Candy Ever After (Hot Candy Book 2)

by Jo Raven

  “Hey, Riddick.” Jet high-fives his cousin who’s followed inside by a blonder version of himself. Has to be his younger brother, Xavier. “Glad you came, man.”

  “Sorry I left like that last time.” Riddick’s mouth twists in a grimace. “How’s things?”

  Gawd, that’s one pretty family. Sharp jaws, long-lashed eyes, soft lips, whipcord bodies and broad shoulders… Between them and Jet, they could sell igloos to Eskimos. To Eskimo women, to be precise. And probably the men too.

  Hell, I’d buy an igloo off them.

  And from the looks of it, so would Brylee, who gasps, staring openly at Riddick.

  The cat yawns.

  “Hi, Riddick,” she says.

  Brylee, not the cat.

  “Hi, Brylee,” he replies, and would you look at that, he remembers her name, too. He really seems to like her. A pity she’s so hung up on this Ryan Prince guy.

  Anyway… we’re all here now, except for my parents, and this time when the doorbell rings, I flinch.

  Time to face the escorts…

  ***

  “Hello boys and girls!” Mom waves madly as she enters the apartment, dressed in a white fur coat and her lips coated in deep red lipstick.

  What the hell happened here?

  Her transformation, complete with fifties hairdo and old-fashioned high heels shocks me for a moment, the moment she and Dad take to enter.

  I step back, watching them mutely. By the time I regain the power of speech, Mom is happily chatting away to Holden who’s mainly nodding and drinking his wine, while Dad is piling up a plate full of snacks from the table.

  At least I see no escorts standing around. That’s a relief.

  Mom turns to Jet who’s been talking to Brylee and Simone—the cat is hunting wildebeests underneath the table, apparently—and I hurry closer, as if I can prevent her from embarrassing me.

  And…

  “I read somewhere,” Mom says, “that frequent ejaculation protects you from prostate cancer.”

  Okay. This is worse than I thought. I open my mouth as I halt beside Jet, casting about for something to say.

  “I knew it,” Jet says. “That’s why I jack off twice a day.”

  “Only twice?” Mom wags a finger at him. “That might not be enough.”

  “You’re right. I should do it more often.”

  Joel slips an arm around me. “And you were worried about Brylee bringing a dick-shaped cake?”

  “How right you are,” I say. “The pussified one won’t cut it now.”

  Mom pats her hair. “Jet, those vibrating buttplugs you recommended me—”

  “Mom.” I grab her arm and haul her away. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Sure thing, baby girl. Why the rush? I was just about to tell Jet how grateful—”

  “Yes. I mean, no, don’t do that, Mom. Not where everyone can hear you. Listen…” We stop at the kitchen door. “Dad loves you.”

  Her brows arch. “Yes?”

  “He does!”

  “Yes. I know that, darling.”

  “But… but…” I sputter. “You keep telling me he doesn’t satisfy you! And you wanted to find an escort! Both of you!”

  A familiar hush settles over me and I glance around to find everyone staring at us.

  Oh shit.

  “In here.” I haul Mom into the kitchen, and there we find Dad at the table, eating.

  “That looks good, Donny.” Mom steals a canape from his plate. “Mmm. Did you make this, Candy?”

  “No, that was Joel, he’s the chef. Mom… Dad…”

  “Candy was telling me that you love me.” Mom perches on Dad’s lap and feeds him another canape. “Isn’t she sweet?”

  “Hm…” Dad agrees, chewing.

  My eyes are bulging out of their sockets, like in the cartoons. “You guys… What are you doing?”

  Mom frowns at me. “Eating?”

  “You’re feeding Dad! And sitting on his lap.”

  “That’s what people in love do, baby girl.”

  “But you… You’re looking for escorts…” I’m officially confused. “What’s going on?”

  “Oh, that.” Dad wipes his mouth on a paper napkin. “Well, your mom and I had a long talk about sex. She needs more, and I’ll try to give it to her. I hadn’t realized. So we’re trying toys, but I’m kinda clueless, and YouTube videos only confuse me.”

  “So,” Mom takes over, “we decided to hire an escort to train us how to use them. The toys. And how to get maximum satisfaction.”

  “Oh.” The words are gone again. I’m openly gaping at my parents, my mind frozen on a selection of possible images.

  Mom and Dad. Skimpy underwear. Sex toys. An escort.

  Oh no. I’ll need bleach to scour the inside of my head.

  “So…” I wave a hand as if that will magically put everything in its right place. “You guys are fine together? Mom, you’re not leaving Dad?”

  “Leaving him?” She laughs delightedly. “Only if he leaves with me.”

  Okay. That’s… a NO, right?

  “Good. Awesome. You guys stay here and, um… eat your canapes, and whatever. And I love you.”

  “We love you, too, baby girl,” Mom says, her eyes bright. “I wish you and your boys all the happiness in the world.”

  “Thanks,” I whisper and walk out blindly. My eyes are full of tears, but my heart’s full of prancing unicorns, and I’m smiling.

  ***

  Sometime later, we’re all sitting in the living room, stuffing our faces with food and the wine that’s flowing freely all around. Even the cat is lurching drunkenly and I wonder if she licked someone’s glass when we weren’t looking.

  Brylee’s pussified cake is inedible, although Holden is eating a piece. Holden is special. His words have made my day. I really hope he finds someone who will appreciate just how wonderful he is.

  Also, I hope he won’t get poisoned by Brylee’s cake, so I get up to go and warn him.

  But Joel stands up, pushing me back in my seat, and clears his throat.

  The only sound is the soft noise of people chewing canapes and sandwiches, and Holden’s crack-crack as he munches on the inedible cake. What did Brylee put in it, rocks?

  “Thank you all for coming here tonight,” Joel says, flashing us a smile. “I wanted to meet Jet’s and Candy’s family, and for them to meet mine. Sadly, my parents couldn’t make it.” A dark cloud passes over his clear gaze, but his smile persists. “But that’s okay, because my sister is here with her man, and that means so much to me.”

  “Love you, Joey!” Evangeline shouts, and giggles.

  Someone’s had a bit too much wine to drink.

  His smile widens. “Brat.”

  “Hey now,” Micah mutters, mock-glaring at Joel and pulling Evangeline against him.

  At least I hope he’s mock-glaring. The whole protective vibe is strong in him.

  “It was great seeing Riddick again, and meeting Xavier, Jet’s cousins. And having Candy’s parents and brother here.”

  Holden raises his glass and sticks out his tongue at Joel. Uh-oh. This one definitely had one too many.

  Booze may help his stomach digest the rock-and-pussy cake, though.

  “Meeting you all was my main goal,” Joel goes on, drawing my attention back to him. “Having you meet each other. Because as you know by now, these two people, Candy and Jet, are my partners, my lovers, my girlfriend and my boyfriend. They mean everything to me, and I wanted to tell you this. To tell you…” His gaze flicks to me, then to Jet.

  His cheeks color.

  What is he trying to say? Jet looks as confused as I feel.

  “To tell you that these are the two people I want to spend my life with,” Joel goes on, his voice going quiet. He pulls something from his pocket, a small red box, and opens it. “And although it may be too early to ask them to marry me, it’s not too early to promise them I’ll love them forever.”

  Oh my God. What is he doing?


  What he’s doing is that he’s going down on his knees in front of us. I’m sitting on the sofa, and Jet on a chair beside, and we’re both staring at the guy we thought would leave us because his parents told him to.

  He’s holding two rings, one in each hand, offering them to us. One is more slender than the other, and they are made of three metallic threads, black, gold and silver, twined together.

  Three bands, intertwined. Like us.

  God, I’ve barely managed to dry my tears from seeing my parents so happy, and now they’re welling up again in my eyes. I sniffle, and wipe my hand under my nose, because that’s so classy, and also I don’t have Kleenex on me.

  “Jet and Candy.” Joel’s eyes are bright, his cheekbones flushed. “Will you stay with me? Be with me, in sickness and in health, in the cold of winter and the heat of summer, weathering the bad and enjoying the good times… Will you?” He swallows hard, his gaze finding mine, then Jet’s. “I love you both more than I can say. Will you walk with me, and lie with me, and wake up with me, now and always?”

  Jet moves first. He sort of slides down to the floor, landing on his knees, and throws his arms around Joel. The rings fall to the carpet just as I push off the couch to join my boys. We hug for a long while, the sound of clapping and wolf-whistling fading to a dull thud in my ears.

  Then Joel pulls back, gathers the rings, and puts them on our fingers. He has a matching one, it turns out, that Jet and I slide on his ring finger together, and then we sit there, in silence.

  I sniffle.

  “So…” Joel rubs at his mouth that’s quirked into an uncertain half-smile. “Is that a yes?”

  Finally, Jet stirs and draws a shaky breath. “Now and always, J,” he whispers.

  I nod, my heart pounding, smiling so widely my face hurts. It’s a good pain. “Now and always. God, yes, always and forever.”

  It’s not the rings, or the words we spoke. It’s everything, and it’s binding us together in a knot of love that tells me we’ll live happily ever after.

  Candy Boys

  By Jo Raven

  PART I

  When life gives you bananas, make a smoothie

  Chapter One

  CANDY

  Post title: You Won’t Believe This

  From Candy Boys (Blog Serial)

  J-One licks his lips suggestively and pulls me onto his lap. “Ready for this, baby?”

  Is this a trick question? I’m always ready for him and he knows it.

  For them.

  J-Two nuzzles my neck from behind, leaving a trail of goosebumps on my skin. “Just get on with it, J,” he grumbles. “You’re wasting time.”

  “Use your mouth for something else, will you?” J-One slides his hands up my body, eyes heavy-lidded.

  “Yeah? Like what?”

  “Let’s talk about bananas…”

  Hm. Sure.

  Why not, right?

  You know how there are people who hang out in bookshops, browsing books and secretly sniffing the musty odor of their pages? How they are often nerdy, with glasses and Star Wars hoodies, giving you that nervous sideways glance when they catch you looking? The real bookworms? The archetypal readers?

  Well, the guy who just walked through the door is nothing like that.

  Let’s back up a little. This day didn’t start out promising at all. Cloudy and dark, with a chilly wind, and I realized too late I had run out of coffee.

  Candace Amanda Riley, I told myself sternly, you got this.

  But then my car wouldn’t start. And when I arrived at the shop, it was only to find out Annie, the other girl working here, quit. Chris from the coffee shop next door says she eloped to Vegas with a guy she just met.

  Let me note here that today it’s Thursday. I mean, come on. Things can’t go that bad on a Thursday. There’s Mondays for that!

  So this guy walks in and the day suddenly turns better. The clouds clear, the sun comes out, and he’s standing there, backlit like an angel, a radiance forming a halo around his dark hair, lighting up his face—and his body.

  I adjust my glasses for a better look and let out a shuddery breath.

  Oh God, he’s tall. And those shoulders. They seem to fill the shop from side to side. Those narrow hips. Those spectacular biceps, bulging when he lifts a hand to push his hair out of his blue eyes.

  Wait a minute. I know those eyes.

  The beautiful stranger walks up to me, and I take a step back, because he’s not really a stranger. I know him, very well. As much as it is possible without actually sleeping with him, that is.

  J-One. J the runner. J the Powerhouse.

  Joel Kingsley.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I blurt, gesturing at the shelves filled with comics and fantasy books and posters.

  Because, come on. I may have been in lust with Joel since my first day in college, an infatuation and a crush that didn't end with this graduation, but can we please address the elephant in the room?

  Joel Kingsley is an athlete and a business major. He doesn’t like fiction. He doesn’t like novels. He doesn’t like books. In short, he doesn’t like any of the things I care for. He hangs out in noisy places, flirts with anything in a skirt, and all in all, his trajectory never touches mine.

  Never has touched, until now. Not in real life, anyway, no matter what I claim on my blog.

  “Hi there,” he says in his smooth, deep voice, and smirks. I bet he didn’t even hear my question. It’s a confident, I-melt-girls’-panties-for-breakfast sort of smirk—and God, it works. I wonder if I brought spares with me. “I bet you’re the right person to help me.”

  I can’t reply. My voice will come out all squeaky.

  Help him. Sure. Help him undress, maybe. Help combat stress with a deep-tissue massage. Orgasms are known to relax men, aren’t they? I could do that.

  “Never been here before. Didn’t know what I was missing,” he says, still looking at me, and oh crap.

  He’s even more handsome from up close. Those sky-blue eyes are looking straight at me, turning my knees weak and my pussy wet.

  “Ahem.” And here comes the squeak I’ve been trying to avoid. Come on, Candy. You have the power of speech. Use it. “Are you sure you’re in the right place?”

  I clear my throat as he glances around the shop as if realizing for the first time what sort of shop he walked into.

  Books. That’s right. It’s what’s normally kept and sold in bookstores. Shocker, I know. I eye him as he turns to take in the shop fully, a hundred-and-eighty turn, his gaze sharp, as sharp as his square, scruffy jaw.

  I lick my lips and mentally compose my newest post for my blog. Title: You won’t believe who walked into the bookshop today.

  Subtitle: Be very jealous.

  Maybe I can snap a quick picture of him with my phone? Just for documentation purposes. I mean, he must be used to it, right? Girls drooling and snapping pics of him.

  Did I mention he used to run track at college? I remember all of us sighing whenever he ran by. Cheering. Imagining what could be if he spoke to us, flirted with us. Slept with us.

  And he’s grown even more handsome in the past year. Kinda rugged and a lot sexier.

  Of course, even back then he slept with anything with a skirt and a heartbeat, and yet we couldn’t hate him. We only wished to be next to land in his bed.

  “I’m looking for a book,” he finally says, snapping me back to reality. I force my gaze away from his face, trying to get my brain back into working order.

  “A book.”

  He nods, and his smirk goes lopsided, allowing a dimple to appear. “About bananas.”

  A dimple. And a book… Wait, wait.

  “You want a book about bananas?” Someone pinch me. This is surreal. “Would that be, um… for you?”

  “What?” He blinks those thick-lashed, blue eyes at me, and I kinda lose the thread, too. “Oh, no. It’s for my roommate.”

  Oh lordy. His roommate. The legendary, mythical Jethro Con
nors.

  Well, at least mythical in my world. I’ve only ever seen him in pictures on Joel’s Instagram and Facebook profiles.

  Yep, I’m stalking them on Instagram. And Facebook. And every other media available.

  So sue me. It’s harmless, I swear. No real-life stalking, which makes the fact this guy’s here all the more exciting. And hey, who can blame a girl for wanting to catch a glimpse of those two pieces of candy, especially when they’re togeth—

  “He likes them,” Joel is saying, and I hastily erase fantasy images of him and Jethro… together. Doing anything together. Especially anything involving bananas or similarly shaped objects.

  “Well,” I say brightly, “then right this way, please.”

  I smile, and I’m probably showing too many teeth because his eyes narrow. Oops. Shark smile. Happens when I get excited, and I look like I want to bite someone.

  Not that biting Joel on any hot, muscular part of his body is a bad idea.

  Shit.

  “A book about bananas coming right up.” My voice comes out sort of muffled, as I purse my lips to minimize the damage and hide my teeth—which are slightly crooked, not too bad, but seem too many for my small mouth. “Rethipes okay?”

  “Rethipes?” His brow furrows as he follows me, taking one stride for every two of mine. He’s so tall!

  God, that’s hot.

  “Um, yes. Recipes.” I untuck my lips and swallow hard, because I’ve fantasized about this guy for so long it’s not even funny, and he’s right here, beside me, asking me for a book about—

  “Recipes sound good. He likes smoothies.”

  Smoothies. And bananas. I’m updating my files on Jethro Connors tonight—yeah, real online files, okay? Shush—as I reach for the shelf. “Does he like cooking?”

  “No, but I do.”

  I flick a surprised glance at him and have to physically turn away when my gaze tries to glue itself to the brilliant blue of his eyes, the hardness of his jaw, the strong body stretching his sports jacket in just the right way to make me clench inside.

  Insta-boy-gasm. Dammit.

  And he likes cooking. Jeezus. That’s it, I’m kidnapping him and keeping him as my personal slave.