Welcome to Sugartown

can’t remember a time when I ever ate chicken soup before this, but I’m sure even if I had, it was never this good. She slips a DVD in the player when I’m done and settles into the crook of my arm.

About twenty minutes in I remember she hasn’t eaten anything, and when I say as much she replies, “I ate before I came.”

I press my lips into her hair, slide my arm a little higher up her waist and whisper, “Say it again.”

“What?”

“Came.”

She laughs and I slide my hand up over her perfect tits and tilt her head up to mine to kiss her. I know I shouldn’t, but she’s here watching the ultimate guy movie with me and she made me chicken soup and forced medicine down my throat—and yes, she took away the vodka but that was probably for the best, too—and it occurs to me right then, in my fever heady state, that I’ve never had anyone take care of me before the way she does. And then it occurs to me that I could get used to having her care for me.

Too used to it.

My heart pounds around my chest uncontrollably. Fuck, when did I become such a complete pussy?

“Oh my god, you’re like some twisted little sex fiend when you’re sick.” She sits up and climbs over me until she’s straddling my waist. I lift her hips and seat her back down over my cock, which has been rock hard since she curled up next to me.

“Darlin’, nothing about me is little.”

She lets out a breathy laugh which is one part humour and all parts desire. “I can see that.”

She rocks back and forth gently over me. I can feel the heat of her sweet, hot pussy through her jeans and I sink my fingers into her hipbones, but it isn’t enough. I tug at her jeans.

“Off,” I grunt. “Everything off.”

“You’re kinda bossy when you’re sick, too,” she teases. “I like it.”

“Yeah?”

She bites her bottom lip. “Yeah.”

“Then take these damn clothes off and I’ll boss you around all you like.”

“Yes, sir.” She slips off the bed, careful not to take her eyes off me as she undresses. Once her t-shirt is off I know why: her bra is completely sheer. Seriously, there’s like the thinnest scrap of … whatever the hell they make women’s underwear out of between her full, beautiful tits and the world, and all I want to do is run my mouth over the fabric and tear it with my teeth. She smiles like she knows exactly what I’m thinking and slowly peels off her jeans, revealing a matching see-through-as-fuck G-string that definitely has a date with my teeth.

“Jesus, baby girl. Are you trying to kill me?”

“What, you don’t like them?”

“You’re shitting me right? The only thing I like more is seeing you in nothing at all and writhing underneath me.”

And speaking of.

I tug at the waist of my pants but Ana climbs back on the bed to help me. I must look pretty damn pathetic because she takes a hold of my hand and says, “Let me.”

She gently pulls them from me and throws them over her shoulder onto the floor, then leans back and stretches her arms behind her to unclasp her bra but I sit up and reach out to stop her. “Leave them on.”

She pushes on my chest so I’m lying flat on my back and then she’s taking me in her mouth, her hand gently cupping and squeezing my balls while the other milks my shaft. My eyes roll back in my head and I slide my fingers into her hair and tug on it, probably harder than I should. She makes a sound but, as it’s muffled by my cock, I’m not sure whether or not it’s one of pain or pleasure, so I do it again.

Definitely pleasure.

Whaddya know? My sweet, innocent Ana likes it rough. I did not see that one coming. And my brain isn’t quite sure how to process the information either. On one hand it excites me. Really fucking excites me. But on the other, it means I’m at an even greater risk of falling in love with her and that scares the ever-loving shit outta me.

Ana shifts on the bed so that she’s straddling my thigh. Her perfect arse is sticking up in the air and the thin elastic of her G-string follows the curve and disappears into her crevice. I trace the fabric with my finger and then hook my arm underneath her waist and lift her off of me. She giggles and shoots me a questioning glance before I shift her again and set her back down so that she’s still straddling me, but now she’s facing the opposite direction and her glorious pussy is in my face.

I run my hand over her arse but I can’t resist the urge to bring my hand down upon those beautiful, smooth cheeks. Some arses are just made for slapping, you know? Ana cries out. Her mouth is still wrapped around my cock, so once again the sound is muffled, but she rocks her hips back into my hand so I know I’ve done something right.

“You like it rough, baby girl, is that it?” I feel her hesitate. The steady rhythm she’d been keeping with her hand and mouth falters and she goes tense all over. “Hey, you’re safe with me. You know that right?”

I feel, more than see, her nod, and her voice has the sweetest quaver to it when she says, “I know and I think sometimes … I like it rough. I mean, it’s not like I have a lot of experience with this sort of thing, but I … well, I like everything you’ve done so far.”

“And if you don’t like something that I do?”

“I’ll tell you to stop.”

“And you believe I will?” I’m not challenging her, just trying to feel out how far her trust in me goes.

“I trust you, Cade.”

“Good.” I slide my hand over the red welts I’ve left on her arse and I feel her relax as she settles back into her own rhythm of exploring my cock with her lips and tongue. I pull her underwear aside and slide my finger from her arse all the way down to her clit. Ana squirms beneath my touch and I trace my finger back the way it came, pausing for a moment to play in the wetness of her opening. I glide my finger over the tight little rosebud of her arse and then circle the sensitive flesh. Ana’s whole body goes ramrod straight.

“Yes or no, baby girl?”

“I don’t… I’ve never—”

“Yes or no?” She pushes her arse into my hand. “That a girl.”

I dip my thumb into her pussy and glide it back to that sweet little puckered hole and gently, slowly, ease my thumb in. Her grip is so tight it’s sort of painful, and even though her mouth on my cock has ceased while she explores these new sensations, I almost lose my shit right there imagining what it’d be like to push my cock inside. Fuck me! I’ve never seen a woman more responsive to touch than she is.

“Okay?”

“Uh-huh,” she whispers.

The urge to flip her over and fuck her senseless is so great it could bring me to my knees, but I made her promise to make me work for it, and getting her off a handful of times doesn’t mean I’ve done jack shit to earn that right yet. So, for now, I busy myself by plunging my middle finger into her pussy and allowing my tongue the chance to explore everything else, from her clit to the inside of her thighs.

She hasn’t resumed her sucking. In fact, aside from the places where our bodies are connected, she’s not touching me at all and I couldn’t care less. My Johnson’s not happy about it, but he fucking should be considering I’ll never need a new mental image for my spank bank ever again. Seeing the way Ana writhes against my hand, the way her hips buck and shudder, hearing the breathy moans escape that ridiculously fuckable mouth of hers as she comes for me is enough to make me never want to look at another woman again, much less fuck one.

With all the shit I’ve done, the hurt I’ve caused people, some I barely knew and others I knew too well, for all the worthless hours I’ve spent wandering through this mess I call a life, looking at this girl before me—who is so perfect and innocent, and downright trusting in every way—I know that, somewhere along the line, I must have done something right for her to want to let me in.

I also know that I’m completely fucking screwed.