by L. B. Dunbar
Just what. Are. You. Doing?
Fulfilling a fantasy, I want to answer. Completing my bucket list, I want to add.
What’s something you wish you could accomplish? I asked Brut earlier. Having his love would have been on my list.
“Lily.” My name sharply spoken snaps me from my thoughts. “So why did you call?”
“Talk some sense into me.”
“Oh no, girlfriend. Sense walked out the door as soon as you let him crawl between your legs.”
“Ester,” I squeaked, hoping Brut had already gone downstairs, but then I remembered he can’t hear Ester anyway.
“Look. The first question you ask yourself is do you regret what happened?”
“No.” I didn’t even hesitate. I didn’t regret it, and I didn’t consider it a mistake. I just didn’t know what to consider it.
“Okay, definitely between-the-thighs talking. Next question is do you want it to happen again?”
“Yes.” Another answer without hesitation.
“More vagina-speak.” Ester tsked. “I say, just go with it. You aren’t committing to anything. You’re on vacation. Enjoy yourself.”
“That’s what he said.”
“Am I supposed to badum-dum here?”
“No, just he set some rules. Like one week. No past. No future. Just be.”
“Sounds like you’ve already broken a few rules, like the ‘I will never be with Brut Paige again’ rule.” A heavy mmm-hmm follows Ester’s reminder. “But as the saying goes, rules are meant to be broken.”
I want to smile in triumph, but something still weighs on me. Ester’s right. I’ve always lusted after Brut, but I swore I’d never be with him. I said I forgave, and I did.
Then why do I feel so guilty?
+ + +
Brut and I eat dinner at the island while the baseball game plays in the background. I’m curious if the hum of the sporting event is a typical sound in his house. He turns occasionally at a cheer of the crowd or groan of the announcer, but for the most part, he’s attentive to our conversation, which steers suspiciously clear of our past. Instead, we discuss places I’ve traveled or wish to see in the future.
I’ve missed you.
I didn’t know what to say.
I’ve longed for you.
Why did you do it?
The two thoughts run together in my head. All those years ago, I had some answers, but over time, my perspective changed. My opinion of Brut as a liar and a cheater matured into accepting he wasn’t fully to blame. He was young, vibrant, and horny. Keeping me at arm’s length made me wonder, though. Maybe it was me. He liked to play but didn’t want to finish the game. With me.
He’s into finishing in the past twenty-four hours, I remind myself. I don’t think I’ve had as many orgasms in the past year as I’ve had with him in the past day. This worries me. Maybe Ester’s right. Maybe it’s a different body part thinking for me. I can’t get reattached.
I care about you.
Why now? I wanted to ask. Why does he suddenly care? I don’t ask, though, and let the questions brew within me.
“Let me help you frost.” I’m standing opposite him at the counter and notice he’s waiting for an answer.
“I got it.” My tone is off. My brain working too much as the evening transitions to night. “Besides, they need to cool.”
“Hmm,” he moans as he rounds the island and stands behind me, caging me in like he did earlier. “So do you.” What does that mean? I think defensively. What is wrong with me suddenly?
Brut reaches around me and swipes a finger through the homemade frosting. I like it to be room temperature because it makes the mixture easier to spread. With those thoughts in mind, I feel the frosting coat the side of my neck. Instantly, his mouth follows, sucking up the sugary topping, and I melt a little at the contact.
“Brut,” I mumble as another swish of icing hits the other side of my neck. I spin to face him, and he lowers his lips without a word, lapping at a second helping on my skin.
“You seem off, Lily pad. What’s going on?” Slowly, he unbuttons my shirt. My hands grip the counter behind me, willing them not to touch him. I can’t answer him. I don’t know what’s wrong. It’s like a switch flipped, and I can’t stop wondering what we are doing.
But then he touches me like this, and I can’t think anymore.
When he finishes opening my shirt, he pushes the material off my shoulders. I’m wearing another cotton cami without a bra. He reaches around me again, covering the spreading knife with frosting and reaching for the top of my tank with his other hand.
“You aren’t coming anywhere near me with that knife,” I choke out with a laugh, the tension slowly leaving me at the teasing expression on his face. He sets the knife back in the bowl and hooks another finger in the creamy mixture instead. Lowering the front of my cami, he trusses up my breasts and tweaks one nipple with a coating of frosting. Leaning forward, he covers the globe with his mouth and sucks at the dollop covering me.
“You’re better than a cupcake, Lily pad.” He reaches for another helping of frosting, but his hand freezes. I twist to look over my shoulder, following the gaze of his eyes.
“What’s this?” He lifts the bottle and holds it between us. Caramel. I planned to use the liquid as a garnish over the apple-vanilla cupcakes I’m experimenting with. My breath hitches, my chest rising and falling with anticipation of what he might do next. With firm fingers on my sternum, he presses me back a little and drizzles the gooey liquid over one breast. Sticky and thick, it slowly rolls down the slope, and he watches before diving forward to follow the trail with his tongue.
“Delicious,” he mutters as he chases the drip. I’m lost once again to the way he devours me. His tongue working over the sensitive tips of my nipples. His hands grip my waist before his fingers deftly travel to my shorts. The button on my jean cutoffs unsnaps, and then…his phone rings.
“Ignore it,” he mutters, but the vibration of the mechanism on the counter can’t be dismissed nor can the gritty rap music with the name Chopper in it. Brut lifts his head and peers over my shoulder.
“Damn it, Chopper,” he mumbles.
“You should take it.” I don’t want him to ignore his son. In fact, the trill of his son’s name draws me back to reality. He reaches around me, picking up his phone with one hand but stilling me from moving with the other on my breast. He squeezes as he answers with a choked greeting and a teasing glint in his eyes. He watches his fingers tweak me while he nods in response to something his son has said.
Two can play this game, I decide and swiftly tug down his basketball shorts. He’s returned to a pair similar to what he wore earlier in the day. To my surprise, he’s commando, and I drag myself down between the counter and his thighs. He pulls back, surmising my intention, but I grip his shaft before he can step away from me.
My eyes narrow up at him as my tongue slips forward and licks across the swollen tip. He chokes again into the phone while his other hand falls behind me, bracing himself on the counter near my head. He’s shaking his head at me, knowing he’s in a precarious position. He can’t pull back with the hold I have on him, and something in the way he stands says he doesn’t want to.
“Chopper, can I call you back?” With the question on his tongue, I draw him into me and suck him deep. My tongue twirls around the thick length, and his hand covers my hair. A soft fuck purrs above me. I draw back, hollowing my cheeks before filling my mouth with him again. His tender hand cups my chin.
“Sheila? What did she want?”
Something in his voice instantly stops me. The way he said the other woman’s name along with the bitterness of his question prevents me from continuing. I pull back suddenly, embarrassed by what I’m doing. I’m sucking his dick while he asks about another woman.
The past crashes into me fiercer than the wave that took me off the board yesterday. He has other women in his life, despite what he said earlier in the day.
I sta
nd slowly, using the cabinet at my back to guide me upward on shaky legs. Once fully upright, Brut pins me to the counter with his hips, but my hands come to his shoulders, pressing him away from me. I can’t look at him. I can’t believe this is happening.
“Chopper, I gotta call you back.”
“No,” I say, too loud, too close to the phone. I glare up at him, and then I hear his son’s voice. “Who’s that?”
Brut’s wide eyes weigh on my face as I try to press more firmly at his shoulders.
Let me go, I will him.
“That? No one. Television is too loud.”
I stop pushing at him, my body going lax at his words. His eyes hold my astonished stare for a moment, his body relaxing against mine.
I’m his dirty little secret once again.
I use the timing to push him again. The force breaks me free of his cage, and I race for the stairs.
I can’t believe I fell for him…a second time.
18
Making plans after all
[Brut]
I climb the stairs with heavy feet and an even heavier heart. I admit I panicked. And the look of horror on Lily’s face will be forever burned in my brain next to the expression she wore when I finally told her the truth all those years ago.
I slept with someone else.
I pause for a moment outside Lily’s door, uncertain how to proceed. My knuckles raise to knock, but I freeze once again. What do I say to her?
The truth. Always go with the truth, my mind murmurs.
I decide not to knock. Instead, I turn the knob and let myself in. “Lily,” I call out softly.
“Please leave me alone,” she says, her words choppy and short. She lies on her side with her back to the door like last night. She’s hurt. I saw it written in her face downstairs. Shit. Shit. Shit. She’s crying.
“Don’t cry, Lily pad,” I coax, crossing to the bed in two quick steps. She rolls to face me, tracking my movements.
“I’m not crying,” she snaps. “I’m pissed.”
“Why are you mad?” Taken aback by the sharpness of her voice, I round the corner of the bed to stand next to it.
“I’m mad at myself.”
“Why?”
“I can’t believe I’m doing it again.” My throat tightens at her words. I don’t like where I think this is going.
“Doing what?”
“You said there wasn’t anyone else this morning.” Her voice sounds petulant, riddled with jealous anger. I shouldn’t like it, but I do. I also notice she hasn’t answered my question.
“There isn’t.”
“Then who’s Sheila?” My head flinches back at the mention of the woman who comes into the shop a little too often for my liking.
“She’s no one.”
“I thought I was no one,” she bites.
“Lily,” I admonish softly, reaching out for her hip as I sit on the edge of the mattress next to her. “You aren’t no one. I didn’t know what to say. Did you want me to tell my son I was here with you?” I would tell the world if you wanted me to. Her eyes close, and she shakes her head. A subtle tension trickles between us.
“Right,” she mumbles. “One week.” As much as I wish to discuss our calendar, I need to tackle one issue at a time.
“Sheila’s married.”
Lily’s mouth falls open, and her shock says she’s ready to rip into me. I hold up a hand to stop her.
“She’s an unhappy woman who comes into the shop looking for something more than I’m willing to give her.”
“Have you given her something that she’d want more of?” Lily chokes.
“No. I don’t do married women.”
“Why would she want something from you?” The hesitation in Lily’s voice brings back a wave of memory. Why would she do this?
“Because she assumes that, as a single man, I’m desperate to get under her hood, which I’m not.”
Her bright blue eyes narrow as she glares at me. “Did you just try to be funny? Was that a car joke in the middle of…of our fight?”
For some reason, this makes me chuckle. I shift to crawl over her and reach for her wrists, pining her to the bed as I straddle her hips. I want her full attention, and I lower my head. “Are we fighting?”
“Yes.” The singular word cracks like a whip. Her hips buck under me, and it forces me to firmly press her into the mattress. I respond to her bucking with a thrust of my own.
“What are we fighting about?” I tease because there’s nothing to argue over. Sheila is a dead issue. I’m not interested in married women—or any woman other than Lily.
“You were thinking about another woman when…” The completion of her description drifts.
“When what, Lily pad?” My voice lowers as does my nose to hers, rubbing along the tip. “When you had my dick in your mouth?”
Lily gasps, and her hips shoot upward once again. If she hopes to force me off her, she’s sadly mistaken. I’m not getting off, except with her.
“Speaking of that…” I lean forward and nip at her neck. Her head dips as her shoulder lifts at the sudden sting. “That was rather naughty of you when I was on the phone.”
Her mouth pops open again, but before she can speak, I bring my lips within a millimeter of hers.
“And for the record, I was not thinking of another woman when my dick was deep down your throat. But I like that you’re jealous.”
“I wasn’t jealous,” she snips, still feisty under me. “Besides I have nothing to be jealous of, right?”
Her voice whines, and for a second, I hear the nineteen-year-old Lily. The one who used to beg me to take her, plead with me to have sex with her. Don’t you want me, Brut? She had no idea then, just as she has no idea now. I want her with every part of me. Dick. Heart. Soul.
My mouth hovers over hers, breathing into her. I need what I say next to sink inside her somehow.
“Lily pad,” I begin, her name rough on my tongue. “You are not, nor have you ever been, no one to me. I wanted you more than I was willing to admit back then, but I want you more than anything else now. I’m the one who’s jealous. Jealous of any other man who’s had a taste of you. Jealous of fucking cupcakes, for that fact, and the attention you give them. I’m jealous because I want you all to myself. I want your everything and beyond, just for me.”
My lips cover hers, not allowing her to snap back or bite me again. Kiss me, Lily, I plea as I hungrily devour her tender skin, which slowly melts beneath mine. My hands still hold her wrists hostage, but she relaxes under me. My palms flatten, coasting down her inner arm to her elbows before reaching for her face. Cupping her cheeks, I deepen our kiss in a different way.
I want you, Lily. Then and now.
Frantically, she reaches for me, tugging at my shorts. Her feet come to my sides, and she uses them to press my shorts farther down my thighs.
“Uh-uh-uh,” I mutter against her. “Paybacks are a bitch.” My fingers fumble with her jean shorts. “You left me hanging down there. No pun intended.”
Her fingers reach between us, encircling me and stroking. “Let me finish, then.” A hitch in her voice—desperate, panicked, hesitant as if she wants to prove something to me—forces my rebuff.
“I should make you finish,” I warn, hastily removing her jean shorts. “But I think I’m going to enjoy torturing you instead.”
My mouth lowers between her thighs, and my tongue splits her open. Her knees spread, and her fingers fist in my hair as I take my time to tease her.
“Right there.” She purrs as she whispers, but then I move. Tender fingers nudge me to return where she wants, but I don’t readily comply. My tongue takes its time, dragging lazily around where she wishes.
“So close,” she whimpers as she tenses under me, and I release her once again, moving to kiss her inner thighs.
“Brut.” She grunt-groans, and I add the frustrated noise to my list of her sounds.
I want all her sounds. All of her.
“Don
’t ever do that again, Lily pad,” I tease, blowing a warm breath into her center, then circle my nose close to her core, still refusing contact where she needs.
“I won’t,” she whines in promise. “Just finish me.” Her voice squeaks as her legs squirm, eager for the friction from my tongue.
“Say it. You won’t ever leave me.” I know what I’m asking, but does she? Euphoric and edgy, her fingers tighten around my head, and I sense she doesn’t catch my double meaning. Lily walked away when she learned the truth. I don’t want her walking away again.
“I won’t ever leave…” The rest of her promise is cut off when I return my tongue to her wet heat and finish her as she asked.
I’d do anything for her but letting her leave me again isn’t one of them.
+ + +
I wake to an empty bed. Again.
Goddammit. Rolling to my back, I stare up at the ceiling. A quiet laugh and small smile grace my lips, recalling the past twenty-four hours. My dick currently stands at attention with the thoughts of all we’ve done. We didn’t have sex last night, but the oral discoveries were enough. I haven’t felt this alive in years.
Is it just the sex?
I roll my head to her empty pillow and then twist my body to caress the cool covering. I have my answer instantly. No. No, this is not only sex for me. I wake missing her. I smell her scent on my skin and in the sheets, and I ache for her. It’s not just my lower appendage’s longing, either. I want her.
One week, she muttered last night. Does she think that’s all I want? Does she not see that, in the course of one day, I want all things with her? Everything and beyond.
I spin lazily from the bed, stretching before reaching for my shorts on the floor. Another chuckle escapes as I recall her wild maneuvers to remove them. Her feet are wicked talented. Crossing to the double doors facing outside, I see another glorious day of sunshine. It’s a welcome reprieve from a day of rain at the beach. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed every second of yesterday, but I feel itchy to get out and do something. Lily and I need some time outside our bubble. I need to prove we are more than the space inside this house.
