Sugar Rush

by Belle Aurora

  Damn. Did he really just say that? I blink back tears. I’m in bad shape over here. I sniffle. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

  He kisses my cheek and his lips linger. I feel his smile there. “Don’t cry, baby. You’re killin’ me here. I want you happy. Always happy.”

  Even though I close my eyes tight, a tear escapes as I promise a choked, “I am happy. The happiest.” I open my eyes to look into his. “I can’t remember when I’ve ever been this happy before.” His eyes soften on me, his thumbs still at my cheeks, wiping away stray tears. I lean forward, pressing a lingering kiss to his mouth. “So, does this mean you want me around on a semi-permanent basis?”

  A small smile plays at his mouth. “Helena, baby, didn’t you hear me last night?” His eyes bore into mine. “I am never letting you go. Not ever.”

  My breath leaves me in a whoosh. I thought that was just sex talk! Unable to catch my breath, I whisper a shaky, “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it. I—” I swallow hard and tell him honestly, “My heart couldn’t take it.”

  His smile deepens and he presses into me, forcing me back a step. My calves hit his desk, making me sit. Eyes wide, I ask softly, “What are you doing?”

  As if it’s an everyday occurrence, he lifts his shirt to unbuckle his belt. “Making love to you on my desk.” He unbuttons his jeans. “Whenever I’m in here, I’m thinkin’ of you.” He lowers the zipper. “I don’t want some made-up fantasy.” He lifts the hem of my dress up over my knees. “I want the real thing…” I lift my butt, helping him to lift my dress higher still, to my waist. He hooks his forefingers through the sides of my panties and lowers them down past my ankles, “…’cause nothing compares to you.”

  Holy hotness.

  His hands slide up my thighs, reaching under me to cup my ass. He lifts me and places me closer to the very edge of his desk. It feels like I’ll fall, but I don’t stress about it. I know if I slip, Max will catch me. Lifting his hand to my mouth, he presses two fingers at my lips. It takes me a moment to understand, but when I do, I part my lips and he slides his fingers into my mouth. I suck at them, enjoying the pained look on his face. His erection twitches through the gap in his jeans and it fuels me. Reaching up, I grip his hand and suck his fingers harder, wetting them well. I release them with a pop and he smirks, lowering his hand between my legs.

  He slides in a finger, testing how aroused I am. When he quickly realizes I’m already there, he slips in the second finger, gently fucking me with them. My face flushes as I gasp. This has never felt great for me, but when Max does it, it’s amazing. My core clenches, milking his fingers, and he looks down between my thighs in wonder. “Never wanted anyone like I want you.”

  Tilting my head back in pleasure, I sigh softly and pledge myself to him. “You have me.” He wastes no time. He gently pulls his fingers out, places the head of himself at my entrance, and slides in all the way. My eyes shoot open as electricity flows through me. Every nerve in my body has been awakened.

  He lifts my arm, wrapping it around his neck as he pulls me close, our lips a hair’s breadth away from one another. But he doesn’t kiss me. Instead, he thrusts into me, eyes open, watching me as though he needs it. We breathe into each other as our bodies rock, working as a team. I clench my internal muscles, and closing his eyes, he hisses.

  My nipples become taut. His hand comes up to cup my cheek, and when his eyes open once more, they’re hooded with desire. My legs wrap around his thighs as I feel myself start to lose control. I need him close. Closer than close. I feel the telltale tingles in my bottom, working all the way up my spine. My stomach clenches and my eyes flutter closed as I mutter, “I’m coming.”

  He speeds up his thrusts. “Open your eyes, cupcake. See me.”

  Panting, I whisper a hoarse, “You’re all I see.”

  It hits me like a shockwave. My pussy clenches around his thick cock. A moment after my release, he stills, pushing in to the hilt. He groans through gritted teeth and I feel every warm spurt of his climax inside of me. It feels like heaven. Dropping his forehead to mine, he presses a small kiss to the tip of my nose before smiling like the cat who got the cream. “Well, work will never be the same.”

  I blink up at him a second before I burst into laughter. Max lowers his nose to my neck, his silent laughter coming out in short, hot puffs against my skin, and all I can think about is how great it feels to hold this man.

  After we clean up, we walk back out to the bar hand-in-hand, wrapped up in each other. Nothing could burst my bubble of happiness. The second we walk out the door, we’re almost bowled over by a couple of horny patrons sucking face and groping each other like there’s no tomorrow.

  It takes me a moment to realize that the horny patrons are actually Willa and Whit.

  ***

  Helena

  Waking up next to Max should be illegal. No man should look that good in the mornings. Even though we got to the house after three, we managed to somehow go to bed well past four. I don’t know how that happened.

  Okay. I lie. It might’ve had something to do with the fact Max wanted me in the middle of his bed, on all fours, and he wanted to ride me slow. Who would I have been to decline such an offer?

  He set his alarm for seven—torture, I know—and when his alarm trilled, he woke with ease, showered, and kissed me goodbye. He whispered, “I gotta go, babe. I left the car keys on the bedside cabinet. Come home when you girls are ready to go.”

  Blindly reaching out for him, he allowed me to snuggle him a minute more before he placed a kiss to my forehead and left. I set my alarm the night before for nine, but it felt like I had just snuggled Max before my alarm was violently vibrating on the bedside cabinet.

  I roughly remembered the front door opening and Ceecee calling out, “Helena? Are you up?”

  That about did it. My feet found the floor and I stumbled out into the hall, half asleep, with my hair everywhere. As soon as I saw Ceecee, her smile was as bright as a pure ray of sunshine. “You didn’t forget about the park, did you?”

  My voice rough from sleep, I uttered, “No way, Jose. Let me grab a shower and we’re outta here.” Before I walked over to the bathroom, I kissed the top of her head, loving the sweet smell of her.

  In no time at all, I showered and dressed in jeans ripped in all the right places, flip-flops, a slouchy sweater, and my aviator sunglasses before piling my hair onto the top of my head and tying it in a messy bun. Ceecee was waiting for me in the hall dressed in faded jeans and a sweet floral top, her hair brushed and let down to fall at her shoulders. I smiled to myself. My little girl indeed has a crush. No one dresses up to go to the park. She made a good choice. Sam won’t know what hit him.

  We drove to the park, chatting about nothing in particular. When we arrived, Ceecee let herself out and I asked, “When is Sam meeting you?”

  Ceecee’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Sam? I’m not meeting Sam.”

  I felt my own brows furrow to match hers. “Then who are you meeting?”

  Ceecee opened her mouth to respond, but something in the distance caught her attention. She smiled then, bigger than I’d ever seen her smile, and wheeled herself off in the direction behind me. I turned, and with the sun in my eyes, I removed my sunglasses, holding a hand up to shield myself from the distracting rays. Ceecee approached a woman sitting at a bench. A slender, pretty woman with shining auburn hair, falling in waves down her back, and with one look at this woman, my entire world shattered.

  There was no mistaking it.

  The woman was Ceecee’s mother.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Ceecee

  I know it’s her the second I see her. The photos in the box were old, but she hasn’t changed that much. She looks like me. Well, I guess I look like her. The only difference is that I have my dad’s eyes. My heart pounds as I move closer to her. As soon as she sees me, a sad smile crosses her face and she stands.

  She’s pretty. I mean, really
pretty. Her long reddish-brown hair is wavy and sits just at her waist. I immediately decide to grow my hair to that length. Maybe she’d like that. I’ll have to ask her. What do I call her? Mom? I guess she is my mom, even though I can’t ever remember her being around.

  She eyes my chair and asks hesitantly, “Cecelia?”

  I nod, unable to speak. She waves an arm out to the bench. “Take a seat.” As soon as she says it, she winces. “I’m sorry; I meant—”

  I decide to put her out of her misery and cut in with a quiet, “It’s okay. I know what you meant.” I wheel my chair beside the bench and she sits once again, shifting away from me. She’s probably as nervous as I am.

  She plays with her fingers, looking away from me. “Why did you contact me, Ceecee?”

  My heart sinks at her tone. “Because I wanted to meet my mom.”

  At the word mom, her eyes widen. “Please, call me Madeline.” My cheeks flush. She sounds so stiff, so formal, as if I’m nothing to her. Shaking her head, she asks, “Does you dad know you’re here?”

  I shake my head and force a smile. “No, he doesn’t.”

  He just doesn’t get it. Every time I ask about my mother, he stops the conversation before it even begins. Then I found the box. It was like a sign. I don’t need his permission. After all, this woman is my mother. She looks so classy dressed like she is, in black pants and a white shirt, the type you see in expensive magazines. Maybe she’ll take me clothes shopping sometime. I’d really like that.

  Madeline clears her throat. “Ceecee, the only reason I agreed to meet you today was to have a serious chat with you.”

  My gut clenches. What kind of chat?

  Before I can ask, she states, “I have a husband and two young sons.” Her eyes meet mine and they’re cold as ice. “I’m sorry. I know this might sound harsh, but I don’t have room for you in my life.”

  ***

  Helena

  I stand there, in the place she left me, waiting for the moment she needs me. And I spot it before it comes. The woman doesn’t even look at Ceecee; she talks to her hands, the arrogant bitch. My feet already moving towards them, protectiveness surges through me, burning through me like fire in my veins. Ceecee’s face crumbles and she cries hard.

  My pace quickens, and soon, I’m running across the park as fast as I can to protect my grasshopper from this hard looking woman. As soon as I approach them, I kneel down and wrap my arms around Ceecee. The woman stands, looking down at Ceecee in shock. I wrap my girl up tight, and bark, “What did you say to her?”

  Ceecee looks up at her mom and sobs, “Why don’t you want me? What did I do? Was I a bad baby?” Ceecee pleads, “Tell me what to do and I’ll do it! Please, don’t leave!”

  The woman’s eyes fill with tears, but she doesn’t speak.

  Oh my God. Rage fills me. I stand from my kneeling position, eyes blazing. Placing a hand at Ceecee’s shoulder, listening to the saddest cry I have ever heard in my life, I repeat a severe, “What did you say to her?”

  The woman stutters, “I-I-I-I…shouldn’t have come here.”

  Watching this pitiful excuse for a mother look at her child as though she’s offensive, I whisper, “Then why did you?”

  She steps away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.” Without another word, the woman turns her back and walks away, leaving behind a completely devastated child.

  Kneeling once more, I wrap my arms around Ceecee and hold her tight as she wails, heartbroken, weeping from pure agony. How could she just walk away? Again? I don’t even realize I’m crying until I feel wetness trail down my cheeks. I pull out my phone and text Max.

  Me: Come home. Now.

  I just hope I can get her home in one piece.

  It takes a while to get Ceecee back into the car. She’s quiet. Way too quiet. And I don’t like it. Not that I blame her. The stupid bitch she called Mom really did a number on her. From her brokenhearted rambling, I manage to find out the mother has a new family and doesn’t want Ceecee to be part of it. I tried to ask how she found her, but all she said was something about a box. It was hard to make out.

  As soon as we arrive at the house, Max is waiting for us. Looking about as worried as a father should be, he rushes over to the van. “What happened?” Before I can answer, he spots Ceecee’s blotchy, tear-stained face, and without waiting, he grips the sides of the wheelchair and pulls her down to the ground. Kneeling, he brushes a hand over her hair. “Baby girl, what happened?” When she doesn’t answer, he looks back up at me, eyes wild. “What the fuck happened?”

  That’s when Ceecee croaks, “She doesn’t want me,” tears trailing her cheeks.

  My heart silently breaks. Max looks confused. “Who? Who doesn’t want you, baby?”

  Her sad eyes peer into his. “Mom.”

  Max stands then, as rigid as a pole. Gritting his teeth, he turns to me and hisses, “What the fuck did you do?” My mouth gapes. Me? “Ceecee, go on into your room for a while, baby. I need to talk to Helena.”

  I look down at the pretty little angel, and face void, she does as her father says. As soon as she walks through the front door, he sucker-punches me with words. “Maddy was at the park? That’s who you met?” I nod and open my mouth to speak, but I’m cut off. He booms, “You had no right! You should’ve come to me. I would have never let that bitch near her. How could you go behind my back?”

  Shock turns my body rigid. I had expected a thank you for protecting his daughter, not a third degree. “Max, I thought—”

  He paces. “No! You didn’t think!” He jabs at his temple, eyes cold and uncharacteristically narrowed. “You didn’t fucking think, Lena.”

  I step away, not from fear, but from hurt. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  He forces a venomous laugh. “Oh, you didn’t?” He points towards the house and shouts, “How the fuck do I fix this, Lena? What do I say to her now? ‘Sorry, baby, but surprise! Your mom, the woman who left you before you were a year old, is responsible for your injuries, and she doesn’t give a flying fuck about you’?”

  I have never heard Max talk this way. I have never seen Max angry, or talk hatefully, or look at anyone the way he’s looking at me right now. I want to walk away from this, just turn and walk out, but I can’t. If I could only explain it to him, surely he’d understand. “This is all a big mistake.”

  His nostrils flare. “No. The only mistake I made was dating you.”

  I stumble back, hit by the force of his statement. I blink up at him, stunned at the hurt he’s trying to inflict. Trying and succeeding. His eyes shut tight, his knuckles turning white. His breathing heavies. I know panic when I see it, and Max is overcome right now. I try to reason with him and utter gently, “You don’t understand, Max. It wasn’t like you think.”

  All of a sudden, his eyes shoot open, he leans into my face, and he roars, “You are not her mother! You aren’t a parent; you don’t know what it’s like. I will do whatever I need to do to protect her, because I love her. You don’t get to make calls about my daughter. You are not her mother!”

  A thick silence cocoons us. We stand in it a long while, trapped before I find my voice. “Thank God for that.”

  The look of fury on his face tells me he misunderstands me. I immediately continue. I need to explain, but my voice sounds weak, even to me, “There is no way I could ever be her mom.” I take a step back as my eyes begin to burn. “If I were her mom,” I breathe in a ragged breath, “nothing could keep me from her.”

  Max’s face morphs from angry to empty. I take another step back. My voice, quieter than before, says, “If she were mine, I would spend my life protecting her.” Another step back. “I would do anything to see her sweet, crooked smile.” One more step. Tears blur my vision; my voice cracks. “I would die before I hurt her. I would die for her.”

  I turn to walk away, but stop mid-step. Not looking back, I utter, “If she were mine, I’d spend my life letting her know how grateful I was for her. She would never b
e forgotten,” I pause a moment, “but you’re right. She’s not mine. I’m not her mother,” my feet carry me away slowly, “but sometimes, I wish I were.”

  He doesn’t stop me when I leave. He doesn’t chase me down, or apologize. As I reach the street, I tuck my hands into my pockets and just walk. My heart stutters with the realization that things have changed.

  And not all change is good.

  ***

  Max

  I watch her walk away, and even though I want to stop her and ask her what she meant by what she just said, I can’t. I can’t, because my daughter is inside, and she’s hurting. Deep.

  Maddy.

  She saw Maddy.

  God. Fuck! Jaw tight, I make my way into the house and search for Ceecee. I find her in her room, staring out the window. My chest aches. She looks so small. So lost. I don’t know how to fix this. If Helena had just told me Ceecee wanted to meet her mom, I could’ve explained why that wasn’t going to happen. But no, she went behind my back and organized a meeting with the heartless woman who gave birth to my daughter, and look at what she’s done. All the progress Ceecee’s made in the past month…gone.

  I knock on the doorframe and move to sit on her bed. She doesn’t acknowledge me. Resting my elbows on my knees, I utter gently, “So, you met your mom.” She doesn’t move. “I bet it makes sense now why I don’t like talking about her, huh?”

  Her bottom lip quivers and she takes in a shaky breath. She doesn’t respond, but nods to the window. I can’t help but ask, “Why didn’t you just ask me, if you wanted to meet her?”

  Ceecee turns to me; her tear-stained face makes my gut burn. “Would you have let me meet her?”

  I shake my head. “Hell no.”

  “That’s why,” she explains weakly.