“I don’t know, it’s just weird. You don’t normally sneak around and lie.”
She was right. “I just need some fresh air, that’s all,” I said. “The truth is, I bought a six-pack of doughnuts and I don’t want Bradley to see me eating them. He already thinks I’m a mess today since I’m hungover.” That was actually the truth. Well, sort of. I had really bought a dozen doughnuts and they were sitting in a box on the passenger seat next to me, ready to stuff in my face until I couldn’t eat anymore. My mouth watered just thinking about it.
“Oh my God, you’re kidding me, right? You’re not going to be able to fit into your dress.”
“And that’s why I’m sneaking around. My mother will say that a hundred times over the next few days. I don’t want to hear it. I just want some sugar and some fat.” Even as I said it out loud to defer further questions, I felt embarrassed. I had been on a perpetual diet since the age of fifteen. It was so ingrained in me to stay thin I couldn’t even call it a diet anymore. It was just my lifestyle. Beautiful Bella. It’s who I was and I was terrified of what would be left of me if I weren’t striving for perfection anymore.
Right now I felt so wrecked though I had to have a doughnut. The craving was overwhelming. It felt defiant and rebellious. A big screw you to my fiancé for cheating on me. Maybe that didn’t make sense to anyone else, but it did to me. He had cheated on me despite my doing everything in my power to be perfect, so I needed to let go and not be good for just one night. I wanted to give in to my urges, discipline be damned.
“Fair enough. Your secret is safe with me.”
“Thanks. I’ll pick you up tomorrow for my bridesmaids’ brunch.” It was something I had been looking forward to and had carefully planned the world’s most adorable outfit for, but now I was dreading it. “Love you, bestie.”
Kennedy made kiss sounds into the phone and then we hung up. I took a deep breath and stared at the house again. This was such a bad idea. But I never indulged in bad ideas. I was going to own this bitch just this one time. I was six days out from my quarter-of-a-freaking-million-dollar wedding, and my fiancé, who I had thought loved me, was probably a serial cheater.
I opened the car door and grabbed the box of doughnuts and the very large bottle of chardonnay I had purchased on the drive over. I had taken a shower, removed the rest of my acrylics, fixed my hair extensions, and put on a sundress. Originally I had intended to smash on the doughnuts in my car, but that felt too criminal. I wasn’t trying to impress Christian Jordan. He could deal with me eating fried balls of dough.
Thinking his son might be asleep for the night, I texted Christian instead of knocking on the door, so I didn’t wake Camp. When the door swung open I smiled at him, even as my mouth went dry. He was standing there with no shirt on and he was muscular and strong. Tan. Sexy. He had beard stubble, like he’d had a rough day and hadn’t bothered to shave. Which I had to assume he had since he’d spent the night before in jail. Even the dark circles under his eyes only served to make him look more rugged, more manly. He had on jeans, hanging low on his hips, the waistband of his black underwear visible. I swallowed hard when I noticed how carved his abs were and that there seemed to be a V leading down into his pants. I could even see the outline of his cock, pressing against his jeans.
The word “cock,” even in my head, made me blush. I really am a prude. I can’t help it. I don’t mean to be. But sex is…crazy. Intimate. My eyes shot back up to his and he looked amused, like he knew what I had been checking out.
“Hi!” I said, and my voice was high-pitched and overly cheerful. “Thanks for letting me stop by. I brought you doughnuts and wine.” I flipped the lid of the doughnut box open to display an assortment of flavors.
His eyebrows shot up. “Thanks. Come on in.”
He didn’t offer to take anything from me and I struggled to hold the wine and close the lid again. It made me feel flustered. I wasn’t sure I could do this. I wasn’t sure I could ask Christian to teach me how to satisfy my fiancé so I could make him want me again, then dump him.
But I followed Christian into the house. It was small and dark and dated. But when I stepped in and set the wine and the box on the coffee table, I could see it was very clean. I sank onto a plaid couch and glanced around. “Is your son in bed already?”
He nodded. “Just put him down.” Christian was barefoot and he moved past me toward a small kitchen. “I’ll get you a glass.”
“The wine is for you,” I lied.
It was clear he didn’t believe me. “I’m not going to drink since I’m here alone with Camp. But I’ll get you a glass.”
“Oh, well, there’s no point in opening the bottle then,” I said, and yes, I was disappointed.
It must have been obvious, because he reversed his position. “Fine, I’ll have a glass too. Just one though.”
I actually sighed in relief, and I think he was smart enough to notice. Christian returned with two mismatched wineglasses and a corkscrew. The glass he handed me had holly berries etched on it with Mayor’s Ball above the design. It looked like a party favor of some kind.
“Sorry, that’s all my mother has,” he said. “I think she drinks wine out of juice glasses usually. We’re not about appearances here, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“This is fine, thank you.” He opened the wine and poured a full glass first for me, then for himself. I took a delicate sip. “Which doughnut would you like? You get first pick.” I turned the box with a flourish. “You seem like a chocolate glaze kind of guy. Or no, I think the bacon one. Do you like bacon?” I pointed to it and smiled at Christian.
He stared at me and said with a slow, sexy drawl, “I want a cream filled.”
“Oh!” I wasn’t even sure if I had gotten a cream-filled one. I scanned the box, flustered. Then my cheeks burned when I realized he had just meant it as a sexual innuendo. He probably didn’t even want a dang doughnut. But I snagged the Boston cream out of the box and held it out to him. “Here you go.”
Christian took it from me and bit into it, taking nearly half the pastry into his mouth. “Mmm. Thanks.”
He wasn’t doing anything unusual, but for some reason I felt hot all over. I fanned myself. “Is it warm in here?”
“Yes, sorry. No air-conditioning.”
“Does that mean you’re not going to put a shirt on?” I was both horrified and intrigued by that. I didn’t want to see him shirtless. Yet I couldn’t stop looking at his chest.
“That’s exactly what it means. Pretend we’re at the beach. Or maybe locked in a closet together.”
Not something I wanted to picture at all. No room to move. Christian close to me. Our bodies brushing.
I crossed my legs tightly and chose a doughnut covered in sprinkles. I took a minuscule bite, so tiny it almost wasn’t worth it. But I was afraid of it, in a weird way. I had trained myself to think of sweets and fat and carbs as the enemy. Sugar exploded in my mouth. I closed my eyes, overcome with pleasure. “Holy moly, that tastes so good. Oh my God.” I took another, bigger bite.
“You haven’t had a doughnut in a while?” he asked, sitting down on a chair next to the couch and sliding back into it, his legs spread.
“It’s been eleven years since I ate a doughnut. It’s like a unicorn to me at this point. They don’t exist.” The feeling that swept over me was legitimate euphoria. I dipped my tongue inside the doughnut to scrape away a huge blob of buttercream icing. It actually gave me goosebumps and I sighed in ecstasy.
“Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are?” he asked. “Or is that the game? You know it and you’re trying to drive me crazy. Because if that’s what it is, it’s working.”
Shocked, I shook my head. Beautiful, attractive, thin, sure. I knew I was those things. But sexy? No. I never felt sexy. Sexy was for women who knew how to let down their guard and get messy and dirty. That
wasn’t me. Ever. “I wasn’t trying to do anything. I just really forgot how good doughnuts taste.”
“That’s kind of insane, you know. Eleven years?” He took a sip of his wine and swished it around like it was mouthwash. “But I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”
I was too busy chewing another mouthful to respond.
“So, besides wanting an excuse to eat a doughnut in a judgment-free zone, can I ask why you’re here?”
This was the tricky part. How did I express myself without sounding totally pathetic? “Is this a judgment-free zone?” I asked to stall and gauge his receptiveness.
“Yes.” Christian nodded. He finished off his wine, watching me as he did. “And I think you picked me because you know that. Look around you. Nothing here to be pretentious about. Local loser and all that.”
My pleasure was interrupted by the shame of those words. “I’m sorry. I still can’t believe I said that. Honestly, I’m a nice person.” I wanted everyone around me to be happy, to feel special—I’ve always been this way. I couldn’t believe I had taken out my insecurity on Christian in such an ugly way when I was drunk.
“Water under the bridge, Bella. Doesn’t mean I won’t give you shit about it when I can though.” He grinned and leaned forward, picked up a doughnut with powdered sugar dusted over the top. “Here. You know you want it.”
I did. My mouth watered. I fought with myself. One was fine, but two? Like how disgusting would that be? But he was smiling at me and it wasn’t a lecherous smile. It was oddly sweet. Like he thought I was cute. I took it and bit it, feeling a little sullen and a lot guilty.
“Don’t feel guilty,” he said, as if he could read my thoughts. “You’re too skinny anyway.”
That had me dropping the doughnut. “What? What are you talking about? I’m not emaciated.” I was mortified. I worked hard to be thin and in shape. Really hard. To hear that he thought I was unattractive was just absolutely humiliating. I stood up quickly. “I should go.”
“What?” He stood up too and grabbed my arm. “Why? Why did that upset you?”
I forced myself to look at him. “It’s not a big deal.” Just that my fiancé apparently thought I was unattractive and now clearly this random guy did too. “I just think I made a mistake in coming here.”
I wasn’t even sure what the heck I was doing anymore. It was a new sensation for me and I hated it. I had never felt so unsure of myself.
“Just tell me what’s going on,” he said. “And then we can decide if it was a mistake or not.”
I stopped to consider his words. Normally, I was tenacious in getting what I wanted. I had inherited that from my mother. And I was here already anyway.
So I forced my chin up and told him the truth. “I came here to ask you to help me be better at sex.”
* * *
—
I heard Bella’s words. But it still took me a second to process them. “What?” She looked embarrassed yet determined. Her lip was quivering.
“I need…improvement. And I thought you could help.”
And that would be my dick getting instantly hard. She wanted a damn tutorial on how to be a better fuck? Holy shit. Could anything be hotter? It really couldn’t. Except I needed to know why she thought she sucked at sex. I wasn’t sure I had ever met a woman who doubted her ability in bed. Most women were smart enough to realize that if they showed up and got naked it was going to be enough for a lot of men. Enthusiasm went a long way.
I stroked her arm with my thumb. “So what makes you think you need help? I’m pretty sure you get naked, suck a little dick, and it’s all good. You can’t really mess it up.”
She just shook her head. “Apparently I can. I’m…boring.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”
I was having a hard time visualizing what she meant by that. Did she literally not move? Did she talk about shopping while she was being fucked? Like what the hell did that actually mean? I had been with a lot of women, and there were only a few that I would label as boring. One girl, we had just had zero chemistry. We had both been bored and slightly annoyed with each other. Another had winced every time I touched her. That hadn’t been boring as much as disturbing as fuck.
I didn’t picture Bella being like either of those chicks.
“I mean I’m boring!” she repeated, flustered. “I don’t know.”
“Do you like sex?” I asked, figuring that might be as good a place as any to start. I bent down and picked up her wineglass and handed it to her. She might need some liquid courage to finish what she had started.
She gave a jerky nod. “Yes.” She took a huge sip of her wine. “I definitely do.”
That was a fucking relief. “That’s good. If you didn’t like sex I am not sure what I could tell you.”
“I mean, I like it overall,” she said, waving her hand out in an arch. “But there are certain things I don’t like.”
Here came the disclaimers. “Like what?” I couldn’t imagine she would get into fetishes, but otherwise I had no idea what a woman like Bella would object to.
“Well.” She took a drink. “I don’t like butt…things.” She gestured to her ass in case it wasn’t clear, I guess.
I knew she didn’t mean to be funny, but it was. “So you don’t want to get fucked up the ass? I don’t think that’s a deal breaker for a lot of guys.” Especially if they had a decent-sized cock. A lot of women had a hard no when it came to taking a big dick in the back door. I reached for the bottle of wine and refilled both our glasses.
“This is so awkward.” Bella put her hands on her cheeks and took a deep breath. She collapsed back onto the couch and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I don’t like oral sex either. Giving it or receiving it.”
That gave me pause. In my experience, nine out of ten women wanted me to go down on them all damn day long. “You don’t like having your pussy eaten?”
“Oh my God! Do you have to say it like that?” Her cheeks were pink and she gave me a look of disapproval.
“What, pussy?” It had been a long time since I’d met a woman who appeared as outraged at the word as Bella did. Maybe that summer a social worker convinced my mom to send us to church camp and I made it my goal to get kicked out by talking dirty to as many fellow campers as I could. Since then, nope. Bella was definitely a new kind of woman to me.
“Isn’t there another way to say it? Oral sex seems more tasteful.”
“Tasteful is one way to put it.”
She made a sound of distress.
Bella wasn’t just a princess. She was a prude. “You really don’t like having your pussy eaten?” I repeated because I was taking far too much pleasure in watching her bluster. Call it payback for her calling me a loser. Or more likely it was just fascinating. I had never met someone who was so uncomfortable with basic sex talk.
“No. I do not. I think it’s highly overrated. And anything like spanking or bondage. I totally don’t get that. I didn’t like being spanked as a kid, why would I like that now?”
I was torn between wanting to laugh and taking her over my knee and showing her exactly why she would like it. “It’s a whole different animal as an adult, sweetheart. Trust me.” Spanking Bella held a lot of fucking appeal. Damn. I shifted my cock in my jeans, needing more room.
She noticed the movement and her eyes widened. “What is…”
I shrugged. “I pictured spanking you. Sue me.”
Bella drained her second glass of wine and reached for another doughnut. “No one is coming home anytime soon, are they?”
“No.” I shook my head. “My mother is in Boston for the night and my sister works until two in the morning.” I took a sip of my wine and went to sit next to her. I bumped my knee against hers. “So what is it you want from me? If you want verbal instruction or advice from a guy, you can find that in
a book or online. I don’t think that’s what you’re asking for, is it?”
She dragged her tongue across her bottom lip, smearing and moistening the powered sugar dusting her mouth. My dick hardened even more. I could tell she didn’t do it on purpose. There were girls who knew what they were doing. They used their sexuality to their advantage, and God love ’em, I appreciated the effort. Bella knew she was attractive. She was confident in her social skills. But she had no clue how actually hot she was. That was very obvious to me.
Even now, she seemed nervous, debating how to answer. “I was thinking you could show me.”
So she went there. I was impressed. Turned on. I wasn’t sure where the fuck her fiancé fit into all of this, but she definitely had my attention. I ran my hand over hers, lacing my fingers through her fingers. I had been both hoping she would say that and dreading it. Because I couldn’t do this. There was trouble and then there was “are you fucking crazy?” I had already done that and look where it had landed me. Fistfights with my brother and being tied to Ali for the rest of my life.
As tempting as it was to prove to Bella that being spanked could be all sorts of fun, I did not need to be embroiled in any more complicated shit than I already was. Besides, she didn’t want to do this. It was bravado. She wasn’t the cheating kind, I could tell.
“What’s in it for me?” I asked. Because hey, everyone thinks I’m an asshole. I needed to push her away, and being brutal would do just that. “Because you’re high maintenance by your own admission.”
Despite my desire to win, to feel like I had her, I needed to push back, piss her off, get her to change her mind. She would regret doing this, even if it was to improve her sexual prowess. Hell, she was probably going to regret even this conversation tomorrow. Imagine the guilt if she let my dirty local cock inside her blue-blooded body.
The Breakup Page 4