by K B Cinder
That’s what Juni called it, of course. Virginity was the land of sunshine and rainbows, but she always said, once you had a taste of sex, everything got deliciously dark. Now I knew what she meant.
“Hey, Karine,” he greeted, fussing with the blue cotton blend hiding the hands that had held me through most of the night.
“Hey,” I echoed, putting my weight to one hip as he strolled toward me, looking like a fitness model with his abs and bulging biceps.
“What brings you by on a Saturday?” He raised a brow as he came to a stop a few feet away, leaning his arm on the wall above and stretching his glorious frame.
“I was grabbing Mama lemon bars next-door.” I didn’t need to buy them since they weren’t on my to-do list, but it was a perfect excuse to drop in and see him. It also would make Mama happy, so it was a win-win, really.
“Ah.” He nodded his head as he studied the room, his eyes scanning the ceiling, top shelves, and floor — anywhere but me.
Maybe he was nervous, too. Good. I didn’t feel half as silly then if big bad Sage was jittery.
“Your hair is pretty today,” he said softly when his eyes finally met mine.
I smiled. I’d left it in its natural glory after a shower, the long black curls free and flowing rather than tamed in its everyday ponytail.
“Thank you. You’re handsome as always.”
He swallowed, his throat bobbing as his eyes narrowed. “Karine, about last night…”
I smiled wider.
Here it came.
Finally.
After all this time.
“I think we should stick to being friends.”
The butterflies in my belly exploded, their carcasses rocketing into my chest in a tight band that didn’t dissipate even as I pressed a palm at its center.
Memories of our night flashed before me in a cruel loop. His lips on mine. The sand beneath us. His stubbled cheeks against my thighs. Him inside of me.
“What? Why?” It came out as more of a croak, but at least I got the questions out that burned my lips like acid.
“It’s not you, Karine. You’re perfect. It’s me.”
1
The perfect day has good food, great company, and amazing sex.
This was not the perfect day.
This was a shit day.
A no-good, miserable, stay-in-bed rocking your comfiest jammies type of day. The kind where you called out of work for a date with the Golden Girls and a pint of fudge-chunk ice cream.
But unfortunately for me, I couldn’t do any of that. I had a flight to catch. To where? Vegas. Why? I had dicks to sell.
No, not severed ones. I wasn’t entrenched in the black market of organ dealing; I was in the x-rated one. As in, I owned, ran, and hustled an adult toy company.
Yes, I was a dildo dealer. A sex toy slinger. A pleasure peddler. Whatever people wanted to call me.
And no, I didn’t hock chick sticks and anal beads at a friend’s house on Friday nights for a cut of someone else’s pie. The pie was all mine.
That quest for riches led to the backseat of my best friend’s car, a four-day weekend in Vegas promising fun and a better tomorrow if all went well at one of the biggest adult industry conventions in the world.
I sat wedged between a mass of suitcases and a swamp ogre, my five-foot frame packed in like a sardine. Thankfully, I didn’t smell like one.
The same couldn’t be said of my seatmate, however, Sage insisting on grabbing an onion bagel at the gas station. As if that weren’t gross enough, he slathered it with salmon cream cheese, solidifying his place as the most inconsiderate person on the planet.
If he were anyone else, I would have kicked him out at a stoplight before we hit the highway, but I was stuck with him and his nasty-ass bagel. He wasn’t some random schlub off the street. He was my best friend, Juni’s, older brother.
He was also a prick, but that was another story.
“Oh my God, this traffic is ridiculous!” Juni raged, banging her fists on the steering wheel at the sea of glowing taillights ahead on I-76. “Where do all these people come from?”
“We live in the most densely populated state, babe,” Dash laughed from the passenger seat.
The rest of us were groggy, miserable sons of bitches from the early morning departure, but not Dash. He started cracking jokes the minute he sat down, heading straight from a 24-hour shift at the fire station to his girlfriend’s car without complaint.
I, on the other hand, was in no laughing mood as I sat inches from my decade-long nemesis and his fish breath, my head threatening to explode at the mere sound of him breathing.
“Well, why do they all need to be on the road right now?” Juni growled, flipping the bird at an Acura that dared to cut off the angry brunette.
“It’s Thursday morning, Juni. People have jobs that start early. Not everyone strolls into work at eight o’clock with a triple-chocolate fuckaccino.” Sage’s breath invaded the car, the swarm of salmon and onions turning my stomach.
“Excuse me, it’s a salted caramel fuckaccino,” Juni corrected, aiming a pink-polished middle finger over her shoulder at him. “And I get to the school earlier than that… sometimes.”
I grinned in my seat, seizing the opportunity to strike despite my headache. “Yeah, when Dash spends the night, she’s too tired from the trip to Poundtown to wake up with her alarm.”
I was also exhausted after said nights, the kindergarten teacher a touch too enthusiastic in her bedroom across the hall of the tiny bungalow we shared.
“You know, for your lack of size, you’re a huge pain in the ass,” Sage rumbled.
“I guess we’re both walking contradictions,” I said with a shrug before taking a sip of coffee.
Sage raised a heavy brow as he studied me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I savored another casual sip, letting the French vanilla flavor bomb roll across my tongue while he waited for an answer. “I’m little but a huge pain in the ass. You’re huge but a little man.”
Juni cackled, throwing on her turn signal to snake into the left lane and promptly passing the asshole that cut her off. “You guys need to get along back there. There’s a long flight ahead of you.”
I met her green eyes in the mirror and brandished a fist. The only seats left on her stupid save-more site were a pair in business. I took one for the team in agreeing to sit next to her jerkoff of a brother, and I’d regretted it ever since.
While Sage was tolerable when we were kids growing up on Holly Hearth Court, he’d morphed into an insufferable douche of an adult. Years of staring at yourself in gym mirrors could do a number on your personality — or lack thereof. Owning a gym was likely the final nail in his douchebag coffin.
“Thanks for that, by the way,” Sage griped. “Let’s hope they have the bar cart stacked. I’ll need alcohol to survive almost six hours next to this bridge troll.”
“You could always jump out if it’s too much to handle,” I suggested with a sweet smile. “Or stay at home. There are enough sleazebags looking to score in Vegas as is.”
The women of Sin City would appreciate having one less asshole roaming around, even if he was a strapping slice of sex like Sage. He, like the oleander, was beautiful but deadly, luring women in with his handsome mug and cut body only to snuff out feelings with a thank you, next when he was done with them.
Sage didn’t hesitate, firing back his own insult with a side of fish breath. “If that’s the case, you might want to stay home, too.”
I rolled my eyes and stared at the long line of cars standing between me, fresh air, and freedom. If the highway could part like the Red Sea, that would be great. “Choke on a dick, Sage.”
He chuckled as he ran a hand along his jaw, the slow scrape of stubble that usually drove me wild pissing me off because it was attached to him. “I’ll try, but I can’t promise to do it as spectacularly as you do.”
My cheeks burned, and I quickly took another sip of coffee to kee
p myself out of trouble.
“My God! Was that a compliment?” Juni laughed. “You two are really making strides!”
“Baby steps,” I warned as I nestled against the polyester of the closest bag. “Don’t get too carried away.”
We reached the airport park-and-ride lot a half-hour late courtesy of Philly traffic, but in some crazy stroke of luck, we arrived just as a shuttle bus did, so all we had to do was scamper onboard.
That frantic rush of suitcases was the easy part as we rushed to the bus.
Why?
Seriously? Have you ever been on an airport shuttle bus? Your life flashes before your eyes a minimum of three times.
The driver gave garbled orders I could barely understand thanks to the breakfast sandwich wedged in his cheek. At least a few awkward laughs signaled that whatever he was saying was happy and upbeat.
Everything moved in a frenzy as other waiting travelers boarded and quickly stuffed their luggage into cubbies. I, as usual, fell into the rear, choosing to step out of the way rather than be trampled by the mob.
I couldn’t see anything beyond the mass of winter coats anyway, so I kept my distance to avoid an accidental elbow as we moved along, my shoes safe from the wrath of Sage, who was somewhere up ahead.
When things cleared, I spied Juni and Dash in the back with a free space beside them, so I hurried down the narrow aisle to join them.
Unfortunately, the driver had other plans, speeding off before I was halfway there and sending me hurtling in the air.
I would have landed face-first on the crumb-crusted rubber floor if it weren’t for hands on my hips. The meaty mitts caught me before disaster struck, pulling me into a vinyl seat with a thump.
I turned to see Sage grinning. “Easy there, klutz,” he snickered as he wiped his hands on his pants as if touching me had coated them in something vile.
I smoothed my hair with my free hand, my coffee saved by the death grip of the other. “Thanks, Fish Breath.”
He laughed, the roaring boom the epitome of Sage. Everything about the man was big and loud. It made escaping him impossible.
Kinda like the bus ride.
Every bump in the road sent me rocking against him, forcing me to silently curse the state of Pennsylvania with each pothole we nailed on I-95. It wasn’t entirely their fault, though, as the driver turned the wheel wildly even on straightaways like an action-movie star.
All I could do was dig my feet into the floor to brace myself, especially when we sped onto the loop to the airport, which sent me lurching into the brick wall of a man beside me with his hard muscles and sexy cologne.
Hey — he might’ve been a total asshat, but the man smelled divine. Minus the temporary fish and onion, of course.
But just as soon as the torture began, it was over, and we poured out in front of the terminal, our bags pulled down as quickly as they had been stuffed onboard. I said a quick goodbye to my beloved coffee, tossing it in its final resting place of a dented trashcan before heading inside to start the long hike to our gate.
Luckily all of our luggage was under the weight limit, including my bag that would make any x-ray operator blush. I stopped stowing display samples in my carry-on after I was selected for a random search in Miami. Having a double-ended dildo waved around by a sweet old grandma was an experience I didn’t want to repeat.
With the bags checked, we ran to security, literally, squeezing in surprise cardio that my outfit of comfy gym sweats said I enjoyed.
Plot twist: I didn’t.
I struggled to keep up, each of my taller companions’ strides equalling at least two of mine. When we finally reached the line at the metal detectors, I doubled over a queue pole with my chest heaving like I’d completed the Philadelphia Marathon.
Ahead, Dash and Juni gushed about the upcoming weekend, the lovebirds planning to squeeze in all the sites while I juggled fleshlights and Ben Wa balls.
Little did my best friend know, but it would be the best weekend of her life to date and not just for the fun group getaway to Sin City.
The pair had been an item for a year, and Dash, ever the upstanding gentleman, was ready to put a ring on it. Sage and I would have front-row seats to it all as their best friends.
But right now, I had a front-row seat to Sage’s ass, my short legs putting me at the end of the line.
He was donning gray sweatpants. Yes, those sweatpants. The kind that highlighted any package so you couldn’t miss it. Every now and then, he would turn, giving me a view of side-bulge for the ages.
After torturing myself with glances one too many times as we waited, I looked out at the city through the wall of windows, the jagged outline of skyscrapers visible despite the thick morning clouds. One day, I’d be perched in one of them, conquering the world.
This trip was the key to that life. I could feel it in my bones. Last year’s conference was only a taste. This one would put Kinx on top.
2
Son of a bitch.
According to the headrest map, we were flying over Indiana. Or Illinois. Or some other midwestern squiggle of a state. It was impossible to tell on the tiny screen in front of me.
Wherever we were, it was too early into the flight to be so angry. Angry enough to be plotting a hundred and one ways to make Sage miserable or, at the very least, unconscious.
He'd been eyeing a blonde with massive honkers since we boarded, laughing and exchanging hand motions as if I weren't between them.
That's right: the sky-high douche stole the window seat and refused to move, only to show Basketball Boobs how hard he wanted to bone in front of my face with his fingers. Or above my head when I smacked them away.
And how, too, apparently.
Currently, he was in the mood for doggy style, or at least that’s what his hands showed, the bear-like paws violently thrusting into one another with his log of a thumb serving as the stand-in for his dick.
He was selling himself short, honestly. Sage might have been a huge dick, but that could be because he was packing one. That big dick energy had manifested in his brain like a toolbag tumor.
I shook away the thought as he switched up his x-rated sign language, now bouncing one on top of the other as if it were riding it.
Gross.
I smacked his hands again. “Alright, can you knock it the hell off? I’ve asked you enough.”
He chuckled, rolling the green eyes I wanted to poke. Green eyes that lusted for Basketball Boobs across the aisle. “Go to sleep, Killjoy.”
At one point, he had looked at me like that. But that was many moons ago. Back when I was a stupid girl with a stupid crush. Exactly the kind of girl douches like him preyed on.
“Piss off, Sage.”
A passing flight attendant froze to look at us in concern, her severe bun preventing her forehead from moving with her frown. “Is everything okay?”
My eyes met hers, and I smiled. “Yes, may I have a cranberry and vodka, please?”
Fuck it. They had booze, and I was going for it, even at 7:00 AM. We were taking a ride-share to the hotel anyway. I could get tipsy, and it wouldn’t matter. It might make Sage more bearable too.
“Absolutely,” she cooed, happy to lube me up with booze to prevent an emergency landing in the middle of East Bumblefuck, USA.
Her attention turned to Sage with an extra chipper smile, women always gravitating to the big-headed idiot. “Anything for you, sir?”
“He can’t drink alcohol,” I cut in, beating him to the punch. “He gets explosive diarrhea.”
I made sure I said it loud enough for Basketball Boobs to hear, and sure enough, her nose wrinkled in disgust instantly.
“The last time we flew, they served him a beer, and he painted the bathroom like a Jackson Pollock. They had to decontaminate before we could deplane. We missed our connecting flight, and it was a disaster for all involved.”
“Karine, what the fuck?” Sage growled, but I held a finger to his lips, promptly shutting him up for the f
irst time since we picked him up at his place at three in the morning.
“Don’t argue. I know your digestive system best, dear.” I turned to the flight attendant with my best smile. “He’ll have an orange juice. It’s one of the few things his tummy can handle without making chocolate rain.”
At that, Basketball Boobs shoved earbuds in and completely turned away from Sage and his x-rated antics.
“Very well, ma’am,” the flight attendant breathed, her eyes wide as she studied Sage carefully before scurrying off.
Sage sighed, slamming his seat tray down. “You’re a terrible person.”
“Not as terrible as you,” I shot back, leaning into the buttery leather with a smile.
He scowled. “You don’t always have to be a dick, you know? You can be a nice person for once in your miserable life.”
I kept a smile plastered on my face, watching the flight attendant prep our drinks beyond the mesh curtain. “I am a very nice person.”
I was. Just not to low-life assholes who thought the world of themselves.
He huffed, flexing his wide shoulders in what little room he had without touching me. “Not to me.”
“You’re right,” I admitted, my eyes flicking to his face, the handsome mug not dimming my irritation one bit. “You don’t deserve it.”
He groaned and lifted his fingers to his temples in frustration. “You’re ridiculous.”
I accepted my drink from the flight attendant and smiled wide as she handed Sage his juice, its glass hilariously tiny in his oven mitt of a hand. He accepted it but not before shooting me the mother of all dirty looks.
Only four hours until landing.
Sage fell asleep after chugging his juice, stirring just once when we hit a patch of turbulence over the Rockies.
Admittedly, I had some mid-air entertainment with it at his expense, grabbing his hand dramatically as he woke and telling him that I didn’t want to die.
