I couldn't - maybe for the first time in my life - make my mouth and tongue work in unison. The tension in the room became stifling, palpable, uncomfortable enough for me to actually shift my feet.
I wasn't the only one feeling the pressure either.
"She cooked for him," Savea blurted out, shooting me an immediate look of regret.
"You cooked for him?" Autumn asked, knowing the significance there.
"You cooked for who?" King asked, walking back through the room with a suspicious envelope tucked into his back pocket. But I knew better than to ask about business.
"Ronny's new prostate-palpater," Fee lied effortlessly. "Mind yo' business," she added with a sassy smirk.
"Fine, keep your secrets," he said, shaking his head at us. "I'll see you tomorrow, Savvs," he added, sending her one of his sweet smiles. It was a final deathblow to her poor undersexed system.
"You're not staying for dinner?" Helen asked, tone sharp. We all knew skipping Sunday dinner was her biggest no-no.
King gave her a look that she seemed to understand, and said simply, "Work," before heading out.
"She also let him see her without makeup," Jamie supplied suddenly in his absence, making me shoot her a You traitor! look. Which she ignored. "Or contacts," she added.
"Outside," Autumn demanded. "Now," she added when I hesitated, grabbing my wrist, and pulling me with her. "What the hell is going on with you?" she asked as soon as we were on the deck out back.
"Nothing," I objected, shaking my head.
"Please," she said, rolling her eyes very much the way she used to when we were kids. "You can't lie to me. So you might as well just tell me the truth. You have feelings for this guy?"
"I don't know," I admitted, looking down at my feet which were clad in ballet flats, one with Freddie on the top, the other with Jason. "I don't know what is going on."
"Why didn't you call me?" she asked, sounding hurt.
"I don't want to admit it to myself, Autumn. How could I tell you?"
"Jamie knew," she pointed out.
"Jamie is still crashing on my couch," I reminded her. "She is around when he comes by a lot. She sees things. She assumes things because of what she sees."
"And what she is assuming... it's wrong?"
"It's... complicated," I half-lied.
"Alright, look," she said, tone firm, making me look her in the eye. "I get it. Dad sucked. Dad sucked extra hard. And, while you've never told me anything about it, I imagine it got worse when I left. I wasn't there to help shield some of his anger."
"It wasn't your place to try to shield me, Autumn. I pissed him off on purpose. You know that."
"I'm the big sister; it's always my job to try to shield you. But I get it. He was the only male role model we had. And he treated you like shit. I know you've had issues with guys ever since then."
"I don't have issues with men," I objected. "I just like to keep things casual."
"Right. Because if it gets complicated, you have to be vulnerable. You open yourself up to the rejection you always got from Dad. And you don't think you can handle that. I get it, I really do. But that doesn't mean that it is healthy."
"So, what? It is healthy to catch feelings for an outlaw, arms-dealing biker whose name is Sugar?"
"If he's the right guy, yeah," she said, shrugging. "Peyton, in what world would you have pictured me with an ex-con who had spent most of his life as a vicious loanshark enforcer? I mean, come on. We don't get control over this kind of thing."
"The Mallicks and Rivers will freak out if they hear about this."
"We aren't going to tell them, babe. You know you can trust us. At least until we have to tell them. If we have to tell them."
"If it gets serious," I clarified.
"Exactly," she agreed. "If it turns out that a month from now, you realize you were really just addicted to his third arm, no harm, no foul. We don't want to get that testosterone all stirred up for no reason. But you can come to us. You can come to me. I get how strange this must be for you. Sometimes, it helps to talk it out. That's all I am saying."
"I'm the only number saved into his contacts," I blurted out, feeling foolish as a schoolgirl with a crush.
"Really?" she asked, smile warm. "That's good, right?"
"I told him that if he falls in love with me, I'm gone."
She snorted at that. "Of course you did."
"He believed me," I told her as she threw an arm around my waist to lead me back inside.
"No, he didn't," she said, sure, so sure that I almost believed her too.
Almost.
"Wait," I screamed at Sugar a few hours later. Screamed because the music was blaring.
I ran across my apartment toward the stereo sitting in the open bathroom window, speakers facing outward. Sugar followed me in as I watched the stopwatch count down on my phone.
At eight-fifty-nine on the dot, I flicked off the stereo and closed the window.
"The fuck was that?" he asked, watching me with drawn-together brows.
"I have this asshole neighbor," I informed him, jabbing my finger to the window across the courtyard. "He calls the cops on tenants at least a dozen times a month."
"How many times he call on you?"
"Eight. And counting," I said, leading him back out of the bathroom.
"So you blast music until the noise ordinance kicks in?" he asked, impressing me with how fast he put two and two together.
"A couple times a month," I agreed. "With permission from the other neighbors. He still calls sometimes, but the cops just come and shake their heads at me, reminding me that by nine, I had to quiet down. Eli said he isn't going to renew his lease, but he still has three months left."
"So you decided to make it as unpleasant as possible for him."
"I aim to be a nuisance to society," I declared with a smile.
He smirked at that, his gray eyes a bit, I don't know, sweet? Could eyes be sweet? If they could, his were.
"So how did dinner go? Still fit into your pants, I see."
"Shane cut me off after three pieces of garlic bread," I told him, knowing I was still pouting about it.
"That fuck," Sugar agreed with me, smiling, reaching to grab my hips, pulling me against him.
"Right?" I agreed.
"I wouldn't cut off your garlic bread."
"Hey, if I made it, no one can cut me off."
"So maybe you won't make it."
"Been taking cooking classes?" I asked, smiling at the idea.
"Maybe I've been thinking about taking this out of this apartment. And to Famiglia."
"Famiglia?" I asked, feeling my belly leap a bit at the idea. Because he meant a date. An actual date.
"Yeah, they have garlic bread," he informed me as though I didn't know.
"No shit, Sherlock. But why would we go there?"
"We got to eat," he said, shrugging it off. Like it wasn't a big deal. But it was a big deal. At least to me. "Speaking of leaving the apartment, what are you doing tomorrow?"
"Work," I supplied.
"Before that," he asked, knowing I only worked nights. At my head shake, his hands slid from my hips to my ass, sinking in. "Want to learn about those guns you asked about?"
"Ah, hell yes," I said, without thinking. Because, well, hell yes. "I will look badass with a gun. But don't be trying to pass off lady guns on me. I want something cool."
"Tell you what... I will let you pick. From the vault."
"At the compound? Are you allowed to do that?"
"So long as I don't give you the code, sure."
"Can I shoot one?" I asked.
"Not at the compound, but yeah. If you get up early, there is a spot we can drive to. It's a bit out of the way. And you'll need to drive," he said, looking pained at the idea. "There's not a lot of ways to conceal multiple guns on a bike," he explained.
"How early is early?" I asked, never having been a morning person.
"Six?"
"Ah, yeah,
I'm gonna have to hop on the Nope train to Fuckthatville on that one."
He chuckled at that, the sound gliding over my insides in a too-good way, the vibrating from his chest moving into my own as well. "Fine. Seven. But it can't be later. You won't get back to work on time."
"Fiiiine," I agreed with a sigh as he pushed me back against the counter, hopping me up until my ass was on it. His body pressed into my knees until my legs spread to his sides. "ALEXA!" I yelled, making him jerk backward, eyes comically confused. "Play my Sexy playlist!" I kept yelling. "What? Alexa is a kinky bitch; she likes being yelled at," I informed him as a slow, bluesy song came on.
"You're a piece of work," he declared, but was smirking. "Why music at all?"
"Savvs is sleeping in the guest room. I learned this morning that we apparently woke her up with our fucking last night. And I know you don't know this, but Savea sleeps like the dead. So... we need some buffer."
"Some buffer, so when I do this," he said, pressing his fingers between my legs, "and you do that," he agreed when I moaned, slamming my head back into the top cabinets, "she doesn't hear?"
"Y...yeah," I agreed as he started working my clit.
"You might want to turn her up then," he informed me as he suddenly pulled me down, turned me, and shoved me over the island.
His hands went for my waistbands, dragging them down over my ass, then my thighs, until my ass was bared to him, his hands kneading the flesh for a moment before his fingers slipped between, running over my slick cleft, then shoving inside my pussy, making me cry out.
Then, yeah, I demanded Alexa get louder as I heard a zip and the whoosh of pants hitting the floor, the crinkle of the condom wrapper.
He moved in behind me, his cock sliding against my cleft until I was writhing back into him before slamming deep, claiming every inch of me.
"Fuck," I hissed, hands grabbing the end of the island as he started to fuck me, hard, fast, wild.
"So fuckin' tight," he growled, his hand moving forward to slide down my belly, then work my clit until I was mindless with the need for release.
Then I lost his fingers, his hand moving backward.
I had no idea why until a second later, when I felt his thumb pressing against my ass for a moment before pushing inside, claiming something he hadn't yet.
His other hand came up, grabbing me at my wrist, pulling backward. "Work your clit for me," he demanded, pushing it between my thighs before releasing it so his hand could go to my shoulder, holding on as he fucked my pussy at the same pace while his thumb primed my ass. "Tell me you want me to fuck your ass," he demanded, voice rough.
And, god, I did.
Almost as a rule, anal just wasn't my favorite. It was okay. Just not something I could claim I craved.
But right then, with him? I was craving it.
I wanted it like I wanted to keep breathing.
"I want you to fuck my ass," I told him, my voice sounding so needy that I almost didn't recognize it.
On a growl, I lost his thumb as his cock pulled from my pussy, the proof of my need dripping down my thigh as he did so before he slid it back and up, pressing against my ass for a long moment. Until I was pushing back against it, demanding it. Only then did he press forward. But not hard and rough as I had come to expect from him, slow and steady, allowing my body to adjust to the invasion that I hadn't exaggerated the size of when talking to the girls earlier.
"Oh my god," I whimpered when he was buried to the hilt, the pressure inside so intense that it was almost painful, the clawing need for him to move, to give me friction, to drive me over the edge already. "Fuck me," I demanded when he just stayed frustratingly still within me. "Please," I added, not one for begging, but beyond reason at that point.
"Love the sound of you begging for my cock, baby," he growled, his free hand going between my legs, pushing mine away, and taking over himself as he slowly started to fuck my ass.
It wasn't long until my body was ready for it, for him to fuck me harder, faster, drive me up to the very edge.
Seeming to feel me teetering there, his thumb moved to my clit as his two fingers thrust inside me, turning, and raking relentlessly over my G-spot.
And that was it.
I saw white as the orgasm barreled through my system, seeming to bounce off of each point of contact at the same time, making my legs give out, making my moans become almost painful cries as he just kept fucking me with his fingers and cock, dragging it out until I was completely spent, a boneless thing draped over the counter.
Only then did he plant deep and come.
Afterward, he folded forward, his front pressing into my back, his arms braced beside me, his head in my neck.
"Jesus fuckin' Christ," he hissed, sounding as awestruck as I was feeling.
That was cheesy, that word.
Awestruck.
But there was no other word to describe it.
"You alright?" he asked several long minutes later when I still hadn't spoken, still hadn't been able to get any of my limbs to follow orders and start working again. "Too much?" he asked when all I managed was some unintelligible rumbling sound.
"No," I managed after a long second.
"No, you're not alright?" he asked, lifting up slightly, voice dipped in concern. "Or no, it wasn't too much?" he asked, getting fully onto his feet, slowly pulling his cock out of me, then reaching down, dragging me up, turning me, pushing me back against the counter to look at me. His gray eyes, yeah, they had the same concern as his voice.
That, well, that was new for me.
The concern.
The guys giving a shit.
Aside from the Rivers and Mallicks, of course.
But that was different.
This? This was new. Foreign.
And good.
God, it felt so good to know someone gave a shit.
"Yes, it was too much. But in a good way," I added when he almost look stricken for a second. "My legs are Jell-O," I added, making him smile.
"Think they can hold you up for a minute while I deal with this," he said, not gesturing, but I knew he meant the condom.
"They will do their best," I agreed, but grabbed the counter just in case as he moved away.
He walked back a moment later, stopping in front of me, stooping down to snag my pants and panties.
He looked up at me then.
Eyes warm.
Smile warm.
Everything warm.
And it did something to me in kind.
It made a slow-moving warm feeling move across my chest.
And I knew then.
I was in so, so much trouble.
"Where's my reward?" he asked when my pants were back in place.
"Your reward?"
"Better have smuggled it out for me. 'Cause I can't take back that orgasm," he said, eyes twinkling.
The cannoli.
"Please, like I would forget something as important as food," I said, smiling as I moved past him, going into the fridge to get the plate of two of them out.
"Go on," he said a moment later, catching me watching him eat.
"Go ahead, what?"
"I know your ass wants to make some blowjob jokes right now," he said, already knowing me too well.
So then I did.
Until I ran out of them.
And the food was gone.
When Savea came out of her room a while later, making a bleary-eyed trip to the bathroom, not even seeming to notice us, we finally realized the night was over.
So Sugar did his chin-snag rough goodbye kiss thing.
And was gone.
I was just climbing into bed after wiping down the kitchen area when my phone beeped on my nightstand.
"Seven."
Like I could forget.
TWELVE
Sugar
"Another night?" Adler asked when I walked into the clubhouse. "With the mermaid," he added when I closed the door. "She better know what ya two got going on. Unless," he said
, looking at me for a long minute. "Ya don't know what ya got going on either."
"Don't," I demanded, shaking my head as I went for the bar.
"Don't what? Say the truth?" he asked, smirking at my discomfort. "Ya have never been a one-woman man. Least since I've known ya. If ya didn't expect some ribbing over this, ya was sadly mistaken."
"We're just... hanging out," I supplied, not even believing it myself.
"Yeah? Every night? Heard ya tell Virgin she cooked for ya too."
"What, did Lo sic you on me?"
"Not sure I get the appeal of the same fuck night after night, but I imagine I could get behind a woman who cooks. Never had a home-cooked meal until Ross got shacked up with Addy. Ever been to a real, American, home-cooked Thanksgiving? It makes a man think he could give all the skirt-chasing up if she knows how to make mashed potatoes and stuffing from scratch."
I'd once had Easter dinner with my mother. But never one of the big holidays. Christmas or Thanksgiving. And, let's face it, not a single man in any of the compounds I had ever been in had any skill at cooking - Repo aside, though he never made us holiday meals. My father once made me boxed mashed potatoes and Stovetop stuffing. It was about the only reference I had when it came to those traditional side dishes.
Maybe I should ask Peyton to make me the real shit.
That was what went through my mind.
And that was how I knew how fucked I was.
"Is Reign here tomorrow?" I asked, watching as Adler shook his head at me, but his eyes were looking for answers.
"Nah. Cash. Why?"
Cash was better. Reign might not let me get away with taking Peyton into the safe. "She wants to learn to shoot a gun," I supplied.
"Hold up," he said, closing his eyes. "Just let me picture that for a minute."
"Knock that shit off," I demanded, feeling something uncurl in my gut that I had never felt before, that I didn't even recognize at first. Possessiveness.
"Why?" he asked, smirk sly. "'Cause she's yours? If she's yours, ya gotta claim that shit."
Adler was a shit-stirrer.
I'm not sure anyone figured that out right at first, but he liked pushing buttons when he found them. Or maybe it wasn't that he liked it per se, but that he couldn't help himself. Like the urge to pick at a scab or run your tongue over a broken tooth, even though you knew you shouldn't, you couldn't resist the urge.
Sugar (The Henchmen MC Book 12) Page 17