Greetings from Sugartown (15 page)

I know that despite how far we’ve come, how far she’s come with her trust in me, we’re still not there. I’m not sure we ever will be, but I’m not afraid to push her limits for the sake of making her uncomfortable. I want to possess her in every way possible, and the only way to do that is to make her see that I’m all she needs. If she wants a man to throw her on the bed and fuck her brains out until sunrise, only to get up and do it again until sunset, I’m that guy. If she wants to take it slow, I can be that guy too. I wanna be her everything, for all the rest of her days. And because I’m selfish, I want every part of her … on my terms.
Yeah, more fucked up logic, but that’s just me.
If she didn’t like it, she would have left a long time ago.

I realise I’ve been acting like a fucking space cadet, stuck inside my head for the last few seconds, when I should be focused on fucking her. I hate that without even saying a word she ties me up in knots tighter than the sheets binding her arms to the bed.

I quicken my pace, and then pull out just as her hips are starting to sync to my rhythm. She frowns, and makes a small sighing sound of protest that goes no further than that. I reach for the rabbit vibrator sitting on the bed. Switching that fucker on, I run it across her nipple and down her stomach, smiling when she shies away from the cold lube coating it. I run the tip across her pubic bone, dipping it down to her clit, and then back up again before I gently ease it inside. She takes a minute just to feel and adjust, and then when she begins squirming I slap her thigh, hard.

“I need you to hold still, Ana.”

“I can’t,” she pants.

“Move another muscle and I’ll stop, and leave you tied to the bed all night without any relief.”

She sighs again, and stills her rocking hips. I shift my weight closer, squirt some more lube into my hand, and coat my fingers in it. Gently pushing against her arsehole, I dip a finger inside. I only give her a moment to adjust before sliding another finger in, twisting and slowly separating them to stretch her walls.

“Oh, God … Elijah.” she moans, and throws her head back into the pillow, her body arches off the mattress in time with my movements. Watching her is perfection. But before she can reach the high she’s chasing, I ease my fingers from inside. Ana lets out a frustrated groan. She’s panting, sweat beads on her forehead, and between her gorgeous tits. She thrashes against her restraints. I chuckle.

Smearing lube on my cock, I slowly, and very carefully, inch into her arse, holding the vibrator in her tight, wet cunt to keep from forcing it out.

Ana’s pussy clenches, her thighs tremble, and a soft whimper escapes her open mouth. She shakes her head. “It’s too much.”

“No, it’s not. Relax. Breathe. If you hate it once you’ve had time to wrap your head around it, I’ll pull out. I just want you to try.” I run my hands over her body, slowly inching forward and further inside her with every revolution of my hands to her tits and thighs. “Just try for me, baby girl.”

It’s not like I’m just springing this shit on her for the first time. We’ve toyed around this area for months, years, actually. The first time I had her naked in my bed I’d finger-fucked her arse until she came, screaming my name as she pounded her fists against my chest.

Sliding my fingers beneath the bunny ears, I pinch her clit, gently rolling her flesh between my thumb and forefinger. Her muscles relax a little, and I inch my cock in further. She tenses up again. She’s so fucking tight it almost hurts, and that combined with the slow hum of the vibrator in her pussy almost has me losing my shit.

“Breathe,” I remind her, and she does. “Okay?”

Ana gives me a hesitant nod.

“You want me to stop?”

“No,” she pants.

“Thank fuck.” I shift, slowly letting her adjust to the fact that she has not one but two cocks inside her. And, to be one hundred per cent honest, I’m not sure I can quicken my pace without losing it all together. Everything is intensified. I’ve done this only one other time, with the guy who’s currently occupying my favourite armchair. The guy who was probably staring at Ana all night like she was a delicious piece of pie he had a right to take a bite out of.

Back then, we’d been tripping on acid we’d found at the clubhouse, and Jenny, a club whore twice our age, had suggested we tag team her. Neither one of us had given it much thought going in, but the fact that I could feel another man’s cock between the thin wall of that woman’s cunt and anus was too much for me. Different strokes for different folks. It wasn’t the only time we’d tagged teamed a club whore, or a hot piece of arse, but it was the only time I was too fucked up and freaked out to finish. After that, we never fucked two holes at once. Unless they were at opposite ends of a willing body.

Ana sucks in a sharp breath, bringing my attention back to where it should be. “Faster, more,” she whispers.

It’s my turn to exhale loudly. If I move too suddenly, if I let her come on my cock it will be over within seconds for me, and I’m not done yet. “Be patient.”

“I can’t. I need it. Please, Elijah. Fuck me harder. You promised, please?”

“Christ baby, you’re gonna be the fucking death of me.”

Ana starts rocking her hips back and forth, but I sink my hands into her flesh to force her to stop.

“Please?” she begs.

“Fuck it,” I say as I slide in deeper. I hit the button on the remote and the bunny ears swing into action, vibrating against her clit. I clutch one foot flat to my chest while I slide the other up over my shoulder and fuck her hard. It’s awkward with the vibrator in the way, but within seconds she’s screaming my name as her pussy tightens around the rubber dick and her sphincter milks my cock.

Ana’s still writhing when I feel my own orgasm build to a point where I can’t ignore it any longer. I wrench free from her body and pump my cock in my fist, groaning as hot come shoots out of me onto her slick, pink pussy. I’m lost in my own euphoric bliss as I slump back on my knees and idly begin rubbing my jizz into her skin.

Yeah, it’s sick as fuck, and we know how much women hate that shit, but if there’s a different way to mark her as mine, I’m all ears. For now, I’m gonna coat the woman I love in my come because I can. There might come a day when we’re older, and our bodies don’t fit together like they once did, and she won’t let me do this shit anymore, and I’ll regret not taking every opportunity to do it while I had the chance.

“What?” Ana asks, her voice all high and reedy. It almost sounds as if she’s afraid of me. Fuck, I pushed her too far

“Huh?” I reply, as I grab the towel from beside us, and start wiping off my junk.

“Just now, when you came, you whispered something.”

“I did?” Fuck. That shit was more mind-blowing than even I had planned. If I could high-five myself right now, I abso-fucking-lutely would.

“You just said ‘marry me’.”

Oh, fuck.

“Can you maybe untie me? I think the restraints are stopping the blood flow to my head,” Ana says, her voice taking on the panicked tone she uses when she has fifty pies to bake for a pie drive, and only a day left to do it in. Like an arsehole, I let the most important words I’ll ever say slip out of my mouth in the heat of the moment, and now I have no way to take it back. I can’t let fucking her in the arse be our proposal story.

I am so fucking screwed.

T
HE PANICKED
look on Elijah’s face when he slips the blindfold from my eyes is all the assurance I need to know he didn’t mean what he just blurted out. I mean, no man in their right mind would ask a woman to marry them after he’d just had his penis stuck in his intended wife’s arse.
Oh my God. Do married couples even have anal sex?
Did I just seal my fate as a lonely old crazy cat lady? I should never have let him stick it in my arse. Now he’s forever going to think of me as that girlfriend he had that one time who let him tie her up and take him down double penetration lane.

“Are you okay?” he asks as he lets out a shaky breath. He avoids my gaze as he unties my hands. I wince at the sudden rush of blood as it flows back to my extremities.

“Uh-huh.” I nod, and ease back onto the bed. I wish I had the top sheet to cover me. I stare at the ribbons he made of my Egyptian cotton sheets, and my temper flares. God damn it. I loved those sheets, and now I’m about to lose the love of my life and my favourite sheet set, all in one night.

“I’m just gonna go clean up,” Elijah says, as he scuttles sideways towards the door, with the remainder of my sheet wrapped around his waist. It’s as if he’s afraid to take his eyes from me in case I take him down, a lioness claiming a gazelle. He lets the door slam behind him, and I hear him slump against the other side.

Oh God. I let him fuck me in the arse, and he’s freaked out by how much I liked it
. And that proposal? What the hell was that? I didn’t think he was serious. I mean, who proposes in the middle of kinky anal sex? Elijah was in a complete panic when he left the room. He’s probably out there thinking up ways to end it.

I lie here freezing, anxiously waiting for him to return, and then it dawns on me: I shouldn’t be feeling this way. This is his fault. He’s the kinky one here. I just go along with what feels good, but if we want to get technical, he’s the one who should be embarrassed. Not me. I should be fuming. He took my arse without even having a conversation about it, and he ruined my sheets. My very expensive, very soft, very, very expensive sheets.

Elijah is the reason I can never have nice things.

After several long minutes of lying in a wet patch—and my own mortification—the bedroom door opens, and Elijah comes in. He’s still avoiding my gaze as he drops the towel from around his waist and throws on a pair of loose, worn house pants. I get up and strip the under sheet from the bed, wrapping it around me in an attempt to make my mad dash to the shower a little less humiliating.

“Where are you going?”

“Shower.”

“Ana,” he says, and then pauses when he sees my eyes darting back and forth between him and the door. “About what I said—”

“It’s fine, I didn’t think you meant it anyway.”

“Wait, what the hell is that supposed to mean?” he asks, and he looks pissed. His dark gaze bores into mine. That little muscle in his jaw that pops out when he’s furious starts ticking.

“Marriage?” I supply in an are-you-fucking-crazy tone of voice. “It’s not like you’re ready for that.”

“Excuse me?”

I snap my gaze up from the floor to stare at him. Why is he so pissed off about this? This is Elijah we’re talking about. I know he loves me, just as much as I love him, but sometimes I feel like the part of him that likes to pull away for self-preservation is going to come rearing its way to the top, and ruin all we’ve worked so hard to accomplish. Sometimes it’s hard not to see us having an expiration date. Clearly, though, from the way he’s acting, this is not something he thinks about.

“You don’t think we’re ready for that?”

“I …” I pause, trying to understand why he’s so mad. “Do you?”

“I asked you first,” he demands. At first I think he’s just being facetious, but when I finally meet his gaze, there’s nothing in his expression that could be considered playful. Furious, but certainly not playful.

“Honestly? I don’t know. Sometimes I wonder if it’s all going to come crashing down around us, you know?”

“Why?”

“Why not? Look at our relationship up until this point: secrets, lies, jail time, MCs hell-bent on killing us both, not to mention outside factors, like my dad, Scott … Nicole.”

“What the hell does she have to do with us?”

“What doesn’t she have to do with us?” I demand. “You screwed her, Elijah.”

“Yeah, years ago. Have I fucked anyone but you since? No!”

My voice rises in pitch to match his own. “The second she came back to town you starting acting shady.”

Elijah runs his palms over his face, as if he’s had enough. “That’s what tonight was about, wasn’t it? That’s why I come home to find you and Kick passed out drunk? That’s what it comes down to, huh? That you still don’t fucking trust me, after everything.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? Why were you so worried about me working late, Ana? You think I want that filthy fucking whore?”

“Well it certainly didn’t stop you too long ago.”

“You know what? You’re right. We obviously aren’t ready for marriage. We can’t have a single fucking conversation without wanting to tear one another apart.”

“Didn’t I tell you that’s how it would be?” My voice cracks over the question. I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Didn’t I say that from the very beginning, that we’d tear one another apart? And look at us. Three years on, and we’re still fighting.”

“Because you still don’t trust me.” He stalks over towards the tallboy and yanks open a drawer. Feeling around the underside of the dresser, he locates an object, wrenches it free and throws a sticky-tape covered ring box on the bed. “I bought it two weeks ago. You remember that night that Jack finally went home after two days of playing Xbox on our couch, and you were making pies in the kitchen? I had to have you right there on the bench, and afterward, when we were lying on the floor, sticky with chocolate sauce, I wrapped you in my arms and said I never wanted to move again. I just wanted life to go on around us, without us, so we could always stay right there in that moment. You told me I’d get tired of screwing you because you’d eventually get old and wrinkly, and be covered in stretchmarks from having my fat babies ravage your body.