Earning It

by Angela Quarles

  “Hi, Pepper,” I say softly without turning around. And without any discussion, she falls into step beside me as we stroll to the parking lot. I see the bumper of her Volvo and steer us toward it. I have no clue what to say or what to make of this. My throat is choked up with words, and none of them will probably be right. All I know is that I’m vibrating with the energy I feel whenever I’m around her. And I’ll stick to her side to keep feeling this until she tells me to scram. Which will probably be soon.

  At her car, I’m prepping my goodbye. She has no more reason to come to our practices. I do need to thank her for trying to get Phil here, even if he turned out to be a douche.

  We both stand at her car door. Awkwardly. As if we’re back in fucking high school. She twists her key fob in her fingers, and I say, “Pepper” at the same time she says, “Luke.”

  We both laugh, and that gives us forward momentum. She angles her head to her car. “Can we talk?” She hits the unlock button and opens her door.

  My heart gives a hard kick. Hell, yes.

  I fast-walk around the hood before she can change her mind and lock the doors. My mind flashes back to nearly two weeks ago when I’d messed up bad and got in this car and stumbled through an apology.

  I fold myself into her passenger seat and gently shut her door. She’s got her A/C on full blast, but the radio is turned down, a bare suggestion of a jangly tune coming from the speakers.

  I twist my bulky body around so that I’m facing her but remain quiet. She’s steering this convo, and I don’t want to fuck it up by saying the wrong thing. Again.

  She mirrors my position and stares at me a minute.

  Fuck, it’s killing me to be this close and not be able to touch her. In the close confines of the car, her soft breathing and her scent starts to fill the space.

  “I want to apologize,” she says softly but with strength.

  That throws me. “For what?”

  “For pushing you out of my house the other night without talking things out with you. For assuming the worst of you.”

  While her words make sense, I’m still tense, waiting for the proverbial blow. “You were upset with me. I totally understand.”

  “No. You don’t.” She sighs and looks at a spot over my shoulder. “I was pushing you away because…because I didn’t want to wade through all this to see what could be.”

  I cock my head. Some of my confusion must show, because she continues.

  “I want to explore what we have going on between us, but…” She blows out a breath. “But you need to know why I overreacted.” She fills me in on how Phil had used her as one of his sources for pain meds. Good thing that fucker is gone, because I’d like to punch him even more now.

  She continues, “I’m…I’m not so good with emotions. I think I knew deep down you weren’t asking me to be unethical, but it just reminded me so much of how Phil had used me. I was tired, and I panicked and kicked you out because I worried about my emotions affecting me professionally.” She looks directly at me and bites her lip. “And that’s not fair to you. Or me.”

  My stomach churns. Part of me is elated, but the other part is scared shitless. Why is she giving me another chance? I fucked up. And I’ll fuck up again, I’m sure. She knows this.

  Though it pains me, I gotta come straight. I can’t get into a relationship with her if it’s going to end in a flaming pile of my fuckups.

  I clear my throat. “I can’t be what you need.”

  Chapter 18

  Luke

  She pulls back. Then her eyes narrow. “What do you mean? What do I need?”

  My fist clenches, and I rub it against my knee. “Not me, for damn sure. I rarely mess up, but I seem to be prone to it with you. You deserve better.”

  “I think I can judge what I need.”

  “See? I don’t say the right thing.”

  She stares at me for a moment. “What does messing up mean to you? I feel like I’m missing something here.”

  I shift in my seat because she’s hit on something I can’t quite name. It’s like a big ball of confusion and hurt and inadequacy, and it’s been there, lodged in my chest, ever since I can remember. Most of the time I’m not conscious of it. But when I fuck up, it’s there, ready to wash me in inadequacy.

  She leans forward. “You apologized. I accepted your apology and forgave you. I just apologized to you. Do you forgive me?”

  I frown. “Of course.”

  “Do you think any differently of me for having apologized?”

  “Nooo…” Owning up to mistakes is the right thing to do. Only insecure cowards deflect. The trick was not making them in the first place.

  I don’t know where she’s going with this, but it’s nudging at that ball, threatening to bust it open in my chest. I’m not sure I want that, but damned if I’ll get out of this car right now.

  She cocks her head, looking at me as a bird might look at a questionable meal. “But you’re confused about why I want to pursue things with you.” She reaches forward and tentatively touches my knee. I jerk at the unexpected touch, and instantly the space feels smaller between us, zinging with awareness.

  “I know you feel this. So it’s not that.” She pins me with her chocolate eyes.

  Her hand travels up my thigh and back to my knee.

  But I still can’t seem to articulate the contours of that ball and how it affects me. Because I have no fucking clue. It was shaped and solidified so long ago.

  She continues her soft strokes along my thigh, encouraging me. I have to say something. “Yes, I feel what we have. I…feel that.” I feel your hand. I feel what you do to me. I feel how you help me see, hear, and touch the world.

  “That’s good.” She strokes again. “So what is it then?”

  I’m panting now. Because there’s a strange fear clutching my chest, as if I know that somehow I’m going to open up, show my inner workings, because I can feel it crawling up me, even though I don’t know its shape.

  But it lodges somewhere. I still have no words.

  And I need them. But they’re stuck and that tightness grows.

  Her hand changes its usual course and begins a slow glide up my thigh, and then…oh Jesus, she cups my junk. I grow hard, my dick straining against my jeans. I close my eyes and groan.

  “What is it?” she whispers.

  She expects me to think? Now? When her hot little hand is stroking my hard-as-fuck cock? I can’t think, only feel. But I’m still struggling for words, because I want to answer her. She deserves it, even if it’s still the wrong thing to say. I have to trust her.

  But Jesus God, she’s stroking my cock and murmuring and shit, and…oh God, I can’t think. I actually—no lie—pull up my torture training. It works for a second. I pull up what I call the blue void—a kind of mental calm blank slate, but then I hear her voice as she murmurs again, and there’s no way my brain or body is buying that Pepper is torturing me. She cups the base and strokes up and passes her thumb over the head through the fabric.

  “How can you want me if I mess up!” I blurt, the words now unstuck.

  Shit.

  “Is that what you believe? That you can’t ever mess up?”

  It’s close, but not quite. “I…” I’m mentally groping.

  “What does it mean for you to mess up?”

  “Disappointment.” And more. Pain.

  “In yourself?”

  “No. Causing it.”

  She’s back to just stroking my thigh, as if she realizes she’d helped dislodge my words and now needs to give me space. “Is that the only emotion you associate with messing up?”

  “Rejection. My old man, he’d…he’d punish me if I made mistakes.”

  Her hand pauses, and then I have a warm handful of Pepper in my lap. She grips my face and forces me to open my eyes and look at her.

  Her eyes are alive with emotion, and I can almost see her placing puzzle pieces together, though what the picture is, I still don’t know. That terrifie
s me, but I’m also eager to hear it.

  “Are you telling me you feel as if you have to perform to a certain standard in order to be loved?” Her soft voice crosses the space between us and soothes that hurt inside.

  Yeah. Shit. I had no idea that’s what was inside that messy, messy ball in my chest. It’s cracked open and spilling its poison everywhere, and I realize it’s all colored by my old man. My old man shaped that ball and lodged it inside me. A ball that said I can’t mess up or I won’t succeed. Won’t be accepted. That ball also said I can’t be loved if I mess up.

  I’m panting as I stare into her eyes, and I don’t dare turn away. And it’s not lust. It’s fear. That cracked-open ball has left me feeling exposed. My instinct had been right.

  She strokes her thumbs over my cheeks and grips my head tighter. “You believe mistakes are a judgment on you. Your worth.” Her forehead wrinkles.

  I’m feeling my way with this too, but she’s sifting through that ball, and she’s correctly assessing the situation. I hadn’t looked at it that way before, but why would I?

  “We all make mistakes,” she whispers. “When I point them out, I’m not assigning a judgment to them. It’s how you handle a mistake afterward that matters.”

  She dips down and softly brushes her mouth across mine, and a rush of arousal swamps me, scouring out the poisonous feelings of inadequacy. I groan and clasp my hands around her waist, deepening the kiss.

  In the place where that ball had been lodged, I feel a tentative warmth suffusing me, and I relish it. Every dip of my tongue into her mouth is making another tie with her, stitching us together. I slant my mouth to take more of her in. I can’t get enough, and I smooth my hands up her waist until I’m cupping the soft curves of her breasts.

  A door slams nearby, and we jerk apart.

  Shit. It’s night time, sure, but Aiden keeps the parking lot lit like a damn football stadium.

  She looks at me. “My place.”

  “Now,” I say. “My place is closer, though.”

  She leaps into her seat, and we both strap in.

  Luke

  My heart doesn’t calm down in the short drive from the bar to my apartment. At my direction, she pulls into the underground garage accessible from the back, and we wind up a level to the resident slots. I’m reduced to grunts by this point, and I motion to the numbered slot between two pillars.

  She pulls in, and I hit the button on my seat belt, which whips back with a smack. I reach over to open the door when the thunk of the locks engaging fills the small space.

  What the—?

  I glance over at Pepper, and she gives a cat-in-the-cream smile. I never knew what that really meant. I mean, I got what it was supposed to mean, but I’d never really seen it in a person. Until now.

  She puts a finger to her lips. “Shh.”

  “Pepper…?”

  “Luke?” she sing-songs.

  She reaches over and brushes her hand just above my waistband, pushing up the hem of my T-shirt. “The way I see it, you feel like you have to perform to get the reward.”

  Huh? I’m trying hard to listen, I really am. But all the blood has rushed down to the tiny brain that’s right below her hand, straining for attention. For her attention.

  “Here’s what’s going to happen. We’re in a public garage. Anyone could walk by. You’re going to sit there and…” She glances around and snags something from the back seat. “And pretend to read this comic.”

  I’m all kinds of puzzled now, because her hand is stroking me, lust and urgency is streaking through me, and she wants me to read a fucking comic?

  “In the dark?”

  She glances out the back window and then back at me. She punches the button for the overhead light. “No one’s around now. But that can change. You’re going to sit there and read this comic and…”

  “And?” I croak. I’m completely and totally at her mercy. Clueless, but at her mercy.

  “And I’m going to do this.” She yanks the snaps of my jeans and…shit…she’s…she’s not…

  Oh shit. She is. Her hair is brushing against my stomach and her warm mouth is caressing the tip of my cock. “Jesus. Fuck.” I jerk and glance around. “What the fuck. You can’t do this. Not here.”

  I look down, and she’s staring up at me with a wicked gleam in her eye. Totally at odds with the prim bun she’s scraped her hair into. “This is for you. Because you’re you. Not because you had to earn it or ask for it.”

  “But…”

  But what? She’s right, though. I’m mentally flailing because I can’t just let her do this to me without me giving back. I’d be nuts to turn down a blow job though. So I reach over and stroke a finger along the small of her back, which is exposed from her stretching over to my seat. Inch under her waistband.

  She pulls her lips from my cock. “Nuh-uh. You’re reading a comic, remember? Both hands on the comic, held in front of you where anyone can see it.”

  I stare down at her, completely at her mercy and completely exposed. My breaths are coming in huge gasps, and she purrs. Her tongue darts out and licks the pre-cum from my head. I slam my head back against the headrest. “Fuck.” When the hell did my Pepper become a sex kitten?

  My whole body is tight as a wire, and I’m vibrating as if I could explode any minute. Taking in several measured breaths I bring the fucking comic up, and my hands…my hands are goddamn shaking. I can’t tell you what the comic is. It’s just a bunch of colored shapes and black lines and chicken scratch.

  Her warm hand fondles my balls, and heat streaks up my back. She’s stripped me bare, I’m not gonna last long, and her mouth is now clasped around me and slowly taking me all in. So hot. So moist. So tight. Her tongue swirls around on the way back up, and she gives the head an extra suck.

  I’m shaking all over. My skin flushes hot, the space around me closes in, and I’m clutching that damn comic like it’s the only thing shielding me from an IED. One more deft suck and pull, and that’s it. I’m gushing into her mouth as if it’s my first time, and I’m quivering and gripping the comic, and I can’t do anything but take. Take as she greedily swallows and licks and milks me dry.

  Holy fuck.

  Chapter 19

  Pepper

  I hurry onto the landing of Luke’s stairwell. The same one we hurried through together when I thought he was Rick the Lawyer, and I was channeling my new inner sex vixen.

  As before, his heat is at my back, but instead of feeling as if I’m testing a new skin, I’m just me. With him. And I’m buzzing with excitement and anticipation and other emotions I can’t begin to name.

  Except…except this is right.

  His powerful arm is cinched around my waist, his masculine scent enveloping me. As we turn up the final flight of stairs, I feel a gentle bite on my ear lobe, and his breath tickles my ear with his soft groan. Oh Jesus. I’m already about to crawl out of my skin, I’m so revved up. I don’t know how I knew the way to unearth what the heck was going on inside his head, but I’m glad I followed my instincts. Now I’m on fire for him, my panties damp, my clit throbbing.

  I’m still trying to process the relief and joy I feel that our talk brought us to this point, and like the first time at the coffee shop, I feel desperate to shore up the gains we made in our discussion by joining in the most intimate way possible.

  At the door, Luke fishes his keys from his jeans pocket, and this time I do angle my head and gently bite the bicep bulging right by my cheek.

  Cheengk.

  The sound of his dropped keys echo in the empty hallway. He growls and picks them up, and I giggle, which earns me a pinch on the butt. Why did I think fully opening myself up would weaken me? I feel as if I can conquer the world.

  I glance up as he works his key into the door. His gaze darts to mine, and a huge grin lights up his face. I think my mouth drops open a little, because he looks several years younger.

  “Okay, my sex kitten, wait till I get you inside.” He winks, pushes
open the door, and then I’m in the air, his arms cradling me. He bumps through the opening, flicks on the lights, and slams the door shut with his foot. I’m staring up at his face, and he’s looking back with such a hungry but fierce determination that my feet kick in the air, as if it’s some kind of reflex action. I swear my lady parts clench.

  Without taking his eyes from mine, he strides through his apartment, and I get a tour of the various ceilings behind his head—pebbly, smooth, back to pebbly… Then the ceiling blurs, and I’m airborne.

  Bounce.

  The sort-of soft cotton of his bedspread teases my calves and arms, and my body dips toward him a bit as he puts his good knee on the mattress. My gaze tracks up to his jean-clad thigh poised inches from me to linger—oh my. Despite the blow job I just gave him, he’s sporting an impressive bulge behind his Levi 501s.

  “Jesus, Pepper. What you do to me.” He grabs himself through the denim and gives a quick tug. Heat flares in my chest and arrows straight down, and I wiggle my legs. Antsy. Desperate.

  I bite my lip, hold his gaze, and drag my hand down my stomach. But I don’t even get to the place that aches for him, because the next thing I know I’m sliding across his bed, my skirt riding up my back from the friction, his grip tight on my ankle as he pulls me to the edge of the mattress. His gaze darts all over my body, a physical pressure of heat and power and desire sinking into my skin as it passes and turning into a delicious curl of steam, searing down to my core.

  “I have to taste you,” he says, his voice rumbling with a velvety mixture of iron control and need. Which—God—I don’t think I can ever tire of hearing all the nuances his voice might take.

  He flips up the front of my pale pink skirt and yanks my panties down to my ankles. I kick them free and open my mouth to say you don’t have to reciprocate, but all that emerges is a moan because he shoves my thighs wide and cool air hits my wet folds. He kneels down, and the rough pad of his finger strokes gently across my clit.

  Heat flares down my chest, and I’m all nerve endings. I arch upward, needing more friction, needing more. But Luke’s having none of it—he clamps onto my waist, holding me tight to his mattress with his strong hands, and drags his tongue lightly through my folds.