all.”

  The man gave us a gracious nod of his head and turned back to his machine.

  “It’s… actually…” Kendra began.

  I frowned at her. She didn’t notice.

  “We all do it,” Kendra blurted out. “It’s quite normal here, actually.”

  The Persian god swung back, his muscles gliding over each like eels shagging in melted chocolate. “Ex-cuse?”

  “You wash everything.” Kendra tore off her cardigan. “It’s easier that way. We just didn’t want to offend you. That’s why we didn’t… you know… why we didn’t do it earlier.”

  The man’s golden brow furrowed. “You do it too? The taking off?” He mimicked taking off his pants. For a moment, I thought he was actually going to take off his briefs. That thought — coupled with the obvious bulge in the front of his pants — made me damp.

  Okay, a lot damp. Fine, it made me wet. Wetter — I was already soaked.

  God, had it been that long since I’d seen a cock?

  Well, no. But a cock on a body like that? Yup. Yup, yup, yup.

  Kendra began unbuttoning her dove-grey shirt. She’d dragged me here straight after her work party, not bothering to change from her formal skirt-suit. She hadn’t even switched her heels. Since my shift at the restaurant had only just finished, I was still wearing my uniform too. And, I hasten to add, I work at a place that thinks it’s cute to dress their waitresses as elves year round.

  Oh lord, I was dressed as an elf.

  The man’s eyes slid from Kendra to me. “You… all taking off?”

  “Uh…” I swallowed. Dammit, he’d noticed the goddamn elf outfit. I used shaking fingers to begin working the big-ass buckle that held my green tutu in place. “Sure. Yup. All of us.”

  My heart hammered against my ribs like a rabid bunny in a cage.

  “Easier, like this,” the man said. His smile showed all of his teeth now, white and sparkling.

  He was Adonis. No, Hercules. Wait, Hercules had been blond, hadn’t he? Okay, some demi-god or other. Thor. Yes… he looked like a sun-darkened Thor.

  My belt unhooked. It clanked as it hit the floor.

  “All this?” the man asked, sliding a finger behind the band of his pristine undies.

  Somewhere in the back of the laundry, something went clunk. The sound was completely ignored by all present parties. It was just before midnight on a Tuesday night; the laundromat was deserted. Kendra liked to come here and do her laundry when no one was around so we could smoke a little weed and gi
ggle while we sat on the dryers.

  Except tonight there had been someone. Which had pissed us off, initially. He’d been buried inside one of the machines, and only after I’d plonked my ass down and nearly fallen asleep after a full cycle had Kendra made the offhand comment that our late-night laundromat patron was busy undressing.

  “Yes, everything,” Kendra said, sounding breathless. “Of course.”

  Her bra came off next.

  Thor’s eyes moved to her breasts but, surprisingly, they didn’t stay very long. Instead, they slid past and fixed on me.

  I didn’t wear a bra: I’d read on a blog that they were bad for your boobs. Made them sag. Plus, my service tips got more the colder it was outside. I tried looking away while I tugged the tiny elfin vest free from the tutu’s waistband, but Thor’s melting brown eyes held mine steady.

  I slid off my tight vest, exposing my breasts to the laundry’s cool air. My nipples hardened instantly. Thor’s eyes remained glued to my breasts.

  “You Americans, you like… how I say… the free — the freedom?”

  Oh, how deliciously his foreign tongue caressed those words.

  “We do,” Kendra replied in a husky whisper. “And we’re free to do whatever, and whoever, we want.”

  God, she had balls. Not literally: she just had no shame.

  The man gave us a lopsided smile. “You two… you are—” His brow furrowed for a moment. “—making the love together?”

  Kendra looked over at me, her hands still on the button of her suitpants. Her large breasts swung. Mine were tiny compared to hers; they didn’t sway like that when I moved.

  “Who, us?” Kendra flicked her finger between us. “Well, no. We’re just friends.”

  “Just the friends?” the man repeated, sounding disappointed. “Not so free, this America.”

  “Oh no,” I said, waving at him. “We could if we wanted.”

  “You will?” Thor’s smile lifted. He began playing with that band of elastic — the only thing still keeping Thor’s majestic hammer hidden.

  Kendra turned to me, wearing a wicked grin that made her blue eyes sparkle. Her sandy hair hung loose, surprisingly sleek despite a four-hour work function that had included some heavy drinking.