Sugar

by Lydia Michaels

  I pulled my hand free. “You’ve called me a bitch a few times now.”

  “I said bitchy.”

  “And before?”

  “I was drunk and out of line.”

  “No, this was when you were trying to apologize in the hall. You were sober.”

  He smiled, and something shifted as if a veil came down. “I’m sorry.”

  And I had been a bitch to him, so really, I shouldn’t expect more than the apology I already received. “I’m sorry I was a bitch to you.”

  “I get why you’re not interested.”

  “You do?”

  “Sure. You want to focus on school and work—”

  “Please don’t use finger quotes.”

  “Whatever. You have a job, and I was distracting you from that, getting you all hot and bothered before your business appointments.”

  I laughed, refusing to acknowledge his arrogant assumption. “Again, the finger quotes aren’t necessary.”

  “I know, but I like using them. They make conversation more fun. Like let’s say you had an appointment, but I stopped by your place ten minutes before you had to go. Let’s assume we start talking and, of course, it turns into bickering, and I suddenly—” Finger quotes. “—kiss you. That can’t be conducive to the sort of—” Finger quotes. “—work environment you’re trying to create.”

  “You’re a jerk.”

  He laughed. “Why? I’m just laying out a hypothetical situation.”

  “Hypothetical because it’ll never happen?”

  “Oh, it’ll happen.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Does anyone ever tell you no?”

  “All the time, but eventually, I get a yes. Especially from women. It starts out slow. Mmm, yesss… Then it gets a little more enthusiastic. Yes… Yes!” He used finger quotes to emphasize each impersonated female cry. “And then it’s all about giving her what I knew she wanted from the beginning.”

  “Which is?”

  “To be taken away. Life’s stressful. Sex is an escape. I can be that for … people.”

  “You have problems.” He thought he could be that for me, but that wasn’t how I operated. I found escape in other ways—surrender wasn’t one of them. “And you’ve reached your finger quote quota for the year.”

  “But you’re curious.”

  “About what?” I laughed. “Sleeping with you? God, no!”

  He grumbled and refilled his wine glass, then grimaced as he took a long swallow. “We gotta get you some better wine.”

  “Leave my wine selection alone. I think it’s good.” I refilled my glass, finishing off the bottle.

  “It tastes like my grandmother’s perfume.”

  “And you drank that?”

  “No, but when she walks into a room after Sunday mass, it’s strong enough to choke a horse. It sticks in your throat until Monday.”

  “You know, at first I imagined you were charming. I don’t think I’ve ever been more wrong about a guy.”

  He raised his glass. “That’ll teach you to make assumptions. So, what do you say we watch a movie? I have a great one about this girl who’s house sitting, and something goes wrong with the alarm system, so she calls the company. When the rep gets there, they figure it out, but then the boiler breaks, and she takes off all her—”

  “Are you describing porn?”

  “I believe the appropriate term is adult film.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t say that with finger quotes.”

  “I wanted to, but I was afraid you’d bitch at me again. And I’m told I have to work on my charm, so I’m trying to not piss you off.”

  I suddenly realized I’d been smiling since the moment I walked into his home. It was strange to be so at ease with someone I mostly didn’t like. In the beginning, his attention had rattled me, but now… Something changed. We had … chemistry. I was having fun joking around with him, and in a way, I didn’t want it to end.

  With only a few sips of wine left, I glanced at the clock. “If you really want to watch a movie, we can. But I have to go home after that.”

  “Why, you got a hot date?”

  “Do I look like I’m going anywhere tonight?”

  He eyed my sweats and sloppy hair. “You’d look hot in a sack. How would I know what you have planned?”

  “I’m off tonight, but I do have to get up early tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow’s Saturday.”

  “So?”

  “So, do you have class?”

  “No, but you made me eat that second piece of pizza, and there’s no way I’m missing my workout.”

  His eyes rolled dramatically. “I can’t talk to you for the next three minutes. Come on. Let’s pick out a movie.”

  I followed him into the den. “Why can’t you talk to me?”

  “Because you won’t like what I say. Thriller or action?”

  “Neither. Romantic comedy or drama. What were you going to say?”

  He tossed some pillows around and searched for the remote. “I’m not watching a drama. I’ll do a comedy, but not a romantic one. And I can’t say it, because your whole gym comment proved you have screwed up girl thinking and that means I might upset you and you might start to do other girly things like cry or get all bitchy again.”

  I grabbed the remote off the cushion as he lifted another pillow. “I won’t cry. Say it.”

  “No.” He snatched the remote.

  I scoffed. “Pussy.”

  His head whipped around and he smiled. “Did you just call me a pussy?”

  “Yeah. I don’t use girly terms like—” Finger quotes. “chicken.”

  “Oh, you are a bitch. Fine. I was going to say how stupid it is that girls can’t eat two slices of pizza without developing some big guilt complex. Like that’s going to make you fat. You’re a twig. I hate that shit and most guys feel the same way. Just eat and shut up about it.”

  I had plenty to say, but my lips wouldn’t move.

  “Ah, fuck. Are you going to cry?”

  “No.” But I did want to punch him in the dick.

  “Don’t get all sensitive. I prefer you bitchy.”

  Oh, I could be a bitch. If he only knew how much…

  “First of all, I’m not going to cry. I just needed a second to process everything you said. Second, I don’t work out for anyone but myself. It’s a great stress reliever, and I use it as an outlet when I’m tense. And third, I ate the second piece, so shut the fuck up about my eating habits.”

  “You know, there are other outlets for stress relief—”

  “Oh, my God! Do you ever think of anything but sex?”

  “I’m just saying, my door’s closer than the gym.”

  “If you’re such a sex god, why don’t I ever see any women at your place?”

  “Maybe I take my business elsewhere.”

  I snatched the remote back and plopped on the couch. “I’m sure you do.”

  He sat beside me and stole the remote again. “I have plenty of sex. Way more than you.”

  “Well, I don’t doubt that.”

  He turned and gave me a questioning glance. “When’s the last time someone gave you something worth thinking about?”

  “I got flowers yester—”

  “No, I mean something that made you scream in a good way.”

  The last time I ordered someone to make me scream. “It’s been a while.”

  “Why, though? You’re beautiful, sort of fun. Are you going through some kind of celibacy thing on purpose?”

  “Maybe I’m trying to graduate from ‘sort of fun’ to something that’s actually flattering. Let’s just say I’m picky and it’s not worth my time if it’s not done my way.”

  “So you haven’t had good sex.”

  I twisted to face him. “I’ve had incredible sex, but if everyone did it that good, it wouldn’t be incredible. Trust me, I’ve had good sex.”

  “How good?”

  “Great.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Meh,
I don’t believe you.”

  I scoffed, and folded my arms, then scoffed again. “Well, lucky for you, I don’t give a dirty fuck if you believe me or not.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Put on a damn movie.”

  He chuckled. “One day you’ll give a dirty fuck. And I’ll give it right back.” He shut off the lamp and hit play.

  “What the hell is this?”

  “Shh… You don’t want to miss the backstory, that’s what makes it hot.”

  “Oh. My. God. I’m not watching porn with you!”

  “Just a few minutes.”

  I reached for the remote, and he jerked his hand out of reach.

  “Give it.”

  “Five minutes, then we can watch whatever you want.”

  “Noah!” I stretched over him, but his damn long arms were like telephone poles. “Change it!”

  “It’s a good one. Chicks like the ones with a plot.”

  That was it. I locked in on his nipple with my thumb and knuckle and pinched hard. “Shut it off!”

  “Ow! Fuck! Okay! Okay!”

  The remote fell to the floor, and I let go. Bad acting and crappy lines played on the surround system as I tried to change the movie. “How the hell do you work this thing?”

  “I think you dislocated my areola.”

  “You’ll live.” I finally found the source button, and the screen switched to something appropriate.

  “I really think you did some damage.”

  I glanced over my shoulder to find him peeking under the collar of his T-shirt. My lips twitched. There was something so adorable about him in that moment. I pictured myself straddling his thighs, removing his shirt, and kissing his nipple all better.

  Good God! I needed to get the hell out of there.

  I placed the remote on the coffee table. “Seeing as you’re busy with other things, I think I’ll just head home.”

  He dropped his shirt and grabbed my arm, taking me off guard as he yanked me to the sofa and pinned me there.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “You pinched mine, now I get to pinch yours.”

  “Uh, no. That’s not how this works.”

  “Chicken.”

  “Yeah, that’ll convince me.”

  “Pussy?”

  “You wish. Get off.”

  “Fair is fair, Avery.”

  “You stole the remote, hijacked the television and put on pornography, so I pinched your nipple. That’s fair.”

  His weight settled over me, silently warning he wasn’t going to let me up until I gave in. “Fine. Over the shirt for ten seconds. That’s it. And I’ll be sure not to whine like a baby, the way you did.”

  He took my wrists and yanked them over my head, pressing them into the couch pillows. I became hyper-aware of the span of flesh now showing just above the waistband of my pants.

  “Don’t move.”

  I rolled my eyes, so not used to being bossed around when it came to this. “Oh, okay.”

  He sat up and stared at my chest, but didn’t touch me.

  “Are you gonna do it?”

  “I will. Be patient.”

  I huffed and rolled my eyes again. “Don’t forget, I have to be at the gym in the morning. Aaaannnny day now. Whenever you’re ready.”

  “You talk too much.”

  “Well, what’s the hold-up?”

  “I’m waiting for your nipples to get hard.”

  I snorted. “What do you think you have, magic laser beam eyes? Sorry to disappoint, but they’re not going to get—”

  “Shh…” He rocked his hips into mine.

  “Hey! That’s not what we agreed to.”

  “Quiet.” He rocked again, and the base of my spine tightened. His gaze lifted to mine, and he smirked. “Fucking bingo.”

  “Someone notify the press.”

  He leaned over me. “This sweatshirt’s ridiculously thick.”

  “So?”

  “So your nipples must be really hard if I can see them.”

  “You’re a twelve-year-old.”

  “Don’t scream.” His hands moved so fast I wasn’t prepared as his long fingers pinched down harder than clamps.

  I sucked a sharp breath through my nose and gave into the pain. The slow burn transcended into pleasure, and my body reflexively arched into his. My eyes threatened to close, but I forced them to stay open, holding his challenging glare, pretending what he was doing had no effect on me.

  “Nine…” he counted, giving me a smile that would destroy a less disciplined woman. “Ten.” He released my nipples and sat back.

  Damn him. The second he let go I felt his touch all over again, the sharp twinge of sensation traveling to the tips of my breasts, making me itchy for more. If he were anyone else I’d make him strip and eat my pussy wearing only butterfly clamps until I came, but he was Noah, and that wasn’t how this worked.

  “Happy now? Can you please get off?”

  “Sure, but maybe I should get you off first. Cheeks are awfully flushed, Avery.”

  I shoved his chest and pulled my legs out from under him. “I’m going home. Thanks for dinner.”

  “I thought we were going to watch a movie.”

  “Turns out your taste sucks.” I walked to the door.

  “Not true,” he called, still sitting on the couch. “I like you.”

  “Well, find another girl to like.”

  “Nope! Soon we’re gonna be more than friends. I’m gonna have you, Avery Johansson. Just wait.”

  I let myself out and smiled as I crossed the hall. He wouldn’t get his wish, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy his perseverance while it lasted.

  As it turned out, Noah Wolfe was also “sort of fun”.

  Before climbing into bed, I stood in front of my dresser mirror and stripped off my sweatshirt. My nipples, puckered and deliciously sore, tightened in the cool air. God, I missed sex.

  Visions of past experiences mingled with moments from tonight, and again, I was reminded of how unfitting Noah was for me. Yanking open a drawer, I grabbed a T-shirt and changed for bed.

  That metaphorical shelf, the cluttered one with old memories I rarely examined, seemed to call to me, and soon enough I was picking through dusty recollections that were better left alone.

  Meandering thoughts wandered through my mind, taking me back to where I used to live and how my life used to be. The musty scent of our trailer seemed so embedded in my head that my nose twitched as the walls of my present home fell away, replaced by dingy wallpaper and dirt smeared windows. I could feel the crusty shag carpeting against my knees and taste the faded cigarette smoke lacing the air. And suddenly I was home again.

  * * *

  I cowered in the corner as my mother waled on Kenny with a book in the next room. We were all teenagers, and in my mom’s head that made us each fair game for her belligerent drunken tirades, which usually ended with someone getting struck.

  Kenny, although closest in age to me, was bigger and could take a wallop. He often took the brunt of her abuse to protect me. If I kept quiet, she might forget I was still home.

  “I told you it was gettin’ late and now look what you’ve done!”

  “The bus was early!” my brother screamed. “I left the same time I always do.”

  “I ain’t got no way to take you to school, Kenneth! The truant officer’s gonna be back.”

  “Let him come! I ain’t ever gonna graduate anyway!”

  The book hit the wall, and I flinched.

  “Get outside! Avery Dean, I gotta get the neighbor to drive your brother to school. Do not miss your bus. You hear?”

  “Y—yes, Momma.” The front door slammed, and I quickly gathered my backpack, rushing out the door the moment they were out of sight. But I didn’t go to no bus stop. I had bigger, more important things to do.

  I rushed down the back path and hopped the fence, moving quick, so the neighbor’s pit bull didn’t cause a fuss. My heart raced fas
ter with each yard I cut through until I finally made it.

  The sight of the rusted trailer with its siding held on by dry rotted strips of duct tape calmed my racing heart. He said he kept it that way, so people didn’t suspect he had anything nice enough to steal inside, which made him smart.

  I knocked on the rickety screen door, and it rattled against the frame.

  “Who is it?”

  “Avery.”

  The door flung open, and Gavin looked down at me. My gaze traveled up his body to his bare, muscled chest. He was so strong yet so delicate. “Come in.”

  I quickly slipped inside and tossed my books on the cluttered bench seat. “I have the form, and I forged my mom’s signature.”

  “It’s seven-thirty in the morning, Avery Dean.”

  Wringing my hands, I gave him a pleading look. “Please, Gavin. The deadline’s Friday and this is my only hope of ever getting out of here. I’ll do whatever you want. I just have to get it turned in.”

  His scowl softened. “If this doesn’t work, you have other options.”

  This had to work. He was leaving, and I’d never survive this place alone. “Please.”

  He sighed. “Go ahead. The computer’s on. Just wiggle the mouse.”

  Relieved, I smiled and rushed to the back bedroom where he kept his desktop. Gavin was the only one in Blackwater who had such technology. He was also the only one I trusted, being that he’d always been tight with my oldest brother, Drew—the only sibling to ever show me kindness.

  I jostled the mouse and the screen lit. There it was, the scholarship essay that was going to get me the hell out of this shithole town once and for all.

  When I’d first shown Gavin my scribbled draft, he tried not to be too critical, but we were never able to hide things from each other.

  “You can’t send this. Let me toy with it for a while, and it has to be typed.” He’d spent weeks helping me polish my essay until we were both confident it might win.

  Most guys wouldn’t offer such help, but Gavin was different. He didn’t make me blow him or fuck him for his assistance either. He was a little more complicated than that. In exchange for his help on that essay and many other things, I let him touch me, put his mouth on me, fondle and pleasure me.