Page 14 of Exclusive

“Change of plans, Hot Shot.” My voice’s huskier than intended, stripping me of some authority. “I’m about to tell ya how it’s gonna be, and this time, you’re gonna fuckin’ listen.” Her eyes dart up to mine, widened with shock, but still hazed with lust. “Yeah, you heard me right.” I wink, breaching her asshole with the tip of my forefinger, and pulling out of her mouth, denying her my dick.

The deeper I push my finger, the quicker her moans come, so her sass-back is broken and breathless. “Seriously? Not now, Not tonight. You promised.”

“Did I?” My grin’s coy, arched brow questioning, and next move flawlessly executed… ‘cause she’s on her back, pulled to the very edge of the bed, and glaring up at me before she knows what happened. “To give you what you need? Yeah, that promise I made.” I grab both of her calves, pushing them up and out, splaying her wide open. “Hold them there. Right there.” Her eyes are thin with defiance, as her body obeys.

“Sutton, please,” she heaves, both a plea and argument, “can’t we just-”

“Do things your way?” I skim a hand, and every single fingertip, down each of her thighs, coming to rest on either side of her piqued pussy. “Stick to your script, like always? You know the one, where you say exactly what I need to hear, I fall for it, and we fix your problem of the moment by fucking it out?” Next, I really turn the tables on her — ironically, the strongest weapon in my arsenal is the same one in hers — my fingers holding the hot, wet lips of her pussy open while one thumb teases her core, the other tapping out a sensuous rhythm on her clit.

Two can play this game, Hot Shot.

“Sutton,” she begs in a frenzied moan, neck and back bowing her into a beautiful arch, “you’re, you’re not playing fair.”

“Well, nice to meet you, Pot. You can call me Kettle.” My chuckle’s as calculated as my intentions. “Time to decide, Presley…” I press harder and faster on her hot button, my thumb now buried in her. “Fair, unfair, meaningless, or meaningful… we’re both playing by the same rules from now on. So, what’s it gonna be?”

“Wh, what do you mean?” She trips over her words, about to fall over the edge, muscles contracting around my thumb.

I don’t let up on my care of her body, nor my insistence. “I love you, Presley, even more than I hate your demons. When you hurt, I hurt. But I can’t help, really help, if you won’t let me. If all you’re ever gonna let me be is your quick fix, distraction, favorite Band-Aid, then so be it. That’s the mindset I’ll be switching to, right now. No more puppies, flowers, songs… I’ll make you come a few times, get my nut, and leave. Or…”

“Sutton!” My name tears past her lips, a tortured wail, as she loses the battle to her orgasm. “Damn you!”

“Used to that,” I sound a twisted laugh. “Been damned, caught between Heaven and Hell since I met you, Hot Shot. Same place you’re stuck right now. Sucks, doesn’t it?” I slow my pace, lighten my touch, caressing her down from euphoria. “See, if I had to guess, I’d say there’s one helluva debate whirling around your head; ‘do I take this win and, on wobbly legs, thighs drenched, show him to the door, or, do I meet him halfway?’ Then again, knowing you, you’re probably weighing option three, ‘Can I pretend, fake him out, long enough to get a good ride, then change my tune tomorrow?’ How’d I do?”

Together now, she lets go of her legs and props herself up on her elbows, worming backward to demand I take my hands off, and out of, her. Eyes thinned to violet darts of suspicious worry, she cocks her head, gun — her mouth — already locked and loaded. “What exactly are you proposing?”

Holy shit, she’s shooting blanks. I can hardly form a coherent thought past my shock, and I definitely didn’t have an answer ready for that response.

To stall, and get close to her, desperate to soak up the semi-sweet morsel she’s giving me, I climb on the bed and wrap my arms around her. “The unthinkable, drastic and first of its kind.” My twitching lips brush her forehead. “I’m daring to suggest… we date. Not a date, here and there, that you force yourself through just to get to our normal finish line. I’m saying we try being a real couple. And before you ask, yes, I’ll explain what that means.” She swats my arm, rolling her eyes, but rolls ‘em right back to lock with mine… because she really does need a definition. Which, in the most pathetic of ways, fills me with a primal pride; damn happy to take the win — I’ll be her first, and last, actual boyfriend.

“Sutton, can’t we just, be… whatever it is that we are? I’m not, and promise I won’t, see anyone else. You do the same. Lest I murder your Jizzabel, and we just let shit ride? Why must you outline everything, especially when we’re naked?” She pauses on a heavy exhale, trying to wriggle some space between us. Denied. “You…” she squeezes her eyes shut, shaking her head, “you are the most frustrating man alive! I, we, aren’t a spreadsheet, Sutton! Some things won’t fall under a certain column, category, or bullet-point, no matter how hard you try!”

My smirk only aggravates her further, but that’s just too damn bad. “You done?”

“You know what?” Her laugh’s facetiously brittle. “I am. I’ve run out of ideas on what to say to make you understand.”

“Oh, I understand, Hot Shot. I understand exactly how it is you want things to go, and now, after reading…” my voice starts to fade, but I recoup, “I even understand why. I don’t agree and think you’ve been ‘letting shit ride’ for way too long, but I do, finally, have all the blanks filled in. And, if you recall, before your lil’ tantrum, I already agreed — if you really want us to stay fuck buddies only, fine. That’s what we’ll be. That’s all we’ll be. I won’t even bother you with the niceties, gifts, little gestures, big gestures, again. But I thought you were gonna hear out my idea before makin’ your call?”

What. The. Entire. Fuck?

He’s waiting for me to respond, but I’m not sure I should, can, until I take a minute, or several, and determine whether or not I am in fact, in the midst of a full-blown psychotic break.

See, I think what’s happening right now is, there’s a naked heterosexual male, my saliva still drying on his dick, lying in my bed, where, I just so happen to be also lying, right beside him, also naked, the essence of my orgasm still on his fingers — and we’re talking. At length. On Quantum-fucking-Physics levels. So yeah, I’m a tad worried about my current relationship, or lack thereof, with reality, ‘cause I’m gonna go out on a limb and say — this is not a scene that plays out every day.

“Presley?” he urges… maybe. I mean, I heard it, but can’t be sure it happened. “Where’d ya go? Look at me, Sugar. Stop freaking out and look at me.”

My eyes collide with the rich, green pair that always guide me back to center; the only eyes in the whole world that have ever been able to see into me, through me… all of me. “I’m back,” I whisper.

“I see that.” He laughs, blinding me with those dimples of his, and confirming the thought not yet left my mind — Sutton sees everything. “You good now? If I talk, you gonna hear me?” I nod, earning myself a kiss on the forehead, before he spouts more profound. “If memory serves, it wasn’t too long ago that you wanted to try dating, even asked your family for help finding candidates. So, that tells me, it’s not the idea of dating in general that scares ya… it’s the thought of dating me.”

Though he’s quick to stow them away, he’s not quick enough, and the shards of pain that flashed in his eyes slice me wide open. I lift a trembling hand, my intention to caress his cheek, but he shifts… as does everything else. Gone is any trace of the dimples I adore, the solace he normally exudes, a single sprinkle of joviality in his voice, or breathing room — the aim too thick to inhale.

“Why is that, Presley?” It’s my turn to hedge away, strangers with the undercurrent of anger in his drawl. “Why is it that I’m good enough for you some of the time, more than good enough for some things, but I just can’t seem to make the cut for anything more? You’d rather let your family hunt up random victims than give me a shot, and I want. To. Know. Why. If there’s something so fucking wrong with me, some fundamental flaw I’m unaware of, the very least you can do is point it the fuck out to me!”

“This is exactly why-”

He doesn’t simply interrupt me; he crashes, not even a tap on the brakes, through my attempt at a reply. “Well guess fucking what. You’re too late! Yep, foiled your own goddamn plan, Hot Shot,” he sneers, launching himself off the bed to tug, yank, may have heard a rip, on his clothes. “While you were busy spoutin’ all your ‘oh, we can’t get attached,’ bullshit, yet, somehow, continuing to attach yourself into my life, repeatedly…” boots on, he grabs his stuff off the nightstand and stomps toward the door, “I. Got. Attached. And no matter how hard you try, my feelings aren’t yours to control. Which, by the fucking way,” he glares at me over his shoulder, “is pretty comical, seeing as how you don’t even have control over your own feelings.”

“I can’t believe you just said that.” I gasp out the unimaginable hurt inflicted before I have a chance to disguise it in snark.

“Yeah, well, I’m sick of playing patty-cake. You can’t take what you dish out, need shit rolled in sugar for ya, call your mama, Princess.”

I hear him say bye to Castello before slamming the front door, at the exact same moment my first tear falls, and I realize… I’ve never been more ashamed of anyone else’s nickname for me in my life… proven unworthy of the title by the one who never calls me by it.

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