“Why are you holding back?” she asks, shifting on my lap.
“Hmm, I don’t know, maybe because you’ve been hostile toward me ever since I met you. For some unknown reason, I like it. Now, are you going to just sit there, rubbing that perfect ass of yours on my lap, or are you going to let me kiss you?”
She bites on her bottom lip for a brief second before she smiles, and that’s all the inclination I need. Instead of pouncing on her like I want to, I lift one hand from under her shirt and slowly glide it up the column of her neck, reveling in the way her skin feels against my palm. When I cup her cheek, her head leans into my hand ever so slightly. She wants this. Me. How? When did she change her mind about me? I’m not going to think too hard about it, I’m going to indulge myself instead.
Gently, I run my thumb over her lips, slightly pulling on the bottom one before running my hand to the back of her neck. Her hair falls like a golden blanket over the back of my hand, the soft strands adding to the thrill of holding this gorgeous woman in my arms.
One hand is still up her shirt playing with the bottom of her breast, I bring her forward with the other until our mouths are only inches apart. When she leans forward, she balances herself on my shoulders where her hands clasp behind my neck, playing with my short strands of hair. The sensation sends a tingle down my spine, awakening my body from the tips of my toes to the strands of my hair. You would think it would be the woman sitting on my lap that would fire up all my senses, but it’s her touch, because that little caress of her fingers is voluntary. She’s just as much into this powerful force between us as I am.
“Last chance, sugar britches.” I bring her mouth so damn close that there is only a whisper of a breath between us. No protest. Green light. Closing that last bit of space, I seal our mouths together and relax into the pillow behind me, letting my mouth do all the work.
Soft, pliable lips meet mine, exploring at first, and then igniting into a lip lock of pure, unfiltered lust. The back of her neck rests in my strong grip. She’s going nowhere and neither am I by the way her hands start digging into my hair, setting every last synapse on fucking fire.
She shifts on my lap again, this time rubbing against my growing erection. A moan slips from the back of my throat from the friction. Everything about this woman is hard as nails but it’s as if when she’s with me, in this little comfort cocoon we formed, she’s soft, sweet, and playful, a completely different person than the fierce girl I work with.
I like this side of her. She’s like a teddy bear.
Moving my lips across hers, I can’t help but love the way she tastes, the way she smells like cherries, or the way little, soft sounds rise from the back of her throat with each press of my lips against hers. Needing more, I part her lips with my tongue, loving how easily she opens for me. Fuck, yes. Her tongue meets mine, our kiss becoming more intense in a matter of seconds. No longer is she tentative or reserved. Now her entire body is rubbing against mine, knocking my hand from her breast. I hang on to her undulating and mind-altering hip action where she’s rubbing her center against my lengthening cock.
“Fuck that feels good,” I mutter in between kisses.
With every thrust, the strain in my neck grows. I’m not one to blow early, but with Sadie on my lap, her hands sifting through my hair, her mouth doing wicked things to mine, I wouldn’t be surprised if I turned into a two-pump chump.
Her pace starts to quicken, her breathing heavy against my mouth, her hands growing tighter around my head. Is she going to orgasm? Fuck, that would be so hot if she did. Wanting her to let loose, I glide my hand back up her shirt, this time at a quicker pace.
“Oh God,” she quietly moans, her forehead resting against mine for support.
She is straight-up dry humping me right now, riding my boxer-clad cock, and I’m loving every second of it. Needing more, I match every rub of her clit against my cock with a thrust of my hips, intentionally driving it home that I want this just as much as she does and that she doesn’t have to do all of the work.
“Fuck, yes,” I moan.
Shit. I’m going to blow it in my briefs, but if it feels as good as I think it’s going to, I don’t care.
Sweat coats both of our skin, her legs sliding easily against mine from the slickness. Our breaths trying to keep up with one another and our hands now starting to roam.
God, I’m almost there.
“Oh God,” she says louder this time. She’s concentrating on the connection below where she’s rubbing feverously against me, putting out a relentless pace that has my fucking balls tingling with anticipation.
Just a few more . . .
Reaching up to her breast, I’m seconds from finally gripping it, seconds from blowing my load, seconds from falling into a morning bliss, when the front door to her small apartment opens and then slams shut.
As if I’m fire and she just burnt her beautiful clit on me, she jumps off my lap and runs to the bedroom door where she clicks the door shut. In a panic, she turns to me and points to the window. “You have to leave, now.”
“What?” I ask, because let’s face it. The functioning brain isn’t the one in my skull at this moment. My very hard cock, therefore, is still trying to figure out what’s going on. In his present condition, he isn’t that smart.
“Leave, now. You have to go.”
Is she serious?
“What? Why?”
“No time for questions.” She kicks my jeans toward me and says, “You just have to go.”
“Uh.” Looking down at my lap I say, “Kind of have a fucking boner right now.”
“Good for you.” She tosses my shirt at me. Pointing to the window—yes, the window—she says, “Go on. Get out of here.”
“Sadie, are you home?” a voice calls out from the living room.
Panic rises in her eyes. Smilly.
“Do you not want Smilly to see me in here? With a boner?” This time, the smile I give her does not diffuse the situation.
Not even blinking an eye, she answers, “No, I don’t. So, if you could please just leave, that would be great.”
Holding my clothes over my still hard-as-fuck dick, I say, “No.”
“No?” Her eyes nearly pop out of her head. “What do you mean, no?”
“Sadie, are you here?” Smilly calls out. “I want some Doritos, do we still have some?” We were stopped seconds from coming for Doritos? What the hell?
Calling out, Sadie says, “Uh yeah, be right out, just getting changed. Doritos are in the cupboard above the fridge. Remember you hid them from Saddlemire?”
“That’s right, such a fucking pig. Hurry up. I want to watch Rudy. That little football geek starred in my dreams last night. I need to see the real thing.”
“Okay, be right out.” Turning back to me, pleading now, Sadie says, “Please, Andrew.”
God, if she wasn’t so fucking pretty . . .
“Only if you promise me one thing.” Compromise. She wants something and I want something. I think it’s fair.
“What do you want?” She eyes me suspiciously.
“A date. Tonight. Neither of us have to work. I want some one-on-one time with you.”
“A date?”
The knob to the door jiggles. “Hey, why did you lock the door?” Smilly calls out from the other side, knocking on the wood.
“I’m naked.” Sadie panics, her hands going to her bright red face while looking from me to the door.
“So, it wouldn’t be the first time I saw your knockers. Remember I saw them when you got them pierced.”
“Pierced,” I mouth to her. I don’t recall feeling a nipple ring when I thought her tit was an orange.
She holds up a hand to me.
“Just give me a second, I’ll be right there.” She bounces on her toes, obviously holding her breath, waiting for Smilly to give her a little bit of space.
“Oh God, are you jilling off?” Sadie puts her hand on her forehead in distress. “If you’re looking at my co
llection of dick pics just keep it away from your diddling digits. Two hands, Sadie, two fucking hands.”
I snort. I can’t help it, causing Sadie to send daggers my way.
“I’m not . . .” She sighs. “Just give me a second.” Marching her way over to the side of the bed, she pulls me off and starts shoving me toward the window. “Time to go.”
“Hey, hold on a second.” She’s already opening the window and popping the screen. “I didn’t get an answer. I’m not leaving until you agree.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m being ridiculous?” I point to myself. “You’re the one pushing me out the window, mostly naked, with a fucking hard-on casting a shadow over my bare feet. If you don’t want to go on a date with me, I will just go say good morning to Smilly and partake in some Doritos and Rudy.”
Huffing in frustration, Sadie says, “Fine. I’ll go out with you tonight.”
Smiling, I say, “See, that wasn’t too hard.”
“Okay, get out.” She pushes me out the low window but I grip the edges before I fall out. “What are you doing?” she hisses.
“I’m going to need a kiss goodbye as well.”
Exasperated, she grabs my head with such force—I’m afraid I might be a victim of whiplash—and plants a kiss on my lips. Nothing intimate or sexy, just a kiss that an incredibly inappropriate aunt would dole out. It kind of dampens the mood actually. “There, now get out of here.” With one last push, I’m out the window, my clothes scattered across the soil terrain below her window, my dick still standing at attention.
“Hey, I don’t have my shoes.”
“You’ll live,” she calls out.
“And my dick? He still wants to play with you.”
Scanning my tented briefs, she smiles to herself and shakes her head. “Get the hell out of here.”
With that, she shuts the window, leaving me naked, aroused, and as happy as fuck for scoring a date with her. Shoes or no shoes, I’m going to get her to smile a hell of a lot more tonight.
Not bothering to dress myself—because what’s the point really?—I head toward my truck. And that’s when I realize I’m missing one thing . . .
Keys. Shit.
Knowing I have no choice, I try to be as nonchalant as possible as I walk up to their front door, clothes placed in front of my dick because no one wants to be greeted at their front door by a boner; that’s just some creepy shit. I take a deep breath, put on a smile, and knock.
“Got it,” I hear Smilly call out. The minute she opens the door, she scans me up and down and while looking me square in the eyes, she says, “Sadie, I do believe it’s for you.”
“What?” Sadie walks up behind Smilly and the minute her eyes meet mine, they narrow. Fuck, I think I might be kissing that date goodbye. “What the hell are you doing?” she asks between gritted teeth.
Leaning forward, on a whisper, I say, “Uh, you still have my truck keys.”
Her face pales as she realizes her mistake. While she retrieves my keys, I rock back and forth on my feet trying to avoid eye contact with Smilly. Maybe if we don’t look at each other, she won’t notice me. Not exactly sure where to cast my eyes, I take a quick glance at Smilly who has a knowing look on her face. With a twiddle of her finger, she waves. Not wanting to be rude, I wave to her just as Sadie returns, tossing my keys at my chest. She does not look happy.
I put my finger up and start to ask, “Pick you up tonight?” when the door is slammed on my face. “Yeah, sure, eight sounds awesome.” I shrug casually. “See you then. Thanks for the dry-hump session by the way. You can bring my shoes later. Don’t worry, I don’t need them right now.”
Slumping, I do the walk of shame to my truck. Well, it could be worse, she could have kicked me in the nuts after she threw my keys at me.
Here’s to small wins.
Chapter Ten
SADIE
I don’t want to turn around. I want to stand here in front of the door I just slammed in Andrew’s face and slowly disintegrate into the floor.
“So, that was interesting,” Smilly says from one of the recliners.
I squeeze my eyes shut, attempting to turn back the time to where I remembered to give the man his damn keys. I was just so flustered. I didn’t expect Smilly to be home so early. Usually when she spends the night at Saddlemire’s place, she’s there until noon.
Expertly—at least I think it’s expertly—I sidestep Smilly’s comment and take a seat in the recliner next to hers. “Didn’t stay long at Saddlemire’s place today?”
See, perfect avoidance, doesn’t get better than that.
“Oh, so we’re doing that right now? Pretending you didn’t just sneak a guy out of our bedroom window. That’s fine.” Maybe I’m not as stealth as I think. “Saddlemire had to go help his brother this morning, and staying at his place by myself gives me hives, so I came home early. If I would have known there was a special guest here last night, I would have grabbed myself a Boston Kreme donut over at Dunkin’.” Slamming her fist on the arm of the recliner, she says, “Urgh! I should have gotten a donut. Now it’s all I want.” She tosses the Doritos to the side, licks her cheese-coated fingers, and stands from the recliner. “Come on, we’re making a trip to Dunkin’. Mama needs a donut in her mouth.”
Not wanting to argue with Smilly, I slip a light sweatshirt over my head, put on my sandals, and follow behind Smilly to her car. The moment she turns on the car and rolls down her window—hand rolls it down—Alabama starts blasting through her speakers. This girl is all country.
“I’m in a hurry to get things done,” she sings, pulling out of the reserved parking spot. She turns down the music slightly so I can hear her better. “Don’t you just love Alabama? God, they make me want to twiddle myself every time I hear their music.”
“Um, I wouldn’t necessary say I need to twiddle myself, but I do appreciate their music.”
“You’re doing it all wrong if you’re not twiddling yourself to Alabama weekly. Saddlemire and I like to bone to “Take Me Down.” There’s something about that song that really gets my nipples hard. What about you?”
“Uh, yeah, not so much.”
Turning on her blinker, she turns onto Front Street, a straight shot to Dunkin’ Donuts and says, “I think I need a dozen donuts this morning. Do you ever just want to pig out without worrying about what it will tack onto your hips?”
So confused that she’s not grilling me about Andrew, I tread carefully and say, “Wish it all the time.”
“Why can’t our bodies just process things like we want them to? If I want to be a veggie-nut and suck on celery my whole life, my body should be okay with that. If I want to live my life and eat Doritos for breakfast, donuts for lunch, and apple pie for dinner, my body should say, thank you for the nutrients. But no, the little fuckers go and give you love handles.”
Flying into Dunkin’, on two wheels I’m sure of it, she pulls into the drive-thru and asks, “Blueberry cake, Boston Kreme—obvs—strawberry frosted, and glazed?” It’s our typical order.
“Sounds about right. Grab me a medium coffee, too.”
Smilly places our order, rattling it off like a pro, and we both chip in a few bucks to pay. With donuts in hand, coffee in the other, Smilly doesn’t take any time driving to our favorite place where we overlook the Chenango River. Parking near the bend, getting closer than allowed, she backs up and puts the car in park.
“Come on.” She nods her head toward the back of the car where I meet her. Just like every other time we’ve looked over the river, we hop up on the trunk of her car, place the box of donuts between us, and stare out into a little piece of nature.
We both reach for a blueberry cake donut first, like always, and take a big bite. Once Smilly swallows, she says, “Want to talk about it?”
I knew it was coming. Clever girl. She just buttered me up with donuts. The problem with having a small, loyal group of friends? They know you far too well. She knows my weakness is donuts
. She knows. And today, she made a sneak attack . . . But will I talk? Nope.
“Not really,” I answer, taking another bite.
“Too bad. Spill, girl. And start from wherever your mind lost it and slept with Andrew.”
“I didn’t sleep with Andrew,” I say quickly. Just a heads-up: Smilly has always been a big Tucker/Sadie fan. I’m not sure that will ever change.
“No?” She sips her coffee. “Could have fooled me. By the looks of it this morning, you let him dip your donut.”
Rolling my eyes, I say, “We didn’t have sex. We just . . .” How do I say dry humped without blushing? “You know, did some things.”
“Did you touch his penis . . . with your vagina?”
“No,” I answer exasperated. “All clothes remained on. We just kissed and did some, you know, frictional rubbing.”
Mid-sip, Smilly eyes me over her Styrofoam coffee cup. “Did you dry hump?”
God, why is this so embarrassing? “Yes,” I answer shyly.
“Seriously?” Smilly shakes her head. “What were you thinking, Sadie? Aren’t you still seeing Tucker?”
“No. We’re not together. You should know this. He hasn’t been around the apartment for months. Did he tell you differently? I’m going to kick him in the testicles if he did.”
“Hold on.” Smilly pats my leg. “He just said he was trying to get you back. That’s all. No need to kick his testicles just yet. So, what does this all mean? Are you moving on?”
“I don’t know.” I pause. “That’s a lie, I know I’m moving on from Tucker. We’re over. There is just too much baggage between the both of us, too much history, too many things we can’t overlook or ignore. We’re not right for each other, Smilly. He needs to accept that.”
Tucker. How do I even explain that relationship? Destructive, that’s what it was, but it wasn’t always like that. It started off as a friendship, a mutual understanding of the pain we were going through as kids. My mom destroying our family, Tucker’s mom neglecting the fact she had a son. We leaned on each other and after a while, that friendship blossomed into a relationship, an all-consuming relationship that became volatile at times. Both seeking the love we needed as kids, we turned into jealous, unhealthy individuals, relying too much on each other for comfort, losing ourselves in one another. Tucker is two years older than me and when I left for college, his jealousy was so smothering that I distanced myself, unable to cope with the fights. When he visited, it felt different, better, but when he left, our relationship turned toxic once again. It was unhealthy. It still is. He’s a good man, I know this. But he isn’t the right man for me.