Sugar and Spice

by Shandi Boyes

  His secret didn't tarnish my opinion of him. It made him even more endearing. It would have taken an immense amount of courage to walk away from his family as he did, but the way he moved past the hurt is even more courageous. He thinks he's guarded and reserved. I think he is full of shit. He doesn't need words to express himself. His eyes speak on his behalf, and for what they miss, his empathetic heart fills in. Tonight proves this without a doubt.

  "Is he going to press charges?" I ask Cormack when he returns to my side. I try to keep need out of my tone. My attempts are half-assed. I love when Cormack blushes, but when his cheeks are reddened with jealousy. . . my god.

  Have you ever tried to vacate a lake minus clothing? The chances of escaping with your modesty intact are slim, to say the least, so imagine the challenge when you add a spotlight to the mix. Thank god Cormack is a skilled negotiator or I might have left the lake with more than a cold. He didn't just demand Ryan switch off his spotlight; he made him turn around as well.

  “No, but he’s going to milk it for all it’s worth.” You could mistake Cormack’s reply as snarky, but his tone doesn’t allude to that.

  “Do you guys have a history?” I lean into him, pretending I am cold. I’m not. I’m just using it as an excuse to get closer to him.

  After answering my silent demand by tugging me into his side, he half-murmurs, half-nods. “Hmm. Somewhat. Do you remember me telling you about Isaac’s time in the underground fighting circuit?”

  He waits for me to nod before nudging his head to Ryan. “I managed a few fights for him as well.”

  “No way.” My reply is eccentric and loud—loud enough for Ryan to glance our way.

  Spotting the intimate way our bodies are intermingled, Ryan's dark brow arches high. Ryan is a couple of years older than me, and although I know who he is, he's more an acquaintance than a friend. It wasn't from a lack of trying on my behalf. Ryan and his friends had all the freshman in a tizzy his final year of high school; he just preferred to fly under the radar than bask in the ambiance. Once he graduated, he was practically a ghost. I see more of Brax than I do him, more because of Brax's sweet tooth than anything.

  After sliding his notepad into his trouser pocket, Ryan raises his eyes to Cormack. “You ready?”

  My suspicious eyes snap to Cormack when a deep rumble rattles his chest. His jaw is taut, and his eyes are slit. Although I caught snippets of their conversation, I'm at a loss on what has caused his response. From my vantage, he and Ryan appeared friendly.

  “You’re seriously going through with it?” Cormack asks Ryan, his words forced through clenched teeth.

  Ryan smiles a grin of a man who has nothing to lose. “Of course I am. It’s not personal, Cormack. It is just my moral obligation to the public.”

  He’s lying. If the blistering smile on his face isn’t a good enough indication, the absolute hilarity in his deep timbre is icing on the cake.

  Pretending he hasn't seen the slew of silent questions streaming from my eyes, Cormack guides me into the passenger seat of his Bentley. His chivalrous ways are growing on me. He isn't opening my door with the hope it will open my legs; he is doing it because he is a gentleman. My daddy always said it would only take one man to outdo my dislike of chivalry. I never believed him. I should have. My dad was never wrong.

  “What’s going on?” I ask Cormack when he slips into the driver’s seat.

  He fastens his seatbelt before his eyes drift to me. "Ryan is escorting us home to ensure we don't participate in any more illegal activities during our drive."

  I laugh. I shouldn’t. It is a horrible thing for me to do. But you didn’t hear the sheer disgust in Cormack’s tone. Anyone would swear he was told to drink pickled water for the way he is acting.

  “Don’t be too hard on him. It’s probably for the best.”

  My laughter switches to a moan when Cormack’s eyes snap to mine. His concerned gaze is as cute as his lusty one. “Are you . . . worried?” His eyes say more than his words ever could.

  "God, no," I reply without pause. "I wasn't referring to me." I rake my fingernails along his inner thigh. The material of his trousers isn't as refined as his suits, but his muscles still bunch in the same manner. "If Ryan didn't arrive when he did, who knows how far things would have gone."

  Cormack emits a delicious, panty-wetting growl. “You’re not making matters better.”

  My lips purse as I twist my torso to face him. “Who said I was trying?”

  Even with an unmarked patrol car following our every move and the roads slippery from a frantic downpour, we make it back to Cormack’s residence at a record-setting pace. The sexual tension crackling between us is more volatile than the lightning streaking across the pitch black night. It is a crazy sensation, one extremely hard to put into words.

  Our chemistry has been off the charts since we met, but tonight catapulted it to a level I never thought possible. I'm not shy. I've never been one to hold back an emotion or fade into the background, but for the first time in longer than I can remember, butterflies are fluttering in my stomach. I wouldn't necessarily say they are nervous ones—they seem more in excitement than anything—but it is a weird, unknown feeling all the same.

  It is funny how one person can change everything. First, it was my dad, then my aunt, and now Cormack. I guess that's why I am a little edgy? I've never been so upfront with someone who doesn't have the same blood as me.

  While I am being forthright, I’ll admit there is a little niggle of worry in the back of my that the flames will be doused the instant we act on our attraction. Sometimes the actual event is anticlimactic. I doubt that will be the case with Cormack, but I will be devastated if it is.

  The headlights following us the past thirty miles disappear when Cormack pulls his Bentley down the cobblestone driveway of his home. Although Cormack's tight shoulders slacken when Ryan leaves, his grip on the steering wheel remains firm. The first time we traveled this route, I couldn't understand his hesitation. Now I'm fully clued in.

  Cormack’s nervous traits are cute, but the circumstances behind them suck. If only he could see the man I do, then he’d never have a care in the world.

  Even though rain is hammering the windscreen, Cormack pulls his vehicle into a detached three-car garage a short stroll from his home. He doesn’t do this to protect his pride and joy from the rain; he is ensuring I know I am free to leave at any time. My car is parked in an open bay. I can see my keys in the ignition. If I want to leave, he will let me go without protest. That makes me even more determined to stay.

  While my butterflies dwindle to barely a flutter, Cormack jogs to my side of his car to assist me out. I issue my praise minus an eye roll this time around.

  After a quick swallow, Cormack’s wintry blue eyes lock with mine. “Would you like a nightcap?”

  The stutter of his words shouldn’t be cute, but they have me teetering on the edge of orgasmic bliss. His tone could only sound deeper if he dug a hole to China and stashed his voice box inside.

  “I’d love one.” I aim to keep desire out of my tone but fail.

  Our trek from the garage to his house is frantic but full of laughter. The rain is torrential, drenching us head to toe in under five seconds, but that isn’t the reason for our manic chuckles. It is from Cormack losing a shoe in a sinkhole halfway down his driveway.

  “Leave it. I’ll get it in the morning.” Cormack has to shout for me to hear him over the thunder clapping above our heads.

  "No way. You paid full price!”

  The sludge dripping from his shoe when I cradle it to my chest like it is a priceless treasure ruins my shirt, but the broad grin spreading across Cormack's face makes it worthwhile.

  We charge up the stairs of his home side by side — our steps mimicking a horde of elephants scampering away from a trapeze line.

  “Oh my god. That was nuts. I haven’t seen a storm like this in years.” I grimace when the sludge from my shoes leaves mud on the wood-lined patio.r />
  Realizing no amount of scrubbing will remove the gunk wedged between my heels, I remove my shoes, then set them beside the bristled mat of the front door. Seeing my heels next to Cormack's welcome mat does weird things to my insides. I am saturated from the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes but am as giddy as a kid on Christmas Eve—I'm all sorts of crazy.

  The chances of me being thrown into an asylum triple when my eyes lock in on an enticing visual. Even though Cormack is dressed, he may as well not be. His thin cotton shirt looks like a second skin, and his black trousers look like leather pants—rockstar tight leather pants. His drenched form entices a whole new wetness, but not from the weather.

  After permitting my eyes unlimited ogling, I lift them to Cormack's face. Big mistake. He's not blushing for the tenth time this evening or hiding the appetizing visual from my perverted gaze; he is merely returning the gawk—thickening crotch and all.

  The tension between us grows, electrifying faster than my lust-fired mind can comprehend. My morals take a step back when I push off my feet and race across the foyer. By the time I reach Cormack, I am utterly breathless. The twenty or so steps I took aren’t to blame for my deprivation of oxygen—it is Cormack’s boyish grin.

  Laughing at my frantic hop, skip, jump launch into his arms, Cormack catches me midair. We’ve had over six hours of foreplay. It is time for the chips to be cashed in.

  Our kiss is desperate and hungry, revealing our mutual torment all night long. It’s somewhat unfair how well Cormack can kiss, completely destroying the control I prefer having.

  People leave themselves open for manipulation when an exchange in power occurs. Although I trust Cormack would never take advantage of the situation, the feeling is still foreign. I love my independence, but if Cormack asked me to hand the reins to him right now, I would, no questions asked. That’s a scary notion.

  As our tongues dance in perfect sync, Cormack backs me up against the wall of his living room. He hangs heavily between my legs, our drenched forms easing the frantic grinding of my pelvis.

  “This isn’t why I brought you here. We can just talk, if you want to?” The hum of his deep timbre vibrates my core. “I’ve got many things to tell you. I just. . . I can’t help myself around you.” Torment rings in his tone. He is as helpless to this crazy, out-of-our-minds union as I am.

  Slanting my head to the side, I give him unlimited access to my neck and collarbone. “I want this, Cormack. So very much.” My voice reveals he isn’t the only one lost in our exchange. The pure joy pumping through my heart makes it feel like an ocean is sitting on my chest. “Why do we need to explain it? Why can’t we just enjoy it? We’re both adults. We’re not hurting anyone.”

  He doesn't caress my neck nearly long enough before he pulls me off the wall. I almost protest until I realize where he is taking us—his master suite. He answered my question in the most robust way—without words. I wish I could explain what his sneaky glances and concealed grins do to me, but wouldn't that weaken their significance? Besides, my heart knows things my mind could never explain, so I'm happy to quit while I am ahead.

  Anticipation of what is about to come smacks into me when we enter Cormack’s bedroom. The palette of his room is rich and manly. It suits him very well. The soft cotton draped across the windows is the color of his golden hair, and the occasional pop of blue on his bedding reminds me of his oceanic eyes. It is welcoming, yet sultry, a perfect reflection of its owner.

  After leading us across the vast space, Cormack places me on the bed. As his lips explore my collarbone, his hands drop to the hem of my shirt. I gasp in anticipation when his hand slips under the damp material. The contrasting temps between his skin and mine are vastly different. He is burning up everywhere, proving he wants this as much as me.

  Every move we make is in sync. Our shirts are the first things to go, both dumped onto the floor next to his bed. Then our eyes share the same appreciative glances. Cormack's body is to die for, tight and compact with a scattering of bumps in all the right places. I could gawk at him for hours and never grow bored.

  “Are you sure?” Cormack asks, glancing at me with troubled eyes.

  His anxiety is pushed aside for thirst when I reply, “I am more than sure. This has been weeks in the making, let’s not put it off for a moment longer.”

  I rise to my elbows. The stiff peaks of my nipples scratch Cormack’s pecs as my lips tickle his earlobe. “If I weren’t dying to have your cock between my thighs, I’d have it in my mouth.”

  My confession starts an avalanche. Hands and lips go in all directions. He kisses me like my words awoke a beast, growling into my mouth as he bites at my lips. He rocks his thick shaft against my core as his big hand cups my jiggling breasts. He takes complete control, leaving me defenseless to his awe-inspiring skill. And I love every fucking minute of it.

  By the time his throbbing crown is nestled between the lips of my pussy, my panties are in shreds on the floor. I am so caught up, I don't recall the removal of my skirt. I am certain Cormack is ambidextrous, as he has no qualms removing my bra with one hand while the other flicks my clit. His skills—my god. We've only been fooling around for ten minutes, and my climax is already on the brink.

  Cormack seeks reassurance without words this time around. He stares down at me, the sweat beading at his temples an indication of the heat between us.

  “Please.” I’m begging, but so be it. I am desperate.

  He answers my plea in the most glorious way, by notching his mouthwatering cock inside me. I call out as my back arches. The feeling of being stretched so wide is excruciating but invigorating at the same time.

  “Concentrate on the sensation, not the pain,” Cormack suggests, reading me with an intimacy no man has ever had.

  As he suckles on my nipple, he withdraws his cock in the same fluid motion. My pussy sucks at him, grateful for his departure, but praying he’ll come back soon.

  With his hungry dedication to my breasts keeping my mind busy, my body doesn’t protest the intrusion as rigorously the second time around. His rocking hips equally stimulate my mind and my pussy.

  It takes another four grinds before the pain subsides enough for me to see the pleasure in our exchange. If I were smart, I should have suggested more foreplay. I’m wet, but the sheer girth of Cormack’s cock should have clued me in.

  The weight of his body pressed against mine and the intimate way we are conjoined triple the inane connection we've had since the day we met. He worships my body the same way he has stimulated my mind the past six weeks. He makes me want to strive for greatness, to accept that there is more to life than succeeding. I feel like a goddess, both cherished and desired.

  Cormack watches me the entire time. His soul-seeking eyes devour me as well as his cock commands my pussy. The intimacy of his eye contact is nearly too much for me to bear, but I understand his need to assess every expression crossing my face, so I maintain contact. Have you ever felt like you’re being wholly consumed? That is what I am feeling right now. This is more than just a simple fuck. It is blinding, mesmerizing, and orgasmic.

  As caught off guard by my climax as me, Cormack stills for the quickest second. If I could work through the sensations commanding every nerve in my body, I’d look into his balk with more diligence. But with wave after wave cresting in my core, I do nothing but moan and shout. It has been far too long since I’ve experienced this.

  I shudder and shake as my body familiarizes itself with the awe-inspiring thrill zooming through it. Cormack continues grinding into me so vigorously, I'm sure my body will be permanently imprinted in his mattress when we are done. His thrusts are so frantic, I'm confident he is about to come at any moment. The veins in his neck flutter uncontrollably as his cock thickens. He is seconds away from detonation.

  I realize I still have a lot to learn about Cormack when his rhythm continues without pause for the next several minutes. The control he has over his body is mesmerizing. My pussy practically strangl
ed his cock during climax, yet he continues, blowing my mind as adeptly as he blew my book boyfriends out of the water.

  I should be staring at him in wonder, but instead, I’m glaring at him like he is an alien. This isn’t fair. He can’t have it all. I’ve been with men nearly as well-equipped as him, but none of them lasted very long. And the ones who did, it was more because they had help. But this is all Cormack. He hasn’t been out of my sight all night, so I’d know if he took anything to help him. I don't care if you are an alpha god, no one is perfect. Cormack cuts it very close, but is there something I'm missing?

  Like he heard my private thoughts, Cormack ups the ante. With one hand on my back, and the other on my hip, he rolls us over. The bite of pain I was feeling earlier snaps back into place when he impales me with his cock even more profoundly. My clit grinds against the yummy V sitting low in his pelvis, and his balls absorb the wetness of my earlier orgasm.

  My wish to unearth his every secret fades into thin air when he locks his eyes with mine. He permits me to take control of our exchange without words, and I accept his challenge in the same manner.

  With my hands balancing on his sweaty pecs, I raise to my knees. My pussy quivers around his magnificent manhood when I slam back down. The gruff groan he releases inspires recklessness. It is throaty and raw and utterly mesmerizing.

  I rise and fall another six times before the tingling sensation in my lower core becomes too intense to ignore.

  “Oh god,” I pant, struggling to overlook the frantic ache of my pussy. Back to back orgasms are fun, but the energy they zap from my body is excruciating.

  When I attempt to slow down, Cormack thrusts his hips upward. The switch of power is precise as he holds on to my sweat-slicked hips, his eyes dropping to watch the magnificence of our conjoined bodies.

  I just discovered his weak spot.