Welcome to Sugartown

myself slowly peeling off my singlet top. I let it fall away to expose my breasts. My nipples harden into peaks and I can practically feel his tongue gliding over them as he wets his lips, though I’m still standing several feet away.

“Pants too, baby, don’t cheat me outta seeing that beautiful fucking pussy,” he commands, and I hesitate with my hands on the elastic waist of my PJs. I’m not sure I’m entirely ready for something like this.

“No,” I whisper.

“Ana,” he warns.

“No. This is as far as this goes. I don’t trust either of us with any more than that.”

“You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?”

“The feeling’s mutual, Cade.”

He lets out a long sigh and begins stroking again. One hand is cupping his balls and his eyes never leave my body as he drives himself closer to orgasm. My heart kicks into overdrive, my head is spinning questions and my body is screaming out for his touch, but I don’t do anything more than lean against the door with my breasts exposed as I watch the single most erotic scene I’ve ever witnessed. I don’t know what I’m doing here and yet I can’t turn away. My heart feels as though it’s cracking open.

“Touch yourself,” he commands.

“No.”

“Come closer.”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Fuck! Why is it always no with you?”

“Because I don’t trust myself with you.” There. I said it. It’s a dangerous admission, especially in a situation like this, but I said it all the same, and oddly enough the sense of relief I feel is overwhelming.

As if in retaliation, Elijah quickens his pace. His hands on his body are no longer languid but almost punishing. He’s brutalising himself as punishment, and I don’t know if that punishment is meant solely for him, or me, or for the both of us.

His eyes lock with mine as the first wave of pleasure rocks through him and that’s exactly where they stay until his creamy semen spurts from his cock all over the bed. As Elijah rides out the euphoria I swiftly throw on my shirt and then I quietly creep out the door the way I should have before I let it get this far.

Have I just ruined everything by allowing that to happen? And what exactly did just happen? God, I really have to learn to knock.

I lean against the door for a beat until I hear Holly calling out about wanting her pancakes, so I quietly tread up the hallway and head into the kitchen like nothing has happened.

“Oh my god, what took you so long? Mini Coop just about shrivelled up and died of hunger waiting for you to get back.”

“Sorry, I had to go to the bathroom.”

“Well, is he joining us? Because if not I am so eating his share,” Holly asks and then narrows her eyes on me as she glances between my clothing and face. Her mouth gapes open as her eyes zero in on something. I follow her gaze and realise that, in my haste to leave Elijah’s room, I’ve put my singlet on inside out. “Oh my god! Did you? Did he? Did the two of you finally bump uglies?”

“Will you keep your voice down, please?” I slip it off and turn it the right way out before Jack comes running to find out what all the fuss is about and draws the same conclusions as Holly. In fact, why stop at just my housemates? Why not have a giant neon sign made up that says I’m a dirty slut who takes her clothes off so her ex-boyfriend can get a glimpse at the goodies as he jerks off, so the whole town can see it? Oh, right, the town already thinks I’m a slut, so I guess I can probably save my money and forgo the sign.

“No. I did not have sex with him.” I go about throwing my ingredients into the bowl and mixing up the batter.

“Well, then why does your sweet little face look so goddamn guilty, Ana?

“Because I might have done something I shouldn’t have. Now can we please stop talking about this?”

As usual, Holly ignores me. “Hell no! I want details, what did you do?”

“I walked in on him.”

“You walked in on him? Walked in on him what?”

“You know,” I say and give her the wide-eyed head nod that comes with letting someone fill in the blanks.

“Holy shit, did you walk in on him jerking his chain?”

We hear someone clear their throat behind us and spin around to find Elijah—in only a pair of faded old jeans, his hair still damp from his shower and looking every bit as enticing as he was in his room just moments ago—leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Mornin’ ladies.”

Holly folds her arms and leans back against the counter opposite him. “And what a glorious morning it is.”

I turn back to my batter and whisper in an aside, “Would you please stop referring to his morning glory?”

“That it is,” Elijah shoots back, and I know without even having to look at him that the smug smile is back on his face. “A perfect morning, in fact.”

Twenty minutes later, we’re all sitting around our kitchen table eating pancakes. I look at my flatmates and think that we may be an unconventional family and we might fight and scream and yes, admittedly some of us might want to tear one another’s clothes off from time to time, but we are just that—a family. And I wouldn’t change that for the world.

Elijah’s eyes lock with mine across the table, and instead of seeing the intense heat he’s been spearing me with all morning, I see them soften in a silent question; are we okay? I smile back at him. It’s not seductive, coy or even playful; it’s the kind of smile I’ve been giving Holly since the day we met. It’s the same smile I give Jack when he says something so unbelievably stupid that I burst out laughing. The same smile I give Sammy when he gets the green light to leave the bench and join the game in rugby. And the same smile I give to my dad when he’s being a pigheaded, bull of a man who suddenly quits yelling and guffaws out loud mid-sentence because he can see what a shit he’s being.

It’s love in its purest and unsullied form, without desire and sex and greed and complication. It’s just love.

Are we okay?

We’re better than okay.

We’re home.

Chapter Thirty Six Elijah

Christmas morning I’d been woken just after six by two girls bouncing around half naked on my bed. No, it’s not as naughty as it sounds, and yes, do I ever wish it had been. Ana and Holly had been like little kids, giggling, jumping up and down and screaming that Santa had come while we’d slept.

I’d mumbled some half-arse reply about him coming again if they kept jumping around in their underwear and they’d laid into me with their tiny fists of fury. Which, surprisingly, had hurt more than it should have. Then they’d dragged me and Jackson out to the living room to exchange gifts under the tree with bleary eyes and hangovers from hell.

We’d all gone a little nuts this year, pooling our money together to buy one another gifts. Ana had been harping on for ages about buying herself some overpriced fancy electric beater, and I’d gone with Holly earlier in the week to pick one out. She’d been over the freaking moon when she unwrapped that sucker and Holly had already requested a long list of baked goods to come from it.

I had something else small for her, but I wanted to wait until we were alone before I gave it to her. It