Troublemaker

by Kayley Loring

  “I’ll put in a few calls. See what I can do.”

  As soon as I’m in the car, Ryder’s whining about having to leave his friends so soon.

  “I’m sorry, buddy, but I’m going back to Silver Lake to see Miss Stiles.” I look at him in the rearview mirror to watch his reaction. “It’s too far for me to go there and then come back to get you. So you can come with me.”

  He looks so happy and has instantly forgotten that he was complaining a second ago. I know I’m making the right decision. “Does Miss Stiles know we’re going to go see her?”

  “Not exactly. It’s going to be a surprise.”

  “Are you and Miss Stiles still talking about the holiday show?” he asks, grinning.

  “We’ve gotten to be friends.”

  “I think that’s good!”

  “I do too.”

  “Plus, she likes monkeys! So she’ll be cool with me getting one.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

  “Where are we going?!”

  “To the library.”

  Okay, so he isn’t very happy at the moment.

  But he will be.

  And so will I.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  EMILIA: Dude. I can’t believe you brought Ryder!

  ALEX: If we’re at the point in our relationship where you can call me Dude, then we’re at the point in our relationship where Ryder can know that we’re hanging out. You’re adorable when you’re angry.

  EMILIA: I’m not angry. And I’m not adorable. What did you tell him?

  ALEX: That you and your dog are volunteering at the library. That we’re friends. That we’re all going to hang out today. Do you always wear short dresses with over the knee socks when you volunteer at the library, Miss Stiles?

  EMILIA: It’s not that short. And only when I’m planning to let someone have easy access to what’s under the dress later.

  EMILIA: OMG why do you always do this to me when there are kids around?!

  ALEX: I’m just texting you, Miss Stiles. You’re the one dressing for easy access. And the kids are a lot more interested in their books and your dog than what you’re up to right now. Don’t ask me why. Those boots are HOT.

  EMILIA: God. Why do you look even more handsome than the last time I saw you? That’s just mean.

  EMILIA: Don’t come any closer!!! If I smell you, I will mount you. The library staff frowns upon public humping. Bunch of prudes.

  ALEX: Well, my staff is ready to go. Wanna meet me in the parking lot?

  EMILIA: Yes. But no. Go find a book to read. Look how cute Ryder is over there.

  ALEX: Are you going to let him read to Atticus?

  EMILIA: Well there are a few kids ahead of him, and he doesn’t have any issues with reading out loud, but if you want to wait around longer, then sure.

  ALEX: He doesn’t need to read to a dog. I’ll be looking at photography books.

  EMILIA: I am happy to see you. In case I didn’t mention it.

  ALEX: I really missed you.

  EMILIA: I missed you too. Now turn around and walk away slowly so I can stare at your butt in those jeans.

  ALEX: Am I walking slow enough?

  EMILIA:

  33

  Emilia

  “Oh my God. Oh my God. This is the best gelato I’ve ever had.”

  “I know, right?! Can Atticus have some of mine?” Ryder holds his cone up over my dog’s head.

  “Dogs can’t eat chocolate, buddy,” Alex answers for me in his sexy Dad Voice.

  I mean. I find his dad voice sexy. He wasn’t putting on a sexy dad voice for his son.

  “How’s your toasted almond fig?” he asks me. In his sexy regular voice.

  “Robust yet subtle and layered and delicious. How’s your sweet butter cream?”

  “Smooth and creamy,” he says, swirling his tongue as he savors the smooth creaminess and looking over at me.

  I shudder.

  Ryder shudders too, because he’s grossed-out. “You guys both pick the worst flavors.”

  Winter is probably my second favorite season in Los Angeles. Strolling around Silver Lake with Alex and Ryder and my dog is so pleasant that it didn’t occur to me until just now that someone from school might see us.

  “Can we take Atticus to the dog park?!” Ryder asks.

  “Um. He’s probably had enough excitement for today, actually.”

  “Why don’t we go back to our place? We can watch a movie. You can hang out with Atticus there.”

  We go back to Alex’s car. Atticus and I had walked to the library, as it’s only about five blocks from my house. We had all stopped by my house, before getting gelato, so I could grab some dog food and a chew toy. I would have dropped Atticus off, but I could tell that Ryder wanted to spend more time with him. They’re very cute together.

  “Do you think Atticus likes going to the library?” Ryder asks from the back seat. He has chocolate gelato all around his mouth, and hopefully my dog won’t drop dead because he’s licking his entire face.

  “I think he loves kids. And he likes quiet spaces. So do I. I used to go to the library whenever I could when I was younger.”

  I look back and see Ryder wrinkling his nose. “Why?”

  “Because everyone’s welcome at a library. As long as they’re quiet. And everything’s always organized in the same way, at almost every library in the world. For now, anyway. It’s starting to change a bit. And because there are so many books. Being around books and people who like to read books is really comforting, I find.”

  “I guess,” he says, contemplating this. “They smell funny. But not like farts or anything.”

  I can’t stop staring at Alex’s hands. One’s holding the cone that he’s biting into and one’s on the steering wheel, as he drives us to his house. He’s a good, safe driver. “I looooove the way books smell.” And I want those hands all over me. “That smell comes from the paper and ink and glue. There are actually quite a few chemicals involved in the making of a book, and different kinds of books smell different because black and white paperbacks use different chemicals than photography books, for instance.” I want that man to drive into me. Good and fast and hard. “And when the book gets older, everything breaks down and wafts into the air even more. I find the smell of books really comforting. I think that whenever I’m at a library, I just feel like I did when I was a happy kid. Everything’s in its proper place. You always know where to find what you’re looking for, but you’re always going to find something new and wonderful in a book.”

  I wonder if Ryder can tell that I’m rambling because I’m horny.

  Because his dad certainly can.

  Alex is grinning. He’s keeping his eyes on the road but grinning because of me. He licks his fingers when he’s finished consuming his sugar cone, and I’m wondering if maybe Ryder needs a nap or something. Something to keep him preoccupied while his sexy daddy does something about this intense dull ache between my legs. I lift up the hem of my sweater dress a little to scratch an imaginary itch on my thigh. Alex catches this out of the corner of his eye, blinking.

  I give him a look—keep your eyes on the road, Sexy Daddy.

  “Yeah, I like it too,” Ryder finally says. “Sometimes I like fart smells too though. Is that weird?”

  Alex and I laugh. Nothing like a little fart talk to keep the libido in check.

  Alex reaches over to squeeze my bare leg, just above the knee.

  Or maybe not.

  I finish my cone and make sure Alex sees me licking the remnants of gelato from my fingers when we’re at a stop sign.

  I had always tried so hard to be as unsexy as possible when there were kids around, but it seems like it’s impossible for me to feel unsexy when I’m around Alex.

  “You can go now, Dad,” Ryder says. “There aren’t any cars coming.”

  “Right,” Alex says, tearing his eyes away from my mouth and my fingers. “Just being extra ca
reful.”

  When we get to Alex’s house, we all go out to the backyard so Ryder can play with Atticus. The teepee tent is still up, and I’m reminded of that first night here with Alex. It was only a week ago, but so much has happened since then. So many orgasms. So many dirty words. So much opening of my heart.

  “Hey, why don’t we go inside and feed Atticus now,” Alex says to Ryder. “Then we can watch a movie.”

  “What movie?” Ryder asks hesitantly.

  “Whatever you want. You get to choose.”

  “Yessss! Home Alone one and two! It has to be both! Can you stay for both, Miss Stiles?”

  I want to tell him to call me Emilia when we’re not in school, but there’s too good of a chance that he’ll still call me that in class. And that wouldn’t be good. “Yes. Atticus and I have nothing else planned for the day. We love those movies.”

  After feeding Atticus in the kitchen, we get settled in the screening room. Ryder and my dog sit on the sofa in the front row, on a slightly lower level, and Alex stretches his arms out along the back of the sofa behind me. On the sofa that I blew him on a week ago. I slap my forehead and shake my head, thinking about it. I was such a nervous dork back then.

  I feel Alex’s fingers on my arm, just below my shoulder, and shiver. I don’t know if we’re supposed to wait until it’s Ryder’s bedtime, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep my legs crossed this tight. I’m probably giving myself varicose veins.

  By the time we get to the part where Kevin’s parents are on the plane, Alex tells Ryder we’re going to the kitchen to get some snacks. Ryder asks for cheese and crackers but doesn’t look away from the screen. His dad takes my hand and leads me out of the room, shutting the door behind us. I have never been so excited about cheese and crackers.

  He pulls me down the hall a few feet and then pushes me up against the wall, cupping the back of my head with his hands and kissing me.

  He whispers into my neck. “We have about ten minutes. Until the scene where Kevin’s asleep and surrounded by half-eaten junk food. That’s when Ryder always wants something to eat.”

  “What? But that’s when the thieves show up and things get really exciting.”

  He reaches down and slides his hand up my inner thigh, under my sweater dress. “Actually, things are getting exciting right now.”

  34

  Alex

  “Are you sure?” Emilia whispers as I pull her down the hall to the kitchen. “We should wait until he’s asleep. What if he comes looking for us?”

  “I told you. I know my kid. We have ten minutes.” I don’t even want to waste thirty seconds running up the stairs. The clicking of her high-heeled boots on the tiled kitchen floor are driving me insane. Those fucking boots. Those long socks. That short fucking sweater dress. I deserve a medal for waiting until we got home to do this. I open the door to the laundry room. “Get in there, Emilia,” I growl.

  “This is reckless, Alex,” she mutters, frowning at me. But she steps inside.

  And I shut the door.

  “Is this the most reckless thing you’ve ever done, Miss Stiles? Sex in a laundry room when there’s a child somewhere in the house?” I grab on to her hips and pull her ass against me so she can feel how hard I am through my jeans.

  She holds on to the edge of the washing machine in front of her, but she keeps pressing back into me.

  That’s what I thought.

  I hike the bottom of that dress up to her waist and slide my hand up between her legs.

  Christ, what are these—silk panties? Fucking hell. Soaking wet silk panties.

  “If you want to wait, we can wait,” I grumble into the side of her neck. My hands roam up to squeeze her tits through the sweater. “Is that what you want?”

  She reaches back to grab my hair. “No, I want you to fuck me hard and fast,” she hisses.

  Jesus.

  “It’s all I’ve been thinking about for days.”

  “Me too.” I yank those panties down. White silk panties, for fuck sake. Trying to kill me. I spin her around to face me and then lift her up to sit her ass down on top of the washing machine. “You’re gonna get it hard and fast.”

  “But you better be quiet,” she warns.

  “Yeah. You too.” I spread her knees apart and dip down to lick between her legs, and the little yelp it elicits is so cute and hot.

  But those black boots.

  I feel the heels of those boots digging into my back, and I like it.

  “Alex,” she moans. Another sexy warning.

  “Shhhh.” So warm, so wet. Her hands are in my hair, caressing and tugging. Every single thing she does makes me crazy.

  She whimpers and shivers.

  “Shhhh.”

  “Alex.” Her thighs tighten around my neck. “Hurry hurry.”

  I bite the flesh of her inner thigh, reluctantly stand up, undo my belt, and let everything drop to the floor around my ankles. Emilia’s eyelids are heavier than ever, and she does something that I do not expect her to do, and it pretty much guarantees that I will be obsessed with this woman for the rest of my life… She slides down from the top of the washing machine, her eyes fixed on mine, and then turns away from me and bends over it. She reaches out to get a good grip on the cool metal surface, and I press myself inside her. One hand on her shoulder, one on her hip, I drive into her. She’s so slippery and tight and the skin of her soft ass is so smooth and I may be losing my mind.

  “God, you feel so good.”

  She gasps, covers her mouth with both hands, and clenches and releases around me. Milking me. Jesus. Fuck it’s good.

  “Is this what you wanted, Miss Stiles? Is this how you want it?”

  She nods, and I hear muffled humming and squealing.

  “You like my bare cock inside you?”

  “Yes,” she murmurs. “Oh my God, yes.”

  I’m an animal.

  “Yes, harder,” she whispers. “Faster. Alex. Don’t hold back.”

  Oh. Baby.

  I don’t hold back.

  And she likes it. I can feel everything, and she’s trying to stay quiet, but her body is screaming and she likes it.

  She leans forward even farther so I can go even deeper inside her.

  I’m breathing so hard, but I let out some kind of sigh that I’ve never heard before. Ecstatic and disbelieving and grateful and sad. So many things, this woman.

  I lower my head to rest my forehead against her back, because fuck it’s good and I want to be closer to her. It feels good and it feels right and it’s what I want and I will give in to this. “You’re mine, Emilia.”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t want to hide it.”

  “Alex…”

  I can’t tell if that was a confirmation or a warning, and I have no idea how long I’ve been thrusting in and out of her, but I’ve waited forever and I need to come. I need to come inside her because she’s mine. I take a handful of that silky blonde hair and tug at her scalp. She cries out. It’s not loud, but it’s not quiet, and it’s so hot.

  She contracts, so tight around me and I put my hand over her mouth just as she screams into it. Those sweet, plump lips, they kiss my palm and then nip at it. I’m pressing myself against her, tensed up, and my knees start to buckle. I groan into the sweater on her back. I’m unhinged. The greatest rush, the deepest breath. I am completely vulnerable, disappearing into nothingness, but I channel everything into her.

  “You,” I whisper. Because it’s all I can say, all I can think. “You.”

  I lie against her back, arms around her, as we catch our breaths. She lifts my hand to her face again and kisses it. Ten, twenty times.

  I would stay in bed with her like this, all day, if I could. But there are snacks to be fetched. There is a child in the house who is wide awake.

  And I just fucked his teacher in the laundry room.

  And I’m dripping down her leg. Onto her boots.

  I carefully pull out of her and grab a towe
l from the dryer. Fortunately, I never got around to putting them away yesterday. I wet the towel in the sink and clean her off. She covers her face, stands up, still facing away from me. I can tell she’s embarrassed. That she’s standing before me here. In a sunlit room, bare assed, and I’m wiping her leg and between her pale, shapely legs. “You’re beautiful,” I remind her.

  I could take care of you like this, in every way, if you’d let me.

  I pick up her white silk panties and hand them to her and then clean myself off and pull up my jeans.

  She steps aside to straighten herself up so I can drop the towel into the washing machine.

  An efficient and effective quick fuck.

  But also, so much more.

  I cup her face in my hands. “In case you’re wondering…” I kiss her forehead. “I’m falling in love with you. Hard and fast, and I refuse to stop.”

  She catches her breath. Her crystal blue eyes fill with tears, but I catch them before they fall down her cheeks. I kiss that trembling lower lip.

  “Me too,” she says. She places her hands flat over my heart and nods. “You.”

  The rest of the day is a sweet, postcoital, Macauley Culkin and junk food–filled haze. We order pizza. We have a long, impassioned discussion of our favorite holiday and family movies. Ryder insists that we have a movie marathon tomorrow and we each get to choose two favorites. Emilia agrees to “come back in the morning,” but I want her to spend the night, and it’s wrong that she won’t, all wrong. We take Atticus for a walk in my neighborhood. I don’t hold Emilia’s hand, and it is wrong, all wrong.