Page 81 of Sugar Coated Secrets

“The cookies are done,” I say, catching my breath.

He smiles and takes my lips, letting me taste myself on his tongue. “I like the way you taste much better,” he says between kisses.

“Is that so?” I smile.

“Yes, I believe you think so too, with the way you returned my kiss.”

I avert my gaze, feeling the heat rise on my cheeks. Ford has a way of getting what he wants, and I will no longer deny it. He has me. He always did, and I think he always will.

25

FORD

Iknock on Chris’s door as the sun disappears on the horizon. The blue in the sky is fading to black.

I am still unable to shake the memory of Dulce's moans when I went down on her on Friday. Her name was on my lips when my tongue was inside her, the memory living rent-free in my mind.

It's been three days, and every fiber of my being resists the urge to drag her to the nearest corner and fuck her. Memorize every inch of her body the way my mind has wanted for so long. But that's not how I want her first time with me to go. It shouldn’t be in a corner or in a small bed with a thin wall between us and her dying grandmother. It should be romantic and perfect. But all of that has to wait for now.

The door opens. Chris gives me a wide smile as the smell of beer and sweat wafts outside, and I want nothing more than to punch the smile right off his face. Stab him in the eyes and hang him.

“You came back,” he says like he expected me.

“I did.”

He waves me in.

“Come inside. I’ll kick everyone out in a sec.”

I walk inside, rubbing my nose, trying to get used to the smell. Three guys and two girls, both in their underwear, sit on the couch.

Chris taps each of them on the shoulder. “Hey, you all need to get out of here. I have company.”

Groans and complaints float across the room as they grab their clothes thrown across the floor, bumping into empty beer bottles and ashtrays as they head out.

When the door closes, Chris plops on the black leather couch.

“What’s up?” He nudges his head toward the loveseat. “Have a seat.” He lights up the roach. It glows like a beacon between his dirty fingers. “Let’s catch up.”

I take a seat, careful not to lean back. Who knows what has happened on these couches? I look around at the mismatched furniture. Some looks like it came with the house, while some are new. They're all dirty and need a hose to clean them off.

“What are you up to?” I ask, trying to sound casual like I couldn’t care less.

He smiles. “Funny. You should just say what you came to say.”

“Like?”

“Man,” he says, shaking his head. “I knew you would show up if you found out.” He lifts his head and blows out a cloud of smoke.

I play dumb. "Found out about what?”

He grins. “Prom night. I didn’t think you still had a thing for her after knocking up Summer.” He shrugs. “But who am I to judge?”

“Tell me what happened. Your version.”

He smiles like a weasel. His eyes shine brightly like he’s telling the best story. “She was the prank. I texted her using your old phone, asking her to prom. She got dressed up all pretty. Wepicked her up. I don't think the truth sank in yet until I picked her up and she realized you weren’t in the car."

He laughs, and I want to burn his eyes out with his little roach so I can hear him scream. “We let her out when she realized you never asked her to prom.”

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