by Ella James
I bring it to my nose. Inhale its sweety-sour scent.
“Can you smell a hint of grape?”
I set the vase down on the bed. “I’m confused...”
He flicks his fingers. “Come here, Cleo.”
I don’t know what I’m expecting, but my hands are shaking. Kellan doesn’t take the bud from me. He nods down at the brown chair I was in before, and I find I have the urge to do as he asks. “Have a seat,” he orders.
“Not until you tell me what’s going on.” Even as I say that, I’m sitting.
“That strain’s called The Grape Escape. It’ll knock you on your ass. Unlike the swag you sell.”
I frown down at the long bud. Back at Kellan. Unlike the swag you sell...
“Are you saying you...?” I shake my head. “I must be missing something.”
His lips smooth into a thin line, revealing dimples on each side of his glorious mouth. His brows lift as his face takes on a pensive slant. “I’ll throw you a bone, Whatley. Matt’s with me.”
I blink a bunch of times. I can’t stop myself. Somehow, what he said makes even less sense than me being set up. “He’s...? Matt’s— Are you saying you’re—?” I laugh. “Are you saying you’re a drug dealer?”
“I’m not a dealer. Matt is.” His lips remain pressed together, and his blue eyes seem to twinkle, as if he’s in on a big joke.
“Are you a supplier? A grower? The money man? Are you a fucking cop, Kellan?” My voice trembles. “Where’s Matt?” I jump up out of the chair. “I want to know what’s going on!”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know, but you need to tell me.” My breath hisses out my nostrils. “I don’t like surprises.”
“I don’t either,” he says, stepping close enough that I can smell his cinnamony breath. “So imagine my surprise when one of my guys told me he was losing clients to a sorority girl. A pretty girl with a nose ring and long, dark hair.”
His words are like drop-kicks to my chest. I hold my hands up while I try to comprehend. And then I do, and I see motherfucking red. “You’re a dealer. You’re a fucking dealer! What the fuck?”
He shakes his head, rubbing his mouth. “Matt’s a dealer. Not me.”
“You’re a grower!”
He shakes his perfect blond head. “Soil’s too rocky out here.”
“You must think I don’t know anything. No one grows it outside.”
“Most don’t,” he agrees. “You and I know that plants grown outside tend to yield higher bud counts.”
“So you are a grower!”
He shakes his head.
“You’re a money man. You loan money to a dealer—”
He shakes his head. “I don’t loan my money out to anyone.”
I watch him bring his hands together, lining up his fingertips as his face takes on a thoughtful slant. “I’ll make this straightforward, Cleo. On the condition that, if you ever tell anyone about our encounter here today, you’ll come to regret it.”
“That’s a little fucking creepy,” I snap, though I want to wail and flee. This is a fucking mess. I’m scared. I keep fear off my face, instead acting annoyed. “What’s your problem?”
He shakes his head. “Those sort of threats come with the business, right? I’m protecting my interests.”
“So you are in the weed business! Holy fucking shit.”
A soft smile flits over his lips. He lifts his brows. “I have a proposition for you,” he says softly.
“I cannot believe you did that!” I laugh, even as my heart is beating hard from pure, old-fashioned rage. “You scared me shitless, you asshole. You’re a fucking double-timing liar—and you stole my shit!”
He takes a smooth step back. Holds up his hands. “Whoa there.”
“Whoa my ass! You took my shit! You ruined my business. Now I’m—” I suck air in.
“Now you’re what?”
“I won’t be your competition anymore,” I rasp. My vision blurs from furious tears. “What you did led me to call my regular person. I must have sketched him out or just plain pissed him off, because now he isn’t dealing to me anymore.” I whirl around and lean against the bed’s footboard. I’m breathing so hard, I’m kind of scared I might pass out.
I feel his hand on my back. On the lower part, the curve of my spine just above my ass. It’s an intimate gesture, one that lets me know immediately he’s as controlling and enticing as I ever heard.
“Stop.” I whirl.
He smirks—gentle, as if he understands why I’m upset and only wants to alleviate my anxiety. “I’m your SGA president, Cleo,” he says patiently. “I wouldn’t lead you astray.”
“That’s bullshit. You threatened me! You lied. You’re such a big fat liar! You’re insane!” I take a step away from him, away from the bed. “I should leave right now. I mean, damn.”
“Are you sure?” He takes a small step toward me. “There’s lot of money on the table. You can earn more working with me than you can on your own.”
I snort. “I could never work for you.”
“Fine—that’s not my offer.”
“What is?”
“Working with me.”
FIVE
Cleo
My eyes roll up and down his body. Kellan Perfect Walsh isn’t. He’s a drug dealer. Who wants me to work with him. My mind spins at the crazy shift in our dynamic, and as it does, I realize I feel...tempted.
Shit.
I don’t stop to analyze my feelings. I snap, “No way. You must be insane,” and make a beeline for the door.
He’s on my heels. My ears pique, but he doesn’t speak. Good. I close my hand around the doorknob, but my fingers are shaking too badly to turn it. As I fumble with the knob, my traitorous eyes slide back to his handsome face.
“Just hear me,” he says softly.
I turn around and press my back against the door. “It doesn’t matter what you say, Kellan. My answer’s no.”
“Then no harm in hearing me, is there?”
I shrug. The answer is ‘yes’ but I’m not telling him that. My temptation is a secret. Secret shame.
“So if you decided to try dealing for me, the first thing we would do is, you’d live here for a few weeks,” he says calmly. “We would get to know each other. Come to trust each other.”
I scoff, even as my mouth goes dry. Living with Perfect Kellan... I shake my head. “I wouldn’t live with you if I was homeless.”
He closes the gap between us and looks down at me. “There’s a lot of money in this, Cleo. You could still be part of your sorority. Still be treasurer, even.” He smirks, as if the idea of me as treasurer is amusing. “But for a couple of weeks, you would live here. And during that time, I would train you.”
He rolls his shoulders. He looks tense, as if discussing this is taxing and he needs to loosen up. “I’m not a grower and I’m not a dealer. I’m an operation. I supply to everyone working campus, like Matt, and even to a lot of the town too. And I’ve got a steady supply of medical-grade shit.”
I snort, so he can’t tell I’m stunned. “I’ve heard that before.”
He nods. “But have you seen it?”
He’s looking at my hands, and I realize I’m still holding the bud. I run it under my nose once more, breathing deeply as I try to think.
I don’t trust this guy as far as I can throw him. Which isn’t far. He’s bulky as hell and the sad fact is, I haven’t lifted my puny five-pound arm weights in months.
When he touches my hand that’s holding the bud, I start to sweat. Not just because I don’t trust him. Because he’s very attractive, and for some inconvenient reason, my body reacts to his.
“What makes you think I’d ever live here with you?” I ask.
I don’t give two shits why he thinks I would live here. In fact, I’m sure he probably doesn’t think I’d do it at all. He just wants to prolong my time here while he tries to decide how to keep me from running off and squealing—because he can
surely see now that sharing his dirty little secret with me was a mistake.
But I ask the question because I want him to think I’m considering it. I turn the bud over in my hand, prompting him to move his fingers off me.
His mouth twitches. “Would you believe me if I said I make a mean crème brûlée?”
I snort. I don’t know what I believe, but Kellan in an apron isn’t it. It dawns on me: I have no proof that he’s a dealer. He could be playing me.
“I don’t,” he says, shrugging. “I’m an ice cream and instant mac guy.”
I can’t picture perfect Kellan eating instant macaroni, but I don’t say so. “And if I told you I would do it? What’s the next step?” I force a tiny smile. It’s all for show, to buy me a minute to think, but that doesn’t stop my cheeks and neck from flushing like they always do when I’m aroused.
My stomach flips, but I hold my smile for a few seconds. With my free hand, I rearrange my hair. “Do you treat all your prospective dealers this way? Matt...whoever else? Do they all get an invite to stay in one of your rooms here?”
“What do you think?” He smirks.
“I don’t think so.”
There are so many things I would say right here if I wasn’t pretending to go along with this ridiculous idea of his. For starters, why the hell would I want to live with him? I can’t deny he’s hot as hell, and now that I know he’s a chameleon, he’s interesting too—but he’s also scary. Normal people don’t have so much...duality.
(I know what you’re thinking. You’re pointing your finger. But I’m not in the student government, and sometimes, on Saturdays when I’m at the house painting my toe nails, I wear a tie-dyed Grateful Dead shirt. Yeah. The kind with the little dancing bears. I’m a total pot dealer at heart).
“They didn’t have to live here,” he says finally. “Neither do you. It’s an option. Can you see yourself staying here?”
“I don’t know.” I try to sound uncertain—like an idiot. “I think I’d miss my friends at the Tri Gam house.”
“I could make you forget about them.”
IS KELLAN WALSH PROPOSITIONING ME?
I breathe in through my mouth. “How?”
He doesn’t move, but I just know. I can feel the hum of tension in the air between us, and in that second, I get a wonderful idea. A devious idea.
He steps a little closer to me, sending my pulse racing. That reaction to him isn’t fake. His wide chest is inches from my breasts. I step forward.
My breasts mash against his chest as our hips brush. Half a heartbeat later, I feel his dick pressing against my lower belly. Wow...it’s totally hard.
Oh my God.
His hands come up and frame my face. His eyes, on mine, are hypnotic.
“I’m not going to lie to you. I want to fuck you, Cleopatra. That would be part of you staying with me. I’ll teach you how I do things and help you make more money. We fuck in between.”
I press my lips together. Holy fucking shit. I struggle to steer my mind back to my plan.
Kellan strokes his thumb over my lip, and I shudder—a real, live, turned-on shudder.
“Kellan...” I twine my arms around his neck and move in closer for a kiss. And when his soft, warm tongue separates my lips and strokes into my mouth, I imagine it between my legs.
I’m already wet for him.
That’s why it’s easy for me to tug him over to the bed. Easy for me to grab his collar and tug at his shirt, prompting him to pull it over his head. Easy for me to wriggle my way out of my red blouse, giving him access to my pale pink bra, the lacy one that makes my boobs look huge.
I have no trouble lying back on the mattress as he frees my breasts and sucks one of them into his mouth.
“Cleo...fuck, you’re gorgeous.”
I run my hands up his chest—a god’s chest: ripped and warm. I gasp at the pleasure of his tongue swirling around my nipple.
I gasp again when his hand unbuttons my gray jeans. He tugs them down my hips, then his fingers push past my panties and find my hot, slick skin. He spreads me open just enough to push a finger inside.
I grab at his crotch, feeling how ridiculously huge he is. I imagine him shoving it inside of me, and then his hands are pulling my pants off. His mouth is kissing down my belly as he adds another finger, stretching me so tight I can’t help moaning.
“You’re wet, Cleo. So wet for me. Let me make you feel good.”
And I decide right then, I will.
I will definitely let him make me feel good.
I grip his golden hair as he bends over. I claw his shoulders as he flicks his tongue, rolling it down my swollen slit while his fingers surge inside me, teasing till I’m breathless, panting, grinding senselessly against his mouth.
He eats my pussy like no one ever has, licking my clit firmly but gently, a glorious feline lapping milk, while his fingers pump inside me, skilled and rhythmic.
I come panting his name. Lie there feeling like my world has just been torn apart. When I open my eyes, his shirt is on again. He’s standing by the bed, looking down on me as if he owns me. And for a second, I think I understand why so many girls succumb to him.
I giggle. The sound echoes through my hollow head. “Damn, you’re...damn.”
“What do you say?” He raises one eyebrow.
I fake-grin, and pull my pants back on. “I think I might be game, but I want to get more information first.”
“What do you need?” He’s deadly serious. If I wasn’t already on edge, I would be now. My skin tingles. My heart pounds. My clit throbs.
I leave my shirt on the bed—a necessary sacrifice, I’ve decided—and slide off the mattress. I close the distance between the two of us with one stride and press my palms against his chest. “I want to suck your dick first, Kellan. Feel you in my mouth. That’s how I’ll really know if this is worth it for me.”
I can see the surprise on his face. The arousal in his eyes. He nods once. “Come with me.”
He pulls me over to the wing-backed chair and sinks down into it. He unfastens his pants and tugs them down, revealing an enormous, straining cock. I give myself a minute to behold its perfect shape and thick, outlandish size. To appreciate the nice, big balls that hang beneath it.
I think, if I liked him, I would definitely enjoy getting him off.
“Kneel,” he orders.
With a hungry smile, I do.
“Put your mouth around me, and I’ll tell you how I like it done.” So bossy. I kind of like that, given what I’m setting up here. Boss me around, baby. You just tell me how you like it.
I decide to tease him a little first. I try to wrap my fingers around him, and of course, he’s too thick. I encircle his shaft, just under the plump head, and feel him jerk a little. Damn, that’s hot. I run my hands up and down him, heady at the softness of his warm skin over the stiff erection.
I can feel him take a deep breath as I explore him with my hands. The trick here is to be gentle: a light touch as I roam under his balls—he makes a delicious, throaty sound—and travel up his shaft, where I rub my thumb under the rim of his head, right there where it meets the underside of his shaft. I don’t know what this little hot spot is called, but when I stroke it softly, guys go crazy.
Like right now. I feel his thighs tense as he blows his breath out. His hands tighten on my shoulders as I trace my fingertip around the rim of his head. I grip him with my other hand and start to pump. He grunts, hands clenching.
“Fuck...”
I pump his shaft and lick him there—one soft, slow lap at that sweet little indention on the underside of his head. He moans, and it’s too soon to give him more. Instead I trail around the rim again, exquisitely soft and light—a tease, designed to make him brainless.
And it works. He lifts his hips. “Oh fuckkk.” He squeezes my shoulders. I twirl my tongue under his head, and open wide, and close my lips around him. Fuck, he’s big. I-can-barely-fit-my-lips-around-him big.
I don’t h
ave room to twirl my tongue around him, so instead I use my lips—rubbing them just underneath the rim of his head, which is pushed against my tongue.
I feel him inhale. Exhale. His legs are shaking. “More.” He shifts a little, and I’m surprised to find he’s holding back. He wants to slam that big dick down my throat—I know he does—but he’s trying to be polite. The effort costs him, clearly. One big hand tunnels into my hair and tightens, pulling harshly as I stroke his shaft and suction my mouth around his head.
He groans. My eyes flick to his face, finding it rapt and tense.
“Your throat,” he moans. “Suck me...down into your throat.”
I cup one hand under his balls and keep pumping his cock. I’m gripping harder now, stroking faster. As I roll his full sac in my hand, his hips tremble. I hum a little, just to be a tease.
His eyes flip open. He looks wasted. Drugged. “Deeper,” he growls.
I suck my cheeks in around him, easing him carefully deeper as he wraps his hand around the back of my head. My eyes begin to water. He’s so big and thick. I’ve got his head completely in my mouth now, and I can feel the pressure at the back of my tongue. To truly take him in, I’ll have to open wide and gobble down his cock.
I take him deeper, looking up at him as saliva floods my mouth. His eyes are heavy-lidded...almost shut, long lashes tipped down. I can see some color in his cheeks that wasn’t there before. His perfect lips are slightly parted.
I take still of him and feel his legs spread wider. Fuck, they’re muscular. I stroke my fingers over his sac, and his cock rewards me with a soft throb I can feel against my cheeks.
Oh yeah. He really wants this.
Deeper and I’m almost gagging. I taste something salty. His fingers stroke my scalp.
He moans and shudders. I’m deep-throating him. Go me!
I shut my eyes and focus on relaxing my throat, while one of my hands grips his hard hip. The other strokes his balls, which pull taut as he settles deep in my throat. Tears slide down my cheeks as I swallow against his length and suck my mouth tightly around his base, until he’s thrusting those granite-carved hips, making me gag around his huge girth, rocking into my throat as he pants and flexes his legs and I suck air in through my nose.
