“No idea,” I say as delicious heat seeps from the cup into my frozen fingers. “I’m not remotely automobile-oriented. All I know is it won’t start.”
Will points at my boxy red Nissan. “Is that your car?”
“It was. Now it’s just a three-ton rock. Please don’t judge.”
“I invented Hellfire, remember?”
“Oh yeah. You can’t judge anyone ever again. Can you?”
Will attempts a stern glare, but the smile ruins it. Neither of us can stop smiling. We must look like we’re on drugs.
“I can take a look at the engine if you want?”
I laugh, but Will doesn’t laugh with me.
“Wait, is that a serious offer or are you trolling me?”
He frowns. “Why would I be trolling you?”
“Because you’re a tech bro and my car is a hatchback, not a drone that needs to be assembled.”
He prods me in the shoulder. “Speaking of judging people... I know cars. My dad’s a mechanic, and I almost didn’t go to college so I could join the family business.”
“How very Springsteen of you!”
“Nah, Bruce would have stayed.” His face changes as he says it, the brightness in his eyes dulling to that melancholic gray. I can’t stand it. I raise myself on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek. “You’re sexier than Springsteen. And that’s saying something.”
His skin creases beneath my lips and I know the smile has returned. “You’re a goddess, Marley.”
It’s such an elaborate compliment, I flush. “I don’t think—”
“So don’t think,” Will says and he bends his head to mine.
His lips are ice, but as we kiss, I heat all over. In the bar his mouth was hungry, but there’s a tenderness to this kiss that has me shaking. The deeper we press into each other, the more I vibrate, as though the particles that hold me together are falling apart at Will’s touch. It’s overwhelming, almost scary to feel this way, but I don’t stop kissing Will and he doesn’t stop kissing me…At least until a wolf whistle splits the air.
We turn and see my neighbour, Strange Hank. It’s just Hank, really. I added the ‘Strange’ after I saw him walking his pet ferret on a leash whilst wearing an Astroboy dressing gown and smoking a cigar. “Hey, Hank.”
He eyes the two of us. “Bit early, isn’t it?”
I laugh. “Roadside assistance is better than I remember.”
Strange Hank looks confused. “Is this guy harassing you?”
Jesus, this is what I get for trying to be funny. “No, I was just kidding. This is my friend, William Faulkner.”
My neighbour glares at me, turns and heads back into his house.
“What?” I call after him. “What is it?”
Will’s shoulders are shaking with quiet laughter and I realise where I went wrong.
I roll my eyes. “Have you considered changing your name to something less…literary?”
“Nope,” he says, then kisses me again, harder, as though to make up for lost time. I sink into him for a few seconds, then remember we need a location change. I step away. “Okay, you attempt to fix my car—good luck by the way, it’s a piece of shit—and I’ll go inside and clean so you think I’m a functioning adult who doesn’t dry her underwear on a string above her kitchen table.”
Will flashes me a smile I’m starting to think of as ‘vintage Abercrombie panty-destroyer.’ VAPD for short.
“Then I’ll come inside?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“And then?”
I lick my lips, tasting cold and sweet. Might as well cut to the point. “I don’t think I should give you clay throwing lessons. I think we should be lovers, instead.”
The blue in Will’s eyes seem to brighten. “I agree.”
“Then we have an accord.” I take another step backward, my heart in my mouth. “I’ll get going before the—”
“Grabbing resumes?”
“Exactly.” I pull out my keys and unclip the one for my car. “Do you need tools or something? Not that I have non-artistic tools. Do you need a soldering iron?”
He laughs. “No, but don’t worry. I’ve got it covered.”
Will hands me the doughnuts and heads for the back of his truck. He pulls down the back bit and hauls out a battered baby-blue toolbox. It’s rusting at the edges and plastered in faded rock radio stickers. I frown. Do they have ironic yard sales where dudes buy manly-man appliances?
Will hoists the toolbox higher. “It’s my dad’s. He upgraded a couple of years ago and gave me this one. Everything’s old but it works.”
“It’s gorgeous.”
He laughs like I’m joking, but I’m not. The toolbox isn’t shiny or pretty, or aesthetically pleasing in a way my art professors would have appreciated, but it’s good. And Will looks good holding it, he sounds good talking about it. It’s clear this rusty-ass toolbox makes him happy in some lovely, whole-wheat way I haven’t seen before. A lump pushes up in my throat and I know I need to capture this moment. To freeze it and re-examine it and try to understand why this toolbox is so...much. My mind whirrs, collecting textures, colours, shapes…
“Marley?”
I snap back to the present. “Sorry, I’ll leave you to it.”
“Sure,” he says. “Go get warm.”
It’s such a boyfriend-y thing to say, my breath catches. I want to stay, say something silly, but thankfully I turn and walk toward my place.
My apartment is a mess. I didn’t clean up because I didn’t want to think we’d wind up back here. Solid Ellis logic. I put the box of doughnuts in the fridge, which is easy because unlike the rest of my apartment, it’s empty. Then I get to work piling crusty mugs and plates into the sink, tearing down my homemade washing line and gathering up the loose buttons, ribbons, and metal scraps that might one day be art, but right now are just trash. I’m halfway through wiping my kitchen when I notice my breath is coming out in white puffs. I run to the central heating and crank it on. The system sputters, surprised to be called to action. That makes sense. It’s been more than two weeks since I put it on. I stare at the dial, my stomach twisting. No matter how good this thing with Will is, it’s going to cost me. I’ll have less time to work, I’ll have to pay for meals and dates and keep actual food in the fridge. It’ll be the opposite of a sugar baby relationship: effortless chemistry, negative financial benefits. That’s fine, that’s how it should be, but fucking hell, I really didn’t need love spreading its big, glowing ass all over my plans.
My brain does a little hop-skip.
Love? That’s a bit presumptuous, a snarky voice intones.
I look out the window. Will is leaning over my car’s hood, doing something with a wrench. He’s smiling slightly and seems utterly absorbed. My chest throbs like an old bruise. Unless William Faulkner is the worst lay of all time, I’m going to fall for him. I will pin-drop into the bright, lovely thing between us. I return to my sponge and keep wiping my kitchen table. The snarky voice clears her throat. Maybe Will can help you with money? He’s got enough.
“No.” The idea is so repulsive I say it out loud. I won’t—can’t—have Will supporting me. I’ll give more lessons, sell more commissions, maybe even look at doing some cleaning work, but I am not taking his money. Ever. I have my pride.
Fifteen minutes later, my apartment is as warm and clean as it’s going to be. I’m dusting my vast and extremely dusty candle collection when I hear a knock at my front door. “I’m done,” Will calls.
I assume that’s guy speak for ‘I gave up.’ I fluff my curls and smooth my fake-velvet skirt. “Come in!”
Will opens the door, pink-cheeked and smiling, and looks around with interest. “Great place.”
“Thanks,” I say, feeling a little self-conscious. There’s so much of my work around, it’s basically a display of the inside of my head. “I know it’s cramped, but it’s the only place the residency offered.”
“It’s great.” He gestures to my wolf teacups. “Di
d you make all this stuff yourself?”
“Most of it.” I gesture to the table where the doughnuts are gleaming like fat sugary gems. “Want to eat?”
He shakes his head, a cheeky smile spreading across his face. A corresponding grin blossoms on mine. “Do you perhaps want to see my room?”
He studies the ceiling. “I mean…if there’s nothing else you’d like me to fix?”
I gape at Will. “You didn’t…did you fix my car?”
“Didn’t you hear me start it up?”
“It’s running?”
“Yeah. I mean you should replace—”
But I don’t give him a chance to give me valid advice. Instead, I launch myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He bends down and kisses me. He kisses me back without hesitation. I adore that about him, the way he jumps into things as though they were always meant to go that way. We sway together, our hips pressed tight. I’m sure if I could stay in this moment long enough, everything would make sense.
He fixed my car. My insides fizz at the thought. With the cash I’ve saved from hiring a mechanic, I can afford to run the heater and take the day off. Although… I pull away from Will. “Can I give you money for fixing my car?”
He snorts and moves to keep kissing me, but I hold a finger between our lips. “I need to say something important.”
Will kisses my outstretched finger. “Go ahead.”
“Wherever we go from here, you’re not allowed to try and support me, okay?”
“Okay,” he says, but his eyes are twinkling.
“I’m serious! I like you and I know you have a lot of money, but I don’t want what we have to be tainted by the whole…”
“Sugar baby catfishing extravaganza?”
“Exactly. I want to get to know you on a clean slate. I want us to be equals.”
He nods, but he’s still giving me that ‘rules are for suckers’ smirk. I wish I was immune to its charm, but I’m a heterosexual woman, not the Dali Lama. I give him the sternest look I can muster then cradle his jaw and press my lips to his. It’s a slow kiss but it accelerates rapidly, both of us shifting our hips, rubbing against each other. Will slides his tongue into my mouth like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I don’t usually like deep kissing, but this feels like heaven. My pussy contracts as I imagine him licking me with the same lazy confidence. Great minds really must think alike because Will pulls back, heat blazing in his blue eyes. “I want to go down on you until you scream.”
I shiver despite the warmth. “That sounds so good…” I bite down on the word I want to add. Daddy.
It’s too soon. I don’t know if Will is into that kind of thing, even though he’s such a daddy. I couldn’t see it at first, but now there’s no denying it. He brought me doughnuts and fixed my car. He slays blue jeans and now he’s holding me up and kissing me like I weigh nothing. He’s a daddy; the question is, can he be mine?
Will squeezes my ass. “Where’s your bed, beautiful?”
“Down the hall to the left.”
He carries me there and lowers me gently onto my sheets; another tick in the ‘daddy’ column. I wrap my legs around his back and try to pull him on top of me, but he resists, scrubbing his hand across his sandy curls. “Is this too fast? I like you so fucking much; I don’t want to ruin this.”
His words are like a shot to the chest, too big and lovely to be real. I pull him closer and he falls in a warm tumble onto my body.
“I don’t know if it’s too fast,” I say. “But I really want you. Maybe we just have to be brave?”
Will traces my cheek with his cold fingertips. “I can be brave.”
Then we’re kissing again, tearing off each other’s clothes and touching everything, everywhere as fast and much as we can. Will sucks my nipples and the heat of it zaps through me like friendly lighting. Maybe we are rushing, but I don’t want to slow down. I don’t want to slowly round the bases and try to feel three dates’ worth of intimacy in thirty minutes. Time is an idea; reality is the flex of Will’s back, the clean softness of his hair, the fact his cock could be used to mold All-American dildos.
I’ve never been a blowjob queen, but as soon as I close my fist around Will’s dick, I have to slide down and suck like it’s going to save the world. He tastes hot and clean and I could keep going forever but Will’s hand closes around my hair. He gently tugs my mouth away. “Not now, baby.”
The ‘baby’ makes me moan. Such a daddy thing to say.
Will pulls me onto him so I’m straddling his hips. We rock together, playing at sex, and I’m so wet, my inner thighs are slippery. He rubs against me and it would be easy to reach between us and slide him home, but that would be even more reckless than what we’re already doing. I keep my hands on Will’s magnificent chest and away from trouble. “I have condoms in my bedside drawer.”
“Good to know, but we don’t need them yet.” Will turns me onto my back and kisses a line down my stomach. I shiver and look out my lace-covered window. The morning sun is battling its way through the clouds, but the light is dim. My room feels like a safe little cave in contrast, dark and warm and full of fun. Will stares between my legs and lets out a soft whistle. “God, look at this gorgeous pussy.” He looks up at me. “I’m pretty into talking. I hope you don’t mind.”
I want to say there’s nothing I mind about him, but that’s a bit much, even for me. “Talking is good.”
“Good.” He runs his tongue along my inner thigh, gives me a light flick on the cunt, then licks down the other side. He repeats the pattern, back and forth and back and forth until I’m panting. “Tease.”
“Only for a higher cause.” He rasps his thumb lightly across my clit. “Is there anything you like in bed? Anything you need?”
Let me call you daddy. I open my mouth to say it…then I grab my pillow and press it to my face.
“Is that a yes?”
I nod, biting down on the pillow. After everything we’ve said to each other, why is this so hard?
Will grips my thighs and eases himself up so our eyes are level. “Can you move the pillow and tell me what you need, baby?”
His voice is gentle, but there’s unmistakable authority behind it. So fucking daddy. God, I’m sober and having the best daddy dom experience of my life at the hands of the Chevrolet-driving, flat-brim cap wearing dude who invented Hellfire. The universe is one hell of a drug. I swallow. “I want to call you something but I’m not sure you’ll like it.”
“What is it?”
“I can’t say it.”
Will’s fingers close around my wrists, pulling my hands away. “Yes, you can. Tell me.”
“Daddy.” It comes out like a curse word and I rebury my face in my pillow.
Will tears the pillow away. “Marley,” he says, his voice like gravel. “That is so fucking hot.”
“You mean it?”
“Christ, yeah. How do you like it? Like, should I be an asshole, or do you want me to be gentle, like ‘you’re my little princess and I’d do anything for you?’”
There’s a beat in which I’m pretty sure my head is going to explode from sheer joy, then I kiss Will as hard as I can. “Be sweet, but tough. You’re in charge and you don’t take any of my shit.”
A slow smile spreads across his face. “You’re really something, aren’t you?”
“I try to be.” I sprawl back on the bed with my legs wide. “What now?”
Will’s smile fades into hard determination. “You want daddy to kiss you between your legs?”
I nod, dizzy with how good this is. How easy. He settles between my thighs and dips his head, but before anything happens, he looks up at me. He’s always had a gorgeous smile, but this one is beatific. It could light up a whole ballroom.
“What?”
The skin around Will’s eyes crinkles. “What a time to be alive.”
I feel myself open like a flower in sunshine, open to Will in a way I can’t justify so soon. The moment is too bright, too h
ot. I need it to end. I clasp the crown of Will’s head and gently push him down. “Please eat my pussy.”
His mouth flattens into a line. “Are you going to be a good girl?”
Is it possible to orgasm from sounds? I’m asking for a friend. I barely have the wherewithal to nod before Will’s tongue parts me. I lie back feeling like the queen of the universe as he licks. Usually it takes time for me to get into my body enough to orgasm, but this time I’m so close, it’s ridiculous. His lips close around my clit, drawing and sucking until lights flash behind my eyes. “Will, you’re really good at this.”
He pulls his mouth away. “Who’s really good at this?”
My legs slacken, heat surges through my middle. “You are, daddy.”
“That’s a good girl. Now close your eyes and come on daddy’s face.”
I’m going to evaporate. The tip of Will’s tongue presses gently to my clit and my fingertips sink into my bed sheets. It’s so new, so good, it’s almost painful. I feel raw, all nerve endings and exposed bone. I shut my eyes and imagine him bending me over his knee. Warmth floods my cunt and I gasp and come bucking and grinding on Will’s face. I wail as shockwaves ripple through my skin and down my spine. “Oh my God.”
After a few more soft laps, Will sits up, swiping a forearm across his mouth. “That went…faster than I thought it would.”
“Shut up,” I gasp. “Come here.”
He climbs up and we kiss. I taste myself and despite my orgasm, I’m desperate for more. I turn and rummage through my bedside drawer. There’s enough detritus in there to turn a neat freak insane but I find the condoms and a small bottle of lube. I hand a foil wrapper to Will and he tears it open. I watch as he rolls it on, admiring the way his muscles shift beneath his butter-gold skin. I’ve never done sculpture or classical oil painting, but Will’s body makes me wish I did. I want to commemorate his perfection; how alive and vital and male he is. A teapot just wouldn’t do him justice. Still, I could try. If I can find the time…
Sweeter Page 4
