Candy Ever After (Hot Candy Book 2)

by Jo Raven

  “I’m not hormonal!” That starts another round of sobs, because OMG this is so unfair. “And I’m not pregnant, and both of you stop it.”

  I beat my fists on Jet’s chest again, for effect, and he gasps dramatically.

  “No, please don’t hurt me,” he whines in a very bad female impersonation, and the combination with his scruffy face and tangled dark hair, together with the sound of my fists falling on his muscled chest, makes me laugh.

  Great, now I’m crying and laughing at the same time. “Jet. Stop making me laugh.”

  “Laughter is good for you. Candy…” Worry edges into Jet’s voice. “Did I fuck up with your parents?”

  “Now you care?” Joel mutters. “I told you this was important to her.”

  “No, you said it was important to them.” Jet’s cheekbones color, and I wonder what he means.

  “That it was important to my parents?” I ask.

  “Yeah. And I’ll be honest with you, girl, I couldn’t care less what your parents think. But if getting along with them and pretending to be a virgin pure as the driven snow is important to you, I’ll fucking do it.” Jet nods.

  I beat my fists on his chest one more time, just to feel the strength in his muscular body. “I don’t care what my parents think.”

  “You don’t?” Joel asks. “But you’re crying.”

  “I’m not anymore,” I say, turning in the circle of their arms to face him. “I’m mostly annoyed with Dad who suddenly decided to defend my honor against my boyfriends! And okay, with Mom for suddenly not wanting my dad, and discovering sex and being so… open about it. For thinking of you both as large scale, walking and talking sex toys.”

  “So I was right, huh?” Joel mutters, his brow furrowing. “That’s…”

  “Creepy?” Jet suggests.

  “…icky,” I tell them. “She has to learn some boundaries.”

  Problem with my mom is that she never had many boundaries to start with.

  “Oh, come on,” Joel says, rubbing my back with one hand. “Your parents seem nice. Really nice. Unlike mine.”

  “Not to mention mine,” Jet says darkly.

  “I know.” I hang my head. “I know, okay? They just get under my skin.”

  “Only we get to be under your skin,” Jet says softly, but a note of uncertainty on the last word makes it sound like a question.

  “That’s right,” I whisper and hug both of them, smiling widely. “Only you two matter.”

  At the end of the day, weird parents or not, I’m one lucky girl. I just hope this happiness lasts.

  ***

  “Your boys are lovely,” Mom says, beaming, as we kiss goodbye later on, after a too-quiet rest of the lunch. “Lovely.”

  “Thanks,” I say cautiously. “Mom, will you be okay, you and Dad?”

  “Oh, that depends on him,” she says, laughing. “If he adapts, I’ll keep him.”

  Not sure what’s there to laugh about. “Mom. Why are you so obsessed with sex all of a sudden? What’s going on?”

  “It’s not sudden, baby girl.” She strokes my cheek, or tries to, but she gets distracted by Jet and Joel putting on their jackets and she strokes my nose instead. “For a long time I told myself it didn’t matter. Then I read Fifty Shades of Grey and decided not to sell myself short.”

  “What, just like that you questioned your whole life? Because of a book?”

  “No, don’t be ridiculous. I watched the movie, too.”

  Oh God. “Are you serious? What do you want, Dad to tie you up and whip you, then fly you to the opera in his private chopper?”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Mom says absently, still stroking my nose. “I hate opera, and whips are tricky.”

  Oh Lord. This day can’t get any worse... right?

  “Candace,” Dad says, putting his arms awkwardly around me. He has never been one for lots of hugging and smooching. “You take care of yourself in this situation you’ve placed yourself in.”

  Crap.

  “You could at least pretend to be happy for me, Dad,” I say, drawing my lower lip between my teeth, willing my eyes not to leak again. “Why can’t you?”

  “Because… Because one day you’ll get married, and when the priest says, kiss the groom, who will you kiss?”

  Is he serious? “I’m not getting married in a church. And if I am, the priest says kiss the bride, not the groom. Also, I’d kiss them both.”

  There.

  Dad opens his mouth, closes it, then tries again. “And what about… your kids? How will you know whose kid it is?”

  “Well, there are DNA tests. If we decide we want to know. But I’m pretty sure the boys don’t care. And neither do I, because I love them both.”

  Awww, Joel’s and Jet’s babies. I try to keep the stars from twinkling in my eyes at the thought. I don’t feel ready to be a mom yet, but maybe one day…

  Dad isn’t done with me yet, though. “It’s proven that erotic triangles don’t work in the long term.”

  “What? That’s what you got from everything I’ve said?” Anger sizzles in my blood. Forget the stars. I bet my eyes are glowing like neon signs. “Maybe you’re going deaf, Dad. Didn’t you hear me? I said I love them. This isn’t an erotic triangle. It’s a relationship.”

  “It won’t work out,” Dad says stubbornly, setting his jaw and shoving his hands in his pockets.

  “You’re wrong.” I shake my fist at him. “Just because you and Mom don’t have sex anymore and she’s looking elsewhere doesn’t mean you get to declare doom on my love life!”

  And… another rippling silence spreads. I feel eyes on the back of my head and turn around slowly.

  Yep. The whole restaurant is looking at me, again.

  Oops.

  Time to blow this pop stand before I make more public declarations that weren’t meant for bystanders’ innocent ears.

  “Well, goodbye.” I grab my boys around their lean hips and get ready to bolt. “It was nice seeing you.”

  “Candy,” Mom begins.

  “Don’t send me anymore emails about the sex toys you have discovered, Mom. This thing between you and Dad… figure it out between the two of you.”

  “Sex toys?” Dad growls. “Are you serious?”

  “As a heart attack,” I mutter.

  Wait, is he really so out of the loop? Does Mom tell him anything at all, or am I the only lucky one who gets to hear it?

  “Goodbye!” Mom calls and waves, smiling—and then she mouths at Jet, “You rock, handsome.”

  Okay, what the what?

  Fuming, and still mortified, I drag the boys out—or they are the ones who drag me out, hard to tell. I guess we are dragging each other, all of us in a hurry to get away from my family.

  I turn on Jet the moment we’re out. “What did you tell her? Spill.”

  He shrugs. “I gave her some tips on vibrators.”

  I gape at him. “You’re kidding me.”

  “Look,” Jet says. “I know this weirds you out and she’s your mom and all. But she’s also a woman. And she’s right to look for ways to be happy and satisfied. And if your dad has no clue, well, he can learn. It’s never too late.”

  He sounds so serious. Could he be right about this? Should I help Mom fix her love life with Dad so that they can live happily ever after?

  That’s what made me cry like a little girl, I realize. The idea of them falling apart, going their own ways.

  If that’s the fate of everyone, then what about us?

  Chapter Five

  Joel

  When I told my parents I wanted to play with the kid next door, they told me I should never again consider talking to an immigrant child.

  When I told my parents I wanted to study history, my dad informed me I was going to study something worthwhile, like business administration. Mom didn’t say a word.

  Throughout my childhood, my sister kept revolting, and I kept learning what was allowed and what wasn’t. I was sent to my room wh
en I said the wrong thing, dad brought out the belt time and again, until I learned to say and do the right things. The things that made my parents happy. Everything was clear and easy and straightforward for a long while.

  Until it wasn’t anymore. Until everything changed.

  Turns out life is like that: all curves and bends you can’t foresee. And I kinda like it that way.

  As we enter our apartment and I toss the car key into the bowl on the small table by the sofa, I’m not sure what bothered me more today—the fact we’re talking openly about our sex lives with Candy’s parents—okay, her mom—or that her mom is openly talking about hers.

  Parents, in my experience, are not like that. At all. And I’m not just referring to the sex talk.

  Yeah, my dad would rather die than get caught discussing the love life of his son. And my mom wouldn’t be interested in anything else but healthy lifestyle TV shows—or wouldn’t admit to caring.

  But I also never saw my parents discuss anything, period. Or go out together to have lunch, with their kids, or on their own. They don’t care about each other, or about us.

  This thought, this fucking thought stabs me deeper than I’d expected, and I stop to suck in a sharp breath.

  Why is this bothering me so much?

  I’ve managed to avoid thinking about my parents since Candy moved in with us, to shove the thought of them to the back of my mind, bury it deep, bury their disapproval, their disinterest in what I need, their obsession with their own ideas of how my life should be.

  It’s a sting in the back of my mind, a burning ache, and I need it gone. Buried deeper. Pushed further, until it’s crushed.

  “Knock knock.” Jet taps the side of my head, snapping me out of my pity-party. “Anybody in there?”

  I slap his hand away. “You’re in a fucking good mood.”

  “We’re home,” he says with a wide grin, and he looks so damn happy, I swallow my next snappish remark.

  Instead I grab him in a bear hug. “Yep, we are. Welcome home, fucker.”

  He yelps and fights me a little, but quickly settles in my arms, sliding his around my hips. “You looked so far away for a moment there.”

  “Nah, I’m right here.”

  Caught in these fucking useless thoughts, when I could be making plans for the rest of the day. What should bother me is losing my Sunday to the in-laws and seeing Candy nervous and stressed, instead of spending a peaceful and sex-filled day with my girlfriend and boyfriend. My priorities are screwed up.

  But there’s still time to make up for it, I think, when Candy joins us, sliding her hands over our shoulders and smiling up at us, her brown eyes warm.

  Plenty of time.

  I lean down to kiss her, and plans are already forming in my head—we could take this to the sofa, or do it against the wall. There are things I wanna try. An image of Candy going down on Jet as I fuck her from behind hits me, and I grow hard real fast.

  Jet’s groan tells me he’s thinking in similar lines. His hand slips behind my head, tugging on my short hair, and he bends over my neck, trailing his lips on my pulse.

  Fuck, this day’s improving by leaps and bounds, and I grin against Candy’s lips, letting my hand drop down to her waist, under the elastic of her skirt…

  … And of course right then a loud and irritating noise starts from behind us.

  It takes me a long moment to realize it’s the fucking doorbell.

  I groan. Christ.

  “Ignore it,” I whisper, kissing the corner of Candy’s mouth. “They’ll go away.”

  Jet seems to have the same idea, because he bites the side of my neck hard enough to jolt me, his hand on my hip moving down to my ass and squeezing. “Fuck ’em.” He lifts his head a little, dark eyes narrowing. “Unless it’s your parents, of course. We don’t fuck your parents.”

  I cough, laughter catching in my throat at his seriousness.

  “We don’t know who it is,” Candy whispers, pulling back an inch—as much as my grip on her waist allows.

  “It can’t be your parents,” I say, more loudly than I’d planned, but come on. “We just left them.”

  “But if it’s an emergency?”

  Another groan rumbles up my chest as she twists out of my grasp and flashes me a quick smile. “I’ll just see who it is, okay?”

  “It can’t be her parents,” Jet mutters, echoing my thoughts, but sounding unsure. “Can it?”

  “Maybe her mom wants more of your advice on vibrators,” I say dryly.

  He muffles a laugh on my shoulder, and I ruffle his wild hair. I like how easy it is to be with him now, since I’ve allowed myself to do what feels good and right. How easy it is to love him and touch him and enjoy the way he rubs himself on me and sighs against my neck.

  The fact I love a man—and a woman—never fails to amaze me. I didn’t know I was capable of loving anyone a couple of months ago. Didn’t know I was capable of following my feelings instead of my logic, that I was capable of finding happiness where I least expected it.

  “It’s Brylee!” Candy calls from the door. “Hey, girl, hi! And Simone!”

  Jet lifts his head and we exchange a resigned look. “Fuck,” he says, and I whole-heartedly agree.

  Besides, who the hell is Simone? Can’t we catch a fucking break today?

  But Brylee says something that has Candy laughing, and I forget to be angry, because the sound does funny things to my chest, making my heartbeat trip and my mouth twitch.

  This girl. She’s an addiction.

  Jet props an elbow on my shoulder and turns to look as Candy comes toward us, Brylee and the mysterious Simone in tow, all smiles.

  Whoa. Pink hair alert. Simone has caramel skin and bright pink hair, and still manages to look subdued and conservative in her knee-length black skirt and cream sweater. She’s wearing pearl earrings, for chrissakes.

  “Sit. We made cookies yesterday, you have to try them!” Candy deposits the girls on the sofa and flits to the kitchen. “Lemonade, cranberry juice, tea, coffee?”

  “Tea would be great,” Brylee says.

  Her friend sits there, eyes downcast, pink hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, twisting her hands in her lap. Whoa, girl looks shy as hell.

  Not Brylee, though.

  She waves at us brightly. “Hi boys! How are things? Having a good time with Candy?” She then proceeds to point at us and tell her friend, “They stole my roommate. Can’t tell you how long it took me to train her, and now they reap the benefits.”

  “Train her?” I wander closer, despite my better judgment. “How?”

  “Your mind just landed in the gutter, didn’t it?” She waggles her brows and doesn’t wait for me to reply. “I trained her as a roommate, silly. I taught her things like, when you put a red sock on your door handle it means you’re having wild bunny sex, or when there’s man trouble you’re expected to go out and buy chocolate mint ice cream and download a romantic comedy, or—”

  “Not sure Candy needs this training anymore,” Jet says, waving a hand back and forth, and throws himself in the armchair, spreading his legs and folding his arms over his chest. “Right, J?”

  “No need for the red sock,” I agree, “since she’s always welcome to join the wild bunny sex session. Also, if there’s man trouble, then it’s with one of us.”

  “Or both of us,” Jet adds.

  “Or that.”

  Simone’s eyes are bugging out of her head.

  Jet grins wolfishly.

  Brylee sighs and shakes her head. “So much training gone to waste. Come, sit.” She pats the cushion next to her, as if expecting me to squeeze in beside her and the timid Simone. “Tell Brylee how you’ve been.”

  Okay. I admit honestly that I don’t know what to make of this girl, but she’s Candy’s bestie, so hey, I can’t kick her ass out in the cold.

  Plus, she was the one who called Candy to let her know Jet had been stabbed, when his crazy dad decided to kill him in the back alley of a bar, and
just for that she deserves to live.

  For now.

  So I rein in my fraying temper and sit on the armrest of Jet’s armchair instead. As a plus, I get Jet’s arm sliding around my back, and that helps calm me down more.

  Meanwhile, Simone seems to have forgotten about being the shyest girl alive, because she says, not even trying to keep her voice low, “Whoa, it’s so hot seeing guys together.”

  Ah-huh.

  Jet arches a brow at me, and I swallow laughter. “So, Simone,” he drawls, “you wanted to see it with your own eyes?” His arm tightens around me. “Wanna stick around, see us suck face, maybe fondle each other? Or would you rather discuss the best positions for a threesome, instead?”

  Simone makes a noise like she swallowed a fly.

  Brylee scoffs. “Like you would.”

  “Don’t give him ideas,” I say, jerking a little when Jet’s fingers dig into my hip. “He was just talking vibrators, pros and cons, with Candy’s mom. He’s on a fucking roll.”

  “Holy crap,” Brylee says, her eyes going round.

  “I know, right?”

  She leans back. “I have a question, then. See, I’ve been wondering… If I use a dildo, do I still count as a virgin?”

  A hush falls over the room.

  I stare at Brylee. “You’re a virgin?”

  Jet’s grin turns sharper. “Saving your cherry for your prince? Ryan, was it?”

  Oh dammit. I hadn’t thought of that. Candy let slip that Brylee believes in fairytales, and love that was meant to be. Also in princes riding on unicorns and fucking fairies.

  This girl is seriously messed up in the head. I’d blame her parents, but I don’t know them. I mean, look at Candy’s mom. Candy’s nothing like her. Clear proof right there that parents aren’t to blame for everything.

  And then look at my parents. Or even worse, Jet’s dad.

  Okay, better not visit that topic. Red mist descends over my eyes at the memory of how his dad tried to kill him, how I almost lost him—

  “Saving my cherry for my prince isn’t as bad as you make it sound,” Brylee says, giving a dreamy smile.

  “You could always try anal,” shy Simone says. “You know. While waiting.”

  I blink at her. Wait, did she just say that?