Adventures in Sugarland

by M J Marstens

  I’m concerned my face might actually be on fire.

  Correction: make that my whole body.

  My top half is aflame in embarrassment, but my bottom half is ablaze in need, making me feel like I drank another bottle of gumdrop tincture.

  I watch Chester’s nostrils flare as he inhales deeply and growls, his pupils dilating.

  I swear he can smell my arousal.

  I shift to ease the pressure blooming between my thighs, and Chester watches me hungrily.

  “Let me help,” he commands, but his words lack the fire needed to compel me.

  He wants this to be my choice.

  Funny, how moments ago I was too angry to think straight, and now I’m too twisted up inside with need to do so. I try to unscramble my jumbled thoughts, but my brain is too clouded with images of Chester and I entwined in bliss to really think clearly.

  I look at the man in front of me, still holding the piece of rope that triggered my mini panic attack. Chester’s taller than even Plumpy, and has a wild look to him, just like where he lives. His hair is a deep bronze, edged with gray at the temples. His beard matches his hair’s fiery color and is kissed here and there with silver. His eyes are a light hazel and seem lit with passion.

  His body is pure muscle, and the man looks like a giant compared to me, but I love the look of his tanned, rugged features, especially his big, callused hands. It makes me wonder how the rough patches will feel against my soft skin. Unconsciously, I step into his embrace, my body deciding for me.

  Chester groans at my decision.

  “Are you sure, sugarbaby?”

  His nickname brings a smile to my lips.

  “I’m sure. . . but if I’m your sugarbaby, does that make you my sugardaddy?”

  His eyes become even more hooded, and he lets out a panting breath before gaining control again.

  “Fuck yes, it does,” he snarls. “And daddy says drop the towel.”

  A thrill courses through my body when he calls himself daddy, but something mischievous takes hold of me.

  Biting my lip coyly, I tip my head back to look up at him, and ask, “What will daddy do if I don’t do as he’s said?”

  “Sweet hell, Anise, are you trying to kill me?” he growls, seemingly losing control once more. “I adore good little girls who do as they’re told, but I fucking love it when they act like brats. Do you know why, sugarbaby?”

  Chester advances into me and backs me into the bathroom wall. He lifts both arms on either side of me, effectively caging me in. I squirm at the intense sensations zinging through my body. I have no idea how to play this game, but I’m learning fast.

  “Why, daddy?” I manage to pant out.

  Even I can hear the taunting insolence in my voice, and I realize I’m purposely baiting this man because I want a reaction out of him. I’ve never done that before. In fact, I went out of my way to pacify Mari.

  “Because then I get to punish them,” Chester rumbles in his deep, sexy voice, making my sex clench with need. “Now, I said drop the towel. Are you going to comply or are things going to get interesting between us?”

  My hands itch to loosen the towel and let it drop between us, but that same wicked part of me flares to life. I release the length of cloth wrapped around my body, but before Chester can approve or disapprove, I duck under his arm and dance out of his reach.

  “Come here, now,” he grinds out.

  “Make me,” I goad back, and then I dash through the open door, naked as a newborn babe.

  O

  CHESTER

  For a moment, I stand there paralyzed at the sight of Anise’s naked body; she’s a fucking goddess and I’m going to worship every inch of her.

  After I catch her, that is.

  Her taunt penetrates my brain and I realize she wants me to chase her.

  I dash after Anise, calling out threats of what I plan to do to her, making her squeal. She makes it to the first floor and into the living room, where we’re at an impasse on either side of my sofa. The bright morning sunlight fills the room and kisses her pale skin lovingly.

  Fuck me, it’s hard to concentrate as I take in her naked perfection, and it’s beyond fucking difficult to run with an erect dick. The damn thing is straining against my pants painfully. I swipe a hand down the front to ease some of the tension, and Anise’s eyes track my movement. Her bubblegum pink tongue flicks out to lick her lips, and a tiny moan tumbles out from them.

  I fist my cock painfully to curb my need to come.

  This little girl is going to be my undoing.

  She’s steel encased in satin.

  The perfect package.

  I close my eyes for a moment to regain control, and when I open them again, I see Anise has darted around the couch and into the hallway. My momentary lapse gave her the upper hand, but not for long. Something feral inside of me snaps, and I jump over the sofa in one fluid movement.

  Anise’s eyes widen at my display of strength and agility, and she briefly forgets to run.

  Too late.

  Before she can shake her stupor, I’m upon her, picking her up and pinning her against the hallway wall.

  “You’ve been a naughty little girl, sugarbaby,” I roleplay, my mouth inches from hers.

  Anise is panting, and she winds her long legs around my waist, pulling me closer to her until our bodies are flush.

  “Maybe you should spank me, sugardaddy.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” I promise darkly, watching her eyes dilate.

  Anise is circling her hips against my massive erection, and my eyes damn near cross. Setting her down is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I flip her around and bend her over, with her hands flat against the wall and her perfect ass on full display. Before she can utter a word, I splay my hand wide and slap it across one round cheek.

  Anise lets out a yelp, then a low moan that boils my blood.

  “Too hard?” I ask, pausing to hear her answer.

  “Harder,” she growls back and my vision goes black.

  I unleash on her ass, smack after smack, each hit reverberating up my arm and deep into her cunt. Her sex is on display, and I can see her glistening folds in the shadowed hall, begging to be licked and fucked. I spank her again, but in truth, I fear that I might break down and beg for release before she does. Anise seems to love my hand on her body and doesn’t appear to be ready to ask me to stop any time soon.

  Just as my sanity is about to unravel, she lets out a husky plea.

  “Please, daddy, please.”

  “Please, what?” I ask gruffly.

  “Please let me come.”

  Fucking finally.

  I unbutton my pants, releasing my throbbing cock, and line it up against her slick entrance. Anise arches back and half impales herself on my dick, and I moan at the sensation of her wet pussy enveloping me. She’s so fucking tight. I grip her hips and slam balls-deep into Anise.

  I’m not going to last long, so I reach around and use my fingers to work her clit.

  I must be hitting the sweet spot because Anise’s pants have crescendoed into chanting entreaties. We’re both so close. I work us faster and faster, her body an instrument that only responds to my tuning.

  “Yes!” Anise screams, as I jackhammer into her slick center.

  My orgasm comes barreling down my spine, tightening my balls.

  Just as I’m about to unload into her perfect sweetness, a barrage of pecking and flapping assaults my windows.

  “What the sweet fuck?!” I roar, losing my orgasm, and costing Anise hers as well.

  I regretfully pull out of her warmth and march over to a window to investigate what’s going on.

  Hundreds of truffles are gathering in my yard.

  Truffles are a special type of bird that Sugarlanders use as messengers.

  It seems Plumpy, Pepper, and the stepbrother are looking for my sugarbaby.

  GRAHAM

  “Where. Is. She?” I punctuate each word with a vi
cious squeeze of my hand.

  “He can’t tell you if you’re suffocating him,” Pepper points out coolly.

  I compress my hand around the servant’s throat for a second more and then loosen my constrictive hold.

  As much as it galls me, Pepper’s right.

  The servant can’t tell me squat if he’s dead, but fuck if I don’t want to murder someone right now.

  Turns out Plumpy’s magic is also decent at tracking, but since Anise doesn’t have a magical signature, she’s more difficult to find. Plumpy traced her to the Gumdrop Mountains where he picked up on another Sugarlander’s magic. Some fucker called Jolly Rancher, a free agent-slash-mercenary.

  A shady bastard who supported Mari.

  Plumpy tracked Jolly’s magic to a Lord Licorice’s castle. From Pepper’s cursing, I assumed it wasn’t good. Nestled in a valley amidst the Gumdrop Mountains sits Licorice Lair, and together, we stormed the castle doors.

  Only to find the place devoid of life.

  Except for one servant, so battered and bruised, he couldn’t run.

  The one whose neck I was just wringing.

  Fuck, I need to get ahold of myself.

  When we entered the great hall, a table with straps was in the center, and a torn purple dress lay crumpled and torn on the ground.

  Anise’s dress.

  I’m terrified we’re too late if the state of the servant is any indication of how Lord Licorice treats others.

  “P-p-please, I-I-I don’t know anything,” the servant whispers hoarsely.

  Plumpy bends down and gives him some of the same chewy something that restored my health. Instantly, the servant heals before our eyes. The look of adoration he bestows upon Plumpy makes me burn with shame.

  That is how I should view this man. He’s saved my life, Anise’s life, and has tracked her this far, but instead, all I can feel is jealousy. Although, after we lost losing Anise, the three of us- Pepper, Plumpy, and I- have banded together. We’re intent on our one focus: to find and save my stepsister.

  But that damn jealousy. . .

  It crouches in the corner of my brain, waiting to point out my every flaw and weakness, and why Pepper and Plumpy are so much better for Anise than I’ll ever be.

  “Th-thank you, my lord,” the servant says gratefully to Plumpy.

  “You’re welcome. I’m sorry Lord Licorice has treated you this way. I’ll make a report to King Kandi. This will not go unpunished. In the meantime, can you please tell us what happened here? We are looking for someone very important.”

  “Someone with purple eyes and braids?”

  I lunge out to strangle him again.

  “So much for not fucking knowing anything, you little shi-”

  “That’s enough!” Pepper commands. “Forgive my friend, he’s upset about his sister.”

  The servant nods his understanding but still steps away from me.

  “I’ll tell you all that I know. . .”

  And he does.

  He spins a tale so horrific, I might vomit thinking what these two men did to my sweet sister. Except, she’s had this done to her before. Worse, in fact, but it doesn’t make it easy to hear. Hasn’t Anise suffered enough?

  I rein in my thoughts when the servant tells us that Anise disappeared.

  My blood freezes.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, thinking the worst.

  What the fuck did Licorice and Jolly do to her?

  “I-I-I mean to say, she escaped, my lords!”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because his highness, I-I mean Lord Licorice, and Jolly were arguing about her not being here! They were scared and fled the castle. Lord Licorice would never leave his domain, unless. . .”

  The servant doesn’t finish, but I know what he’s saying.

  Lord Licorice is a sackless bastard who can dole out the pain, but not take it, and he knew Anise would find help and come back.

  “You may go,” Pepper gently urges the servant.

  The man looks uncertain but eventually runs out the front door.

  “Has his servants calling him ‘highness’, eh?” Plumpy observes.

  Pepper snorts.

  “Always did fancy himself king with the world’s most fucked up queen.”

  “What?” I ask, urging Pepper to elucidate.

  The two Sugarlanders share a long look before Pepper answers.

  “Lord Licorice was Maraschino’s lover. She promised him half her crown if she had his backing.”

  I vaguely recall Plumpy saying something before about Mari’s exile. Anise had asked about Lord Licorice and had been told he was granted forgiveness. Licorice had retreated to his lair for two years, apparently quiet and repentant, but in truth, he’d been planning his revenge.

  “We need to get Chester,” Plumpy suddenly says.

  “Who’s Chester?”

  “Lord of the Peanut Brittle Plains. He’s the best tracker in Sugarland. If anyone can find Anise, it’ll be him.”

  Plumpy grabs the desecrated dress and lets out a shrill whistle. Instantly, dozens of birds fly to him.

  “Truffles,” he explains gruffly.

  He whistles some kind of message and then sends them off. I look at him quizzically.

  “The truffles will bring Chester to us, but let’s get going. I don’t want to spend another minute in this place. We’ll meet him halfway on the trail.”

  With that, Plumpy strides out of the Licorice’s castle, not waiting for Pepper or me to follow, but I couldn’t agree more. Seeing the table with straps makes my skin crawl.

  Hold on, sweetheart, I mentally call to Anise, we’re coming.

  ANISE

  “What’s wrong, sugarbaby?” Chester asks, walking next to me.

  We left his house about thirty minutes ago, heeding the call of some messenger bird. I don’t fully understand, as Chester didn’t elaborate, and I’m not really in the mood to talk. Being seconds away from the orgasm of the century, only to have some birds interrupt it, will do that to a person.

  “Nothing,” I mumble, not wanting to admit that I swear that I heard Graham talking to me in my head.

  Chester gives me a long look but ultimately leaves it alone.

  We walk along in silence under the hot sun. In the light of the day, the dry, cracked ground reveals layers of peanut brittle; the hard lumps explain why it was so difficult to run over. We pass by a carcass that’s mostly just bone with large birds circling above it.

  “Praline,” Chester comments.

  “Hmm?” I ask, torn from my thoughts.

  “Praline carcass. A smaller one. Must have been a youth or small female.”

  I look a little closer at the remains and notice the long canines in the skull. A shiver runs down my spine thinking of how close the other Praline’s teeth were to me, and what might have happened if not for Chester. I look over at my hero, who must sense my gaze because he turns my way. A small gasp escapes my lips when his bronze eyes lick over me with fiery possession.

  His eyes lock with mine and promise me that we’ll finish what we started.

  I blush, breaking eye contact when I feel like I’m ready to combust. Of course, seconds later, I’m back to gawking at his arm muscles. I must be a glutton for punishment. His biceps bulge and I can’t imagine how strong he must be. I finger my collar nervously, thinking of all the naughty things this man could do with his strength.

  Abruptly, I stop.

  It takes Chester a few paces to realize I’ve stopped moving, and he comes back to me trying to read the intensity stamped into my face.

  “Sugarbaby?”

  “Can you get this off?” I ask him, indicating my collar.

  I’ve never met or seen anyone with the brute strength that Chester displays. If he can’t get this collar off, no one can.

  He walks over and delicately fingers the collar. At first, he looks like he’s going to say ‘no’, but a steely look of determination replaces his denial, and he grabs the co
llar with both hands and yanks. I can feel the material stretching further from my throat and just when I think Chester is about to succeed, a pulse of red light flashes and Chester is thrown from me.

  He lands a few feet away, dust kicking up around him from the dry earth. He doesn’t make a sound, but I know he must be in terrible pain from the expression on his face. I rush over to him and straddle his thigh. I cup his face to look into his eyes, mine streaming with tears.

  “I’m so, so sorry,” I sob over and over, but Chester lets out a chuckle.

  “Anise, I’m fine. A burn, nothing more. It’s my own fault. I don’t know what I was trying to prove. I knew I couldn’t get her collar off of you. I guess. . .” He trails off not finishing his sentence and I’m full of despondence.

  How is the king going to get this infernal thing off of me if the strongest man alive can’t?

  This time, Chester throws his head back and laughs.

  I love the carefree sound and watch the sun wink off his brightly colored whiskers exposed on the underside of his chin. After another minute of drooling at him, I think to ask why he’s laughing.

  “Firstly, I’m not the strongest man alive, I’m sure, but my ego thanks you,” he teases, making me realize I must have spoken my thought out loud. “Secondly, it has nothing to do with strength and everything to do with magic. Only powerful magic can undo what Maraschino has done, and only King Kandi has that kind of strength.”

  Just as Plumpy and Pepper said.

  In truth, I’m a little scared to meet someone with stronger magic than Mari. I saw the evil corruption it can cause; what’s this king like if he has more? Is he like Lord Licorice, Jolly Rancher, and Mari all combined? It’s obvious Plumpy and Pepper seem to trust the king, but I’m not too sure.

  I don’t like where my thoughts are going, so I break my silent brooding to talk to Chester. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to make small talk, so I skip it and decide to be bold by asking personal questions. Lady Annatto, my royal handmaid, would have a fit if she knew how many castle rules I was breaking.

  I might not be royalty, but I was raised like one.

  “Um, do you live all by yourself out here?” I query tentatively to Chester, wincing at the hesitation in my voice.