Sugar (The Henchmen MC Book 12)

by Jessica Gadziala

  "What about..." I started then stopped, having to choke back a moan, knowing that we were in a mostly-empty library, but sound carried easily through the open space. "Your anatomy?"

  "I'm a fan of hands-on learning too," he told me, head dipping down a bit more, his breath warm on my ear as he spoke.

  And, well, I didn't need more than that.

  My hand slid down his solid chest and abs, easily finding the button and zip to his fly, undoing them, then sliding my hand inside, yanking down the front of his boxer briefs, and sliding my hand around his straining cock.

  The hiss of his breath from between his lips might have been the hottest sound I had ever heard.

  "Fuck me," I demanded quietly, rubbing my thumb over the wet tip of his cock.

  He made that growling noise again as my free hand moved behind his back, squeezing his ass before slipping into the pocket to fetch his wallet, finding a condom, taking it out, then slipping the wallet back into place as his lips finally crashed down on mine as his fingers got more and more insistent.

  "Fuck me," I repeated. This time, there was no mistaking that my tone was pleading against his lips.

  "Guess you can't have a proper anatomy lesson without a... thorough sex education, right?" he asked, fingers sliding out of me, slipping up to tap on my clit before his hand grabbed the small swatch of my panties and pulled.

  "Right," I agreed, feeling a thrill low in my belly at the sound of my panties ripping. I didn't even care that it was one of my favorite pairs - pastel tie-dyed with 'I donut care' on them, a giant sprinkle-covered donut as the O in the word. What can I say? I was a fan of cutesy things. But I could buy another pair; I wouldn't trade the primal way he got rid of the last barrier between us for anything.

  He snagged the condom, ripping it open, and slipping it on before grabbing me at my hips, whipping me around, and bending me forward, making my ass stick out toward him. His hands went down, snagging my wrists, then placing them at the edge of a shelf as he moved behind me, his cock pressing into the cheek of my ass until I wiggled it, getting him where I needed it, sure I heard a small chuckle at my utter desperation.

  There was no more talking as he grabbed his cock, slid it between my lips, tapped my clit, then slammed deep inside me.

  I just barely remembered to bite into my lip as the sound rose up my throat, feeling his cock settle even deeper than it had the last time - something that didn't even seem possible.

  "Fuck," I whispered when he paused for a second before his hands sank into my hips, and he started fucking me. This time, not hard, just fast.

  Screw moaning, anyone within fifty feet wouldn't need that to know what was happening; the sound of our bodies slamming together floated across the air, our breathing ragged and mingled.

  The lip biting became all but a show as I got closer, as my walls tightened around him, as my body threatened another shattering orgasm. Jaw tight, I managed to keep things to low whimpers.

  But as his hand shifted, one slipping forward and between my thighs, working my clit with expert precision, I knew there was no way I could keep my orgasm to myself.

  Seeming to sense this, his other hand left my hip, going up, and clamping over my mouth hard, muffling the cry as the orgasm finally broke through my body, making my hands shoot out, knocking half a shelf of books to the floor.

  Sugar came on the end of my orgasm, slamming deep, jerking upward, and hissing out his breath.

  The second my body stopped spasming, reality seemed to come rushing back in a blink.

  There was no way everyone missed the slamming of books hitting the ground.

  I jerked my hips forward, losing his cock, and yanking my skirt back down. Sugar, seeming on the same page as me, turned, tucked himself away, having to deal with the condom as soon as he could get himself to the bathroom.

  Almost as if on cue, a head poked around the corner.

  "Everything okay here?" a middle-aged woman asked, small-eyeing Sugar, likely knowing exactly who he belonged to - and their reputations - and seeming to conclude that he was attempting to assault me or something between the rows.

  "Ugh, yeah," I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "He threw a fit because we don't have Sexual Behavior in the Human Female by Dr. Kinsey," I said, stooping to collect the books on sexuality we had ironically knocked down. "He does not seem to grasp that female sexuality has changed since the 1950s." I shot her a smirk that she gave back. "Men," I added with an eye roll.

  "Got that right. Not with both hands and a map," she added. "I am right over there at the tables if you need me," she added before turning away.

  "Not with both hands and a map, huh?" he asked from behind me, sounding cocky and amused at once, which, well, was just too damn sexy. "So, was I imagining it when your pussy was squeezing my cock a minute ago?"

  "Oh, shut up," I said, putting the last book in its rightful place.

  "Do you need another example?" he asked, eyes wicked as he moved toward me again.

  My hand slammed down in the center of his chest, holding him off. "I do actually have some work to do tonight," I told him, turning, and walking away.

  I went back to the front desk, pretending not to notice him as he passed me on his way toward the bathroom. And while he was inside dealing with the condom, I tried to convince myself that this was it. I just needed another good lay. I needed to fuck him out of my system. That was all.

  I had my back turned when I felt eyes on me. Sighing out my breath, I turned, ready for some asshole teen to say something vaguely - or outright - sexual to me, making me have to be the big, bad adult and scold them for it. Fucking brats making me be a grown up all the time.

  But when I turned, I didn't find some teen ready to try to trip me up with what they thought was a clever innuendo.

  I have a job for you... but it blows.

  If I flip a coin right now, what are the chances of me getting head?

  You know... I'm really on top of things. Would you like to be one?

  What time do you get off? Can I watch?

  I'm looking for treasure; do you mind if I search your chest?

  I love snatching kisses... and vice versa.

  Thinking they're so clever. I could throw out better innuendos after six shots of tequila. I'd had a lot of practice.

  "Thursday night."

  "What?" I asked, brows drawing together.

  "Thursday night. Come to the compound."

  "No." Ugh, but god yes.

  "Stop being a pain in the ass. You know you want to."

  "And you know this because I have practically been stalking you for a week. Oh, wait. No, that'd be you."

  "Christ, Peyton. What's the problem? You like fucking me. Don't even try to deny it."

  "So, you want a booty call situation?" I asked. Normally, those were words that set me on fire. Great sex with no commitment? Sign me up! But for some reason, this time, there was a weird, uncomfortable swirling sensation in my belly at the idea.

  "Call it whatever you want," he invited somewhat cryptically. "But be at the compound on Thursday when you get off here."

  "So you can get me off there?" I asked, smirking.

  "Something like that, yeah."

  "Alright, fine," I said, ignoring the voice that said if one of the Mallick or Rivers men saw me entering that building, they would come charging in after me. "But if you fall in love with me, I'm gone."

  "Got it," he agreed, giving me a nod, then turning, and walking out.

  It wasn't until I was done getting my busy work finished that the reality managed to set in.

  I had a new fuck-buddy.

  I had a new fuck-buddy who happened to be a Henchmen.

  And I maybe, possibly, sort-of, kinda wanted to be more than a fuck-buddy to him.

  I mean, in theory.

  Not in reality.

  That would be insane.

  Right?

  I didn't even know the man.

  And that was just the way I needed t
o keep it.

  Casual.

  So I didn't get hurt.

  "Hurt?"

  I didn't realize I had said that out loud until the group of teens who were heading out the door turned back to look at me with drawn-together brows.

  Hurt.

  That was asinine.

  I never got hurt. Not with men. That wasn't how it worked. I had managed to maintain a long-ass history of not-hurt-feelings when it came to the opposite sex. Sure, there was disappointment if they suddenly caught feelings and I needed to ditch them, or had whiskey dick, or found a girl and had to cut off our casual fun times. But that was it. Just disappointment. Nothing even in the same ballpark as actual hurt.

  Why, then, was something inside me suggesting that there was the potential for that foreign feeling here? With Sugar... of all men. Hell, I didn't even know his real name. Or anything about him other than he was a great fuck, a shameless flirt, and had bad taste in literature.

  As if sensing my inner turmoil, my phone started vibrating under my desk, making me almost lunge at it, happy for anything that could distract me.

  Finding my sister's number, I smiled and accepted the call.

  "I know, I know," she said as soon as I picked up. "I am never supposed to call if a text would suffice."

  "And yet," I said, smiling as I sat down, propping my heels up on the desk before I remembered I didn't have panties on.

  "Oh, god," I hissed, slamming my heels down so hard that the impact ricocheted up the little icepicks and into my calves and knees as I rushed out from behind my desk, making a bee-line for the anatomy section. "Shit shit shit," I added, turning the corner, eyes looking around.

  But they weren't there.

  My panties.

  He'd ripped them off.

  But they were gone.

  "What's going on?" Autumn asked, sounding only vaguely concerned since she was used to a bit of melodrama from me here and there.

  "Nothing. I just... lost something," I said, going back an aisle in case they somehow got kicked around.

  But they were gone.

  Which meant some pervy teen stole them.

  Or Sugar took them with him.

  "So what have you been up to? I miss talking to you. Do you still have Jamie staying with you?"

  "Mostly, yeah. Sometimes she stays with Savvs. Or they both stay with me."

  "Good."

  "You're worried about me."

  "I don't like the idea of you being alone all the time," she corrected.

  "I'm a big girl."

  "Yeah yeah yeah. You can take care of yourself. Blah blah blah. I'm allowed to worry about you being all alone in your apartment, whacking your head on the cabinet, dying, and being eaten by cats."

  "I don't have cats."

  "That doesn't matter. When a single woman dies, cats appear."

  "To eat their corpse."

  "Exactly."

  I laughed at that, big, loud, happier than I had been in a while.

  And I got shushed.

  Shushed.

  In my own library.

  I turned to find some college-aged kid giving me the stink-eye. Which only made me laugh harder.

  "So, what? The only way to avoid being eaten by cats is to become not-single?"

  "Oh, I know better than to hope you settle down, start wearing an apron, and cooking chicken pot pies."

  "I have an apron!"

  "That says Always preheat the oven before putting the meat in."

  "It is still functional. And I do cook."

  "Oh yeah?"

  "Mhm. Last night, I cooked Spaghetti-Os. Did you know they come in adult-sized cans now? It was like finding out they were re-releasing French Toast Crunch."

  "Peyton, be serious for a minute. I want to hear how your life is going."

  "Well, I finally got my phone to stop correcting rosé to rose. So I have that going for me." At her sigh, I smiled. "I'm fine, Autumn. I still miss having you around, but I'm happy for you. And I'm never alone for more than like a day at a time. Someone is always around. Cooking me breakfast, washing my sheets, deep cleaning the bathroom. You know, being a much better roommate than you ever were," I teased, knowing she would know I was joking.

  "Are you coming to dinner Sunday?"

  "You say this as though I have a choice."

  There was no choice when it came to Sunday dinner. Charlie could talk Helen into allowing one of the guys to have some slack if they had work, but other than that, the only excuse was you were too sick to get out of bed.

  Besides, I would never pass up on Sunday dinner.

  First, because food.

  Second, it was family.

  I didn't realize until I found the Mallick and Rivers clan that I had been missing anything. I had my sister. We were the world to each other. That was all that seemed to matter.

  But then I got invited to Charlie and Helen's, and it was like my soul went Oh, there you are!

  I never realized that I had been yearning for a family. And not necessarily blood. I had parents by blood. And it wasn't anything special. In fact, the only blood there was bad.

  So it never occurred to me that I wanted a real mother and father figure. After having shitty ones.

  Then there were Charlie and Helen.

  They just filled a void I didn't know was empty. And because they were who they were, they were open, honest, accepting, and fans of whatever kind of crazy you brought along with you. They didn't expect you to change. They just loved you exactly how you were.

  And I cherished that.

  And whatever time we got to have together.

  Even though they were only a relation of mine through marriage - and not even my own marriage - I found time to drop over there on my own. Help Helen cook. Discuss new cocktail options for Chaz's with Charlie.

  Sunday dinners were my favorite though. When all the crazy from all our families got together. Adults and kids alike.

  And since they had all the Rivers boys to rag on about getting wives, I was generally left alone about my chronic singledom.

  It's good that you know what you want. And what you don't want. That was what Helen had told me when Rush had complained that I wasn't nagged about bringing dates when they were. These men, I swear they wouldn't know what they wanted if it walked up and slapped them in the faces.

  "Is there a food theme this week?" I asked, knowing that Helen had been experimenting with that idea here and there. One week was - to the groans of all the very large, very hungry men at the table - tapas. Another, it was Chinese. Once, it was Mexican. And I thought I had died and gone to burrito heaven.

  "Italian this time."

  "Fuck yeah," I said, my stomach already growling at the idea. "All the noodles. What am I supposed to bring? Other than my sparkling personality, and amazing ass?"

  "Helen wants all us girls to come over early - without the kids - to bake some desserts instead of just pot lucking."

  "Only if I get to be the one to make all the cannoli jokes," I stipulated.

  "As if anyone would ever try to steal your thunder on the inappropriate cream-based humor. She said to bring Savvs and Jamie if they aren't busy. I think she's getting annoyed at all the testosterone that the Rivers bring to the table. Not enough estrogen to balance it out."

  "Tell me about it. If I have to hear one more conversation about how Team A is gonna slaughter Team B in the championplayofftitlething, I am going to scream."

  "Good. So bring them."

  "Will do," I agreed, loving the idea of all my people in one place.

  "Ronnie can come too."

  I snorted at that, shuffling through the purchase log, carefully whiting out something we already had freaking ten copies of. "Ronnie is primping for the next few days then he is being whisked away to San Fransisco for the weekend by his new man."

  "Aw. And you set them up, you little matchmaker you. I knew there was a hopeless romantic buried under there."

  "Except I was trying to get him lai
d, not wifey'd up."

  "Sure. Sure," she said, sounding amused.

  "I don't do love."

  "You do love just fine."

  "I meant with men," I insisted, doing so with maybe too much emphasis, making up for the fact that I was clearly having some kind of issue with that currently.

  "Someday, girlie. Someday, I am going to make you eat those words. And I am going to enjoy watching you choke them down."

  "Ew. No. I'm hanging up now," I told her, shaking my head, ignoring the weird gut-punch feeling that took over my core.

  To that, she laughed, a musical sound I missed hearing more often. "Alrighty. See you Sunday. If you could fall in love by then, we would all appreciate it. It would be all the better to gang up on you at once."

  "Shut up. Love you."

  "Love you too. Talk to you later."

  "Later," I agreed, hanging up, sighing out a breath as I checked the clock.

  Another hour until closing.

  I had a feeling I wasn't going to be able to focus on a damn word in my book, a newly chronic problem that was putting me in a surly ass mood. How was I supposed to function without a fresh kill to calm me down, damnit?

  I chose instead to attack all the surfaces in the whole damn library with antibacterial wipes, something I usually only did during flu season. I wasn't a freak like Reese who could be found wiping down the covers of books as she checked them back in. But I always found cleaning cathartic. And distracting.

  I needed distraction.

  As it would turn out, there wasn't a single thing that could keep me focused for the next three days. Every spare thought I had was on Thursday night. After work. When I would go to The Henchmen compound for the first time ever.

  I had even packed a special outfit for it in my bag so I could doll it up in the bathroom before I headed over.

  I strapped myself into a hot pink bandeau under a mostly see-through mesh black top, slipped into a tight black and white vertical striped short pencil skirt, fixed my hair and makeup, put some pretty hot pink panties on that I had maybe bought specifically for him to rip off me, and - the pièce de résistance - a pair of hot pink high heels that didn't have normal heels. Oh, no. They had lady legs and butts as heels. They were my current favorite item in my wardrobe.