Sting

by Jennifer Ryder

  “Yeah,” I mutter, returning my focus to the story.

  “After carrying out the raids, a juvenile and two males were remanded in custody. The drugs seized have an approximate street value of three million dollars, which will have a significant impact on the supply and distribution in the community,” the newsreader states. Images of the pills and bottles with ice lined up in evidence bags flash on the screen.

  “You mind if I turn this off?” she asks, scrambling for the remote beside her.

  “Um, sure.”

  The room fills with a heavy silence. Willow sinks back into the couch and forces out a breath through her nose.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  “It just seems that the news is always about what’s wrong in the world.”

  “Yeah, I guess, but it’s good to see that sometimes the bad guys get caught.”

  “That’s if they can get them behind bars,” she scoffs.

  “The justice system has a lot to answer for,” I say, and take another mouthful of pie.

  I know I’m a piece of that puzzle, and I shouldn’t bag it, but too many times I’ve seen arseholes get off on technicalities. It fucking does my head in. Innocent until proven guilty, my arse. The public has no idea what we’re up against sometimes.

  “Yeah, it does,” she replies, her words curt.

  Silence hangs in the air. Willow puts her plate on the coffee table, her pie only half eaten. Any trace of happiness has left her pretty face. It’s like as soon as we changed rooms, she changed mood.

  Okay … moving right along. Maybe a change of subject is in order.

  “So tell me—I can probably already guess, but what was your favourite subject at school?”

  A smile quirks at the corner of her mouth. “You think you’ve got me pegged, do you?” she says, turning side on to face me.

  “Yup.”

  “Okay then. What do you think?”

  “Home Science,” I say with an affirmative nod.

  “Nope.”

  “Nope? What then?”

  She breaks eye contact and turns her head slightly before making contact again. “Phys Ed.”

  “Hmm, ’kay.” I frown, stumped that I got that wrong. I guess she looks the sporty kind, being fit and all, but I’m not convinced. “You lyin’ to me?”

  She smirks and squirms in her seat.

  “Did you just lie? Right to my face?”

  “Not exactly. I had two favourites—P.E. and Home Science. Don’t like being wrong, do you?”

  “I wouldn’t go scything that around. Technically, I’m not wrong. A favourite indicates one, Blondie.” I give her a wink, and poke her in the side. “So you were the quiet achiever. Kept your nose clean, and was a total suck-up to the teachers? Sound about right?”

  “I wasn’t a suck up.” She pouts that pretty mouth, confirming my suspicion.

  “Straight-A student?”

  “Pretty much. So what?” she says, all attitude.

  A deep chuckle rises up my throat. “Relax. I’m just yankin’ your chain.” I resist the urge to lick my plate clean, instead placing it on the table. “I don’t know what the hell you did to that chicken we had tonight, but it was incredible. In fact,” I say, lengthening out on the couch, and pulling her to lie beside me, “anything of yours I’ve put in my mouth tastes that good, it should be illegal.”

  “Are you being rude?”

  “Only if you want me to be.”

  “I was an apprentice chef,” she blurts out.

  Was?

  “So you never finished?”

  “No. Things didn’t quite go to plan, but I always dreamed of having my own place. When I came here, I had the opportunity to do what I wanted, and then I met Gabs at the hairdresser one day. We got to talking. We bonded over our love of coffee and sweet stuff, and the café kind of snowballed from there.”

  “That’s awesome. You guys make a great team. You should be proud.”

  “Yeah, I’m pretty lucky to have her in my life. For a lot of reasons. You know, without Gabs, this”—She motions her hand between us—“might not have happened.”

  “Oh, this was always gonna happen, Blondie.” I grin with satisfaction. She was no easy conquest, I’ll give her that, but I had that vibe from day one.

  She rolls her eyes and then shushes me. “So, I’m guessing you were into sports.” She relaxes into my arms and glides her fingers over my stomach to curl around my hip.

  “Yup. I was a jock. Rugby, swimming and all that.”

  “What about other subjects?”

  “Auto Tech, of course. I’ll admit I wasn’t the smartest scholar, but I was pretty good at school. Well, when I wasn’t letting myself get distracted by girls. My dad was a real ball-buster back then, which I no doubt needed. You know, horny teenager and all.”

  Willow runs her finger along my jaw, and we share a moment of silence. “You like working with Mick?”

  “Yeah. He’s a good bloke, but there are other things that I look forward to in my day, yeah?” I twist my body so her front is against mine. A deep blush rushes to her cheeks, as I curl a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. I find myself wanting to know more. “So, any brothers or sisters?”

  She closes her eyes and releases a long stream of air from her pursed mouth.

  “I had a younger brother,” she says, eyes still closed.

  Had? Well, fuck.

  I give her waist a gentle squeeze. Her eyelids flutter open, glassier now.

  “Hey, shit, I’m sorry.” Another squeeze.

  “It’s hard to talk about.”

  My heart constricts in my chest. What other shit has she had to deal with? Losing a sibling would be debilitating. I’d protect my sister to the ends of the earth. If I lost Cass …

  “I can’t imagine.”

  “I don’t talk about family. It’s too … hard.”

  Her parents aren’t local, and she rarely sees them. Her brother is dead. It seems like all she has is the café and the people she works with. How can this cutie, this giving, hard-working sweetheart have next to no one in her life?

  It’s not like I’m about to give her all the nitty gritty about mine—I can’t—but the thing I’m struggling with is that I want to. Never in the last two years have I wanted to bend the rules. Surely I can give her a little?

  “You don’t have to talk. It’s cool.”

  She blinks a few times in quick succession, and takes in a deep breath. Her fingers tease at my fringe, and run over the top of my scalp.

  “Tell me about you, though.” A fleeting smile crosses her lips.

  “I have a younger sister. She busts my balls any chance she gets.”

  She laughs, and her eyes crinkle at the sides. “I’d love to see that.”

  Will she get to bear witness to it one day? Meet Cass? My parents? How far will this thing go between us? Do I move here, to give it half a chance? One thing I know is that now I’ve had a taste, I’m not walking away. Not if I can help it.

  While I’m on the subject of taste …

  I lift my chin in the direction of the coffee table. “See that leftover pie there?”

  She twists her body towards it. “Yeah.” She shrugs one shoulder.

  “How do you feel about wearing it? Temporarily, of course.”

  Her body jerks in silent laughter. “I’d say I’m intrigued.”

  “Well, I’d say, I’m turned the fuck on.”

  I haul Willow into my arms, and throw her over my shoulder. She squeals and pounds her fists against my arse cheeks. It only adds to the stiffening of my dick.

  “Ryan,” she begs, and giggles. “What are you doing?”

  I squat down and pick up the pie, and stride towards her bedroom.

  “Having seconds of dessert,” I growl.

  I toss her in the middle of her bed and sit the plate on the nightstand. She giggles, and then sighs, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she takes in laboured breaths.

  “Strip,” I order, as
I shed my T-shirt, boardies and boxers as quickly as I can rip them from my body.

  Willow shimmies out of her shorts and G-string, and then puts her knees together and sits up to peel off her top. Once it’s over her head, she throws it at me.

  I scan the room, checking out the slatted timber bedhead. There are a good couple of inches between each slat—plenty of room to use one as an anchor.

  “Grab the bedhead, and don’t let go,” I warn.

  “What if I don’t want to hang on?”

  “I need you still. Trust me, Blondie. You’re gonna need something to hold onto because your sexy arse is about to squirm like mad.”

  Willow moves up the bed and lies back. She raises her arms and curls her fingers between the bottom two slats of wood. It’s as if her bed were made for this.

  I straddle her, sitting gently on her hips. I reach back and push her knees further apart.

  She resists a little at first, then opens them nice and wide. “That’s it. No need to be shy. I’m about to get real intimate here.”

  She stares at the swollen head of my cock and licks her lips. I’ve got a right mind to slap some pie on the end of it and let her suck it off. Maybe later. Right now, I can’t wait to have my mouth all over her.

  I dip my finger into the filling, and probe it between her parted lips. My mouth waters as she takes it in, her eager tongue wrapping around my digit as she provides the perfect amount of suction.

  Sweet suffering fuck.

  I take a larger scoop of the meringue topping, and rub some on each of her hardened dark pink nipples.

  Willow moans and squirms as I greedily make my way from breast to breast, baring teeth and sucking hard. A dollop of the lemon filling on her swollen clit is the final dessert destination.

  I couldn’t be hungrier. Or happier.

  “Should I, ah, keep going?” I lay a trail of open-mouthed kisses over her stomach. Her muscles clench beneath my lips. I make a trail with my finger down to her pussy, and lightly brush the soft skin of her inner thigh.

  She makes a noise low in her throat, then places both hands on my shoulders and pushes me down south. I think someone else is just as hungry.

  I’m presuming that whatever that noise was, it meant yes.

  I kneel between her outstretched legs, and lift her hips so the backs of her thighs rest on my shoulders.

  Burying my head between her legs, I eat Willow, swirling and sucking relentlessly at her sensitive flesh. It’s an intoxicating combination of sweet pussy and pie. This is some fucking dessert.

  As the shaking in her leg muscles intensifies, her thighs box my head between her legs. She tugs my hair between her fingers as she grips my scalp in her small hands.

  “Sweet, oh, Ry—”

  Her next words are garbled. She bucks her hips, and cries out. As her pussy pulses against my lips, I draw out the last of her orgasm by sucking her clit, hard.

  I shrug her legs off my shoulders, and they flop to the bed with no resistance.

  “Is there any pie left?” she asks, breathless and in some kind of daze. Her eyes roll back in her head and then she opens them again and tries to focus on my face.

  “Think so,” I mutter, and graze my teeth over her pebbled nipple.

  Willow presses a sweaty open palm to my chest and pushes me away. She twists onto her side and nods her head to the other side of the bed. “Lie back. It’s your turn.”

  I hope the fact I’m about to blow in record time won’t be held against me.

  I lie back, plump up the pillow and link my fingers together behind my head.

  She nudges my knees apart with hers and sits back on her heels. Her small hand wraps around my cock.

  “Hold the bedhead,” she says, and draws her bottom lip between her teeth.

  “I think I can control myself.”

  She angles her head to the side, and bats her dark lashes. “Do I have to tie you up?”

  Hmm. I’m not opposed to trying that shit. Seeing Willow tied up, legs spread and ready for me, would be enough to bring me to my knees.

  I grip the bedhead, exactly how she did. “Another time perhaps.”

  With a dirty grin, she spreads some dessert over the engorged tip and down my shaft. I twitch my cock. She gasps, taken aback, then grins like crazy.

  Before I know it, her eager mouth is on me. Her hot tongue explores my length, the moans from her mouth driving me closer to orgasm.

  What Willow lacks in rhythm, she makes up for in enthusiasm. It’s like she has a new toy she adores, and she’s working out exactly how to handle it. I don’t think she can make up her mind whether to be gentle or rough. It’s cute as hell, and the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever experienced.

  I grip the bedhead tighter and watch her intently as she guides me deeper into her mouth. What a beautiful sight.

  She gags, but persists. Don’t fucking laugh.

  My thigh muscles twitch. My balls tighten.

  When she glances up at me, my cock in her mouth and those baby blues full of desire, it’s my undoing.

  “I’m gonna come,” I grunt out, gripping the bedhead. Does she want me to come in her mouth or onto my stomach?

  She sucks harder and pumps her hand faster up and down my shaft. Guess there’s my answer.

  As my orgasm rips through me, Willow moves her hand up and down slowly, squeezing out every last drop. She sits back on her heels and swallows hard. She shudders, and a sleepy smile curls at her lips.

  “My pie tastes better on you,” she says, her voice husky from swallowing. Oh, man. She places her palms on my chest, my heart hammering to a crazy beat against her fingers.

  “Was it okay?” she whispers.

  I glance up at her eager eyes, which are waiting for an answer.

  “It was better than ‘okay’. Why would you think otherwise?”

  “I just, well, I never …”

  Wow.

  “No one’s ever come in that pretty mouth?” Damn, I might just beat my fists caveman-style on my chest. I was there first, fuckers.

  She jerks her head from side to side.

  She’s so eager to please me. Enthusiasm goes a long fucking way—in fact, it beats experience any damn day of the week.

  Snaking my hand around the nape of her neck, I pull her close, kissing her tenderly on the lips. Our foreheads meet.

  “It was perfect,” I assure her.

  ****

  After a long, hot shower, soaping each other up, any sticky remnants are long gone. I collapse into bed after her and draw her close, our fronts flush as we lie on our sides. Willow rests her head on my outstretched arm. Our legs tangle together, and we both sigh, like total girls.

  As we lie in silence, the bedside lamp casts a dim stream of light, highlighting the freckles dotted across her nose and the healthy blush to her cheeks.

  The niggling feeling in my gut resurfaces, like bacteria festering there. Call it the protector in me, but I need Willow to know that I’m here for her. Not just in the physical sense.

  I need to test the waters. Find out if my suspicions are right.

  “He won’t hurt you again. I won’t let it happen.” I swear he won’t get the chance.

  She stiffens in my arms, and her eyes widen. The look in her eyes is akin to that of a scared rabbit.

  “What? How?” she whispers.

  I comb my fingers through her hair, and swirl them at the nape of her neck. She relaxes a little but glances downward, focusing on my chest. I tilt her chin upwards with my crooked finger.

  “You don’t have to say anything. I’m just sayin’ I care, Willow. I’m one of the good guys.” You can trust me.

  A hint of a smile now. Thank fuck. “You are, huh?”

  “Yup. I’m pretty sure the bad guys don’t go around sprucing that.”

  “No, but they’re good at putting on a front,” she blurts out. She closes her eyes and shakes her head, as if she regrets saying it.

  Should I press her further about this? It�
��s clearly a sensitive topic.

  “Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to say it like that, like I’m accusing you of not being a good guy, it’s just—”

  I press my finger to her lips. “Shush. I take good care of my friends, Blondie. That’s a promise.”

  “You still see me as a friend?” Her lips quirk to one side.

  “Absolutely. We can be friends as well as lovers.” Something new to me, but so far, so fucking good. “If I had an ounce of energy left, I’d further assure you exactly how I can take care of you.”

  She runs her finger over the five-day growth on my chin, that’s starting to itch like crazy. “If I wasn’t about to pass out from exhaustion, I’d let you.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  Good. We have some kind of understanding. Her past is still unclear, but at least she knows where I stand.

  I kiss her goodnight, and she rolls over. As I spoon her, a wave of contentment washes over me while I drift off to sleep.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  WILLOW

  After giving the plants a good soak before I drive in to work, I turn off the hose and loop it around the hose reel. It’s been four weeks, and my garden is flourishing. So are my feelings for Ryan.

  I can’t take all the credit for the healthy state my garden is in, because I know for a fact that Ryan sneaks here during the day. The ground is always damp beneath the straw, and in this summer heat it should be bone-dry by the end of the day. It never is. Instead, our plants are growing just like the weeds used to on my watch. I know it’s weird to call them ours, but they are our plants. It’s a team effort going on here.

  It’s a beautiful thing to see something grow from a little seedling to something strong, capable of bearing fruit, or vegetables, as the case may be.

  Ryan and I have spent as much time together as we can, which sometimes is only a couple of hours here or there. The café is always extra busy with tourists in the Christmas holidays, and Ryan and Mick seem to be working all the time. Sometimes it’s early morning starts, other times it’s late nights. I guess like any business, working for a charter company is hard work. Any time we spend together is a blessing. My gentle giant makes me laugh, makes my body sing, and above all, he’s given me the hope that I can have a normal life, and have someone special to share it with.