Welcome to Sugartown (12 page)

Oh god,
please tell me he didn’t just threaten to have Elijah killed if he
broke my heart?
And suddenly Elijah’s
speedy exit from the party last night makes perfect
sense.

It’s Elijah’s
turn to nod. “Yeah, I got it.”

“
I’m gonna
need you at work bright and early Monday mornin’. You good with
that?”

“
Yes, Sir,”
Elijah replies and Dad walks back up the stairs and inside the
house.

I snag my lip
between my teeth and glance awkwardly at Elijah. “Hi.”

His smooth
chocolate eyes fasten onto me and his lips tip up in the corner so
that I know exactly what he’s thinking. “Hi.”

“
What are you
doing here? I wasn’t expecting to see you until
tomorrow.”

He moves
closer, until we’re standing toe to toe and I’m close enough to
feel his warm breath on the top of my hair. “I kept thinking of
you, all alone in that big old kitchen making pies. Then,
naturally, I thought of how good your pie tasted and how I wanted
to taste it over and over again.”

Somehow I
didn’t think we’re talking about pastries, anymore.

“
That so?” I
squeaked.

“
Mmm, that’s
so.” He runs a finger up my arm, over my collarbone and cups the
nape of my neck in his hand. He leans in as though he’s about to
kiss me and there’s a moment of terrible, delicious torture as I
wait for him to bring his lips down to mine, but he presses them
into my cheek in a soft, slightly wet kiss instead. “Plus, if I
have to choke down another cardboard microwave meal, my stomach’s
never gonna forgive me.”

“
And who says
I’m going to let you taste my pie again?”

“
Baby girl,
five minutes alone with me and you’re gonna be begging me to taste
your pie.”

“
Well, I
guess it was pretty brave of you to show your face in front of my
dad after I spent the night in your motel room. Surely you deserve
some kind of reward for your heroism? You get that he’s hurt people
for a lot less, right?”

He chuckles
and pulls me through the kitchen door. “Yeah, I got
that.”

“
And you get
that you’re not getting a free meal here, right? I mean, if I have
to work, then so the hell do you.”

“
Wait, you
really want me to help you cook pie?”

“
No, I want
you to stand there like some Greek Adonis looking all ridiculous
and cute. Of course you’re going to help.” He looks as though he’s
about to protest again so I arch my brow and say, “So help me god,
if you say anything about a man’s place not being in the kitchen
I’m going to kick your ass, Cade.”

He puts his
hands up in mock surrender. “Wasn’t gonna.”

“
Good.” I
rifle through the drawer and pull out two aprons. “Now, do you want
the pink, or the yellow with cupcakes? Personally, I think the pink
is really more your style.”

Chapter Ten

Elijah

Someone was
pounding on my door and that someone was about to get their head
pounded in. I was sweaty, my head felt like it’d gone a couple of
rounds with Tyson and I ached from head to friggin’ toe. Ana’s kid
brother had come home from school last week sporting a nasty case
of a zombie virus and had since shared it all around. Because
sharing is caring. I’d tried to keep my distance, but seeing as Ana
spends half her time with Sam and I spend the majority of my time
with her, I’d ended up being one of the infected, too. Oddly
enough, this damn flu had hit everyone in her family, but Ana
seemed immune.

The pounding
in my head and on my front door continues until I finally roll out
of bed, snatch up the half empty bottle of vodka on my bedside
table and take a hefty swig. It burns like a bitch the entire way
down and feels even worse sitting in my empty stomach, but if it’ll
help to burn out this flu then I’ll down the whole bottle now just
so I can feel better and get back to work.

Still nursing
the bottle, I stumble over to the door, wrapped in a blanket and a
pair of trackies. I pull the door back, and Ana’s face is the one
that greets me, so I have to rethink my plan of pounding in her
head because that would just suck. Plus she looks like a fucking
goddess in those jeans.

“
Hey. How you
feeling?”

I just stare
at her. I’m sure my sweaty, glassy-eyed, crackhead appearance says
it all. “You look awful.”

“
Feel it,
too. You shouldn’t be here, babe, you’re gonna get
sick.”

“
I never get
sick and I got Holly to cover my shift for me so,” she holds her
hand out for me to shake and says in a breathy, sexy voice that has
my Johnson twitching in my pants, “hi, I’m Ana, and I’ll be your
nurse for the rest of the day.”

“
Oh good,
‘cause I have this ache in my pants that could use some TLC.” I
smirk and take another swig.

“
Nice try.
How about you give me the bottle—” she reaches out to take it but I
hold it above my head.

“
How ‘bout
you get drunk with me, instead?”

“
Give me the
bottle, Elijah, before I hurt you.” She’s serious, too. On any
other occasion I might have taken her up on that offer, but in my
current state I’ve probably got all the coordination of a newborn
baby, and no man wants to emasculate themselves in front of the
girl they have perm-a-wood for. I hand over the bottle and
surrender myself over to her care.

“
Good boy,
now go and lie down.” I waggle my eyebrows and she gives me her
serious face before a laugh escapes. Even though my ears and nose
are full of crap and my hearing’s reduced by about 50 per cent, her
laugh is still the best fucking sound I’ve ever heard. “I made you
some soup with dry toast. I have tissues, cough medicine, throat
lozenges and every
Fast and the
Furious
movie ever released on
DVD.”

“
Baby girl,
what are you doin’ with a guy like me?”

“
The same
thing you’re doing with a girl like me.” My head is much too messy
to even begin trying to work that shit out, so I trudge back to bed
and watch her fine arse in those jeans instead.

Within
minutes Ana is beside me, fluffing pillows and forcing medicine
down my throat that tastes far worse than vodka ever could. Then
she feeds me dry toast and the best chicken soup I’ve ever had—come
to think of it I can’t remember a time when I ever ate chicken soup
before this, but I’m sure even if I had, it was never this good.
She slips a DVD in the player when I’m done and settles into the
crook of my arm.

About twenty
minutes in I remember she hasn’t eaten anything, and when I say as
much she replies, “I ate before I came.”

I press my
lips into her hair, slide my arm a little higher up her waist and
whisper, “Say it again.”

“
What?”

“
Came.”

She laughs
and I slide my hand up over her perfect tits and tilt her head up
to mine to kiss her. I know I shouldn’t, but she’s here watching
the ultimate guy movie with me and she made me chicken soup and
forced medicine down my throat—and yes, she took away the vodka but
that was probably for the best, too—and it occurs to me right then,
in my fever heady state, that I’ve never had anyone take care of me
before the way she does. And then it occurs to me that I could get
used to having her care for me.

Too used to
it.

My heart
pounds around my chest uncontrollably.
Fuck, when did I become such a complete pussy?

“
Oh my god,
you’re like some twisted little sex fiend when you’re sick.” She
sits up and climbs over me until she’s straddling my waist. I lift
her hips and seat her back down over my cock, which has been rock
hard since she curled up next to me.

“
Darlin’,
nothing about me is little.”

She lets out
a breathy laugh which is one part humour and all parts desire. “I
can see that.”

She rocks
back and forth gently over me. I can feel the heat of her sweet,
hot pussy through her jeans and I sink my fingers into her
hipbones, but it isn’t enough. I tug at her jeans.

“
Off,” I
grunt. “Everything off.”

“
You’re kinda
bossy when you’re sick, too,” she teases. “I like it.”

“
Yeah?”

She bites her
bottom lip. “Yeah.”

“
Then take
these damn clothes off and I’ll boss you around all you
like.”

“
Yes, sir.”
She slips off the bed, careful not to take her eyes off me as she
undresses. Once her t-shirt is off I know why: her bra is
completely sheer. Seriously, there’s like the thinnest scrap of …
whatever the hell they make women’s underwear out of between her
full, beautiful tits and the world, and all I want to do is run my
mouth over the fabric and tear it with my teeth. She smiles like
she knows exactly what I’m thinking and slowly peels off her jeans,
revealing a matching see-through-as-fuck G-string that definitely
has a date with my teeth.

“
Jesus, baby
girl. Are you trying to kill me?”

“
What, you
don’t like them?”

“
You’re
shitting me right? The only thing I like more is seeing you in
nothing at all and writhing underneath me.”

And speaking
of.

I tug at the
waist of my pants but Ana climbs back on the bed to help me. I must
look pretty damn pathetic because she takes a hold of my hand and
says, “Let me.”

She gently
pulls them from me and throws them over her shoulder onto the
floor, then leans back and stretches her arms behind her to unclasp
her bra but I sit up and reach out to stop her. “Leave them
on.”

She pushes on
my chest so I’m lying flat on my back and then she’s taking me in
her mouth, her hand gently cupping and squeezing my balls while the
other milks my shaft. My eyes roll back in my head and I slide my
fingers into her hair and tug on it, probably harder than I should.
She makes a sound but, as it’s muffled by my cock, I’m not sure
whether or not it’s one of pain or pleasure, so I do it
again.

Definitely
pleasure.

Whaddya know?
My sweet, innocent Ana likes it rough. I did not see that one
coming. And my brain isn’t quite sure how to process the
information either. On one hand it excites me. Really fucking
excites me. But on the other, it means I’m at an even greater risk
of falling in love with her and that scares the ever-loving shit
outta me.

Ana shifts on
the bed so that she’s straddling my thigh. Her perfect arse is
sticking up in the air and the thin elastic of her G-string follows
the curve and disappears into her crevice. I trace the fabric with
my finger and then hook my arm underneath her waist and lift her
off of me. She giggles and shoots me a questioning glance before I
shift her again and set her back down so that she’s still
straddling me, but now she’s facing the opposite direction and her
glorious pussy is in my face.

I run my hand
over her arse but I can’t resist the urge to bring my hand down
upon those beautiful, smooth cheeks. Some arses are just made for
slapping, you know? Ana cries out. Her mouth is still wrapped
around my cock, so once again the sound is muffled, but she rocks
her hips back into my hand so I know I’ve done something
right.

“
You like it
rough, baby girl, is that it?” I feel her hesitate. The steady
rhythm she’d been keeping with her hand and mouth falters and she
goes tense all over. “Hey, you’re safe with me. You know that
right?”

I feel, more
than see, her nod, and her voice has the sweetest quaver to it when
she says, “I know and I think sometimes … I like it rough. I mean,
it’s not like I have a lot of experience with this sort of thing,
but I … well, I like everything you’ve done so far.”

“
And if you
don’t like something that I do?”

“
I’ll tell
you to stop.”

“
And you
believe I will?” I’m not challenging her, just trying to feel out
how far her trust in me goes.

“
I trust you,
Cade.”

“
Good.” I
slide my hand over the red welts I’ve left on her arse and I feel
her relax as she settles back into her own rhythm of exploring my
cock with her lips and tongue. I pull her underwear aside and slide
my finger from her arse all the way down to her clit. Ana squirms
beneath my touch and I trace my finger back the way it came,
pausing for a moment to play in the wetness of her opening. I glide
my finger over the tight little rosebud of her arse and then circle
the sensitive flesh. Ana’s whole body goes ramrod
straight.

“
Yes or no,
baby girl?”

“
I don’t…
I’ve never—”

“
Yes or no?”
She pushes her arse into my hand. “That a girl.”

I dip my
thumb into her pussy and glide it back to that sweet little
puckered hole and gently, slowly, ease my thumb in. Her grip is so
tight it’s sort of painful, and even though her mouth on my cock
has ceased while she explores these new sensations, I almost lose
my shit right there imagining what it’d be like to push my cock
inside.
Fuck me!
I’ve never seen a woman more responsive to touch than she
is.