Boyfriend Bargain Read online

  The weight of her is perfect and full in my palm. I suck one into my mouth, flicking my tongue at the rosy pebble. My hand massages one as I attend to the other, giving it attention with my tongue and lips, switching it up, my instinct reading her body, gauging the little moans.

  She cries out my name as I push her tits together and lick them both, sucking on them at the same time, my eyes looking up at her, letting her see that I’m a dirty fucking lover and I’m going to devour every single inch of her.

  “Z,” she says, urging me on with little breaths.

  Moving up her body, I kiss her neck, sucking hard. She gives it right back, her lips on my jawline, nipping and then kissing me sweetly.

  “You’re beautiful,” I murmur in her ear, my tongue exploring the curves and recesses there, my hands still plucking, running my fingers over her nipples, playing her like a piano. I want to spend time here. I want to put my dick between those mounds and fuck her. I want her tits in my face when she’s bouncing on top of me. I want her breasts in my hands when I wake up.

  We kiss and her hands are running through my hair, tugging on the ends. “Please.” She claws at my shirt, helping me pull it over my head and toss it to the floor.

  She sucks in a breath at my tattoo, and I guess she didn’t get a good view of it at the Kappa house. Her fingers brush over the lines on my chest, and I know there will be questions later.

  I groan when my fingers slip into her silky panties and she’s dripping wet. My forehead goes against hers as our eyes lock. Panting, she writhes against my fingers, her hips rotating against my palm.

  She shudders as I make my way down her neck, my lips hard and then soft to make up for it. I want to consume every inch of her, devour her in one big gulp, and I try to go slow…but I can’t. It feels like a decade since I last saw her. I want to make up for lost time. I want to own her. I want her begging me…

  And fuck…

  Fuck…

  My dick has never been this hard.

  “Z.” The way she says my name like it’s a benediction kills me.

  “You want to come?” My voice is a mangled mess. I don’t know if I’m going to come in my pants or pass out right here.

  “Yes,” she moans.

  She smells like vanilla, sweet as I finger her, slick within her heat, working inside the panties. Finally I slip them off, taking them down her legs and throwing them wherever the hell everything else is.

  The sound of laughter drifts in from somewhere, I don’t know where, but it’s either someone out in the yard for a stroll or someone coming or leaving the house.

  She doesn’t even miss a beat.

  I grab her nape, maintaining eye contact, my thumb circling her clit.

  Tossing her hair, she bites her lip and leans into my touch, her hips arching toward me, aching for more.

  Using one finger, I rub across that tiny bundle of nerves at the top of her channel, knowing it will send her over the edge. “Just wait for it,” I growl. “Open your legs more.”

  She leans back, and I flick her nub and finger her at the same time, her face flushing, her mouth gasping as she reaches for that pinnacle.

  “I’m going to fuck you on this table when you come,” I say, and the words are the catalyst that sends her over. She twists her hips up to me, milking my finger as she clenches and clamps down around me.

  She’s got her hands all over me, on my chest and shoulders, touching me as I reach around to my wallet and dig through the contents until I come to a condom. Dropping my wallet to the floor, I rip it open with my teeth, shove my jeans down past my hips, and slip it on.

  Holding on to her waist, I slide inside her inch by inch, trying to go slow until I can’t, pushing in to the hilt. We both groan at the heat and friction and fullness. I bow my head over her.

  “Z…” she begs, and I pull out and go back in all the way. With my hands on her hips, I pump inside her, my pelvis thrusting, taking. My fingers dig into her skin as sweat drips off my face.

  “Harder,” she moans. I pinch her nipple, and her nails claw into my back.

  The table scoots across the floor, and my fingers are back on her sweet spot, rotating to the beat of my hips. Her legs lock around my waist and we fuck and fuck until mine are like jelly. My heart is about to come out of my chest and I’m muttering under my breath, telling her how much I want her. I think I could die with the feel of her around me.

  She leans back to catch her breath, watching me, and I use the moment to put my hands on her sex, my thumbs spreading her apart, watching my dick slide in and out of her.

  “I can’t get enough,” I growl, hardening more, getting close, so close.

  She moans when she comes again, and I’m there, baby. I’m so there. I yell when I come inside her, my back arching, my hips slowing down, wanting more of her but knowing I need a damn minute. I ease out of her channel and push right back in, wanting more, and shit, in about five minutes, I can go again. I want to enjoy her slowly next time, explore the bend of her knee, that little birthmark on her stomach, the hollows in her back, the curve of her ass. I want it all. Again.

  Several seconds go by. I don’t know how many. She leans against my chest, and my hand is in her hair. We hold each other as the room spins.

  Fumbling around on the table, she pulls away from me and gradually moves to standing, easing herself down.

  I huff out a laugh, still trying to catch my breath. “Good, babe? Ready for round two?”

  She starts and gives me a sharp look as she clasps her bra and adjusts her dress, the bodice gaping even after she ties it. Shit. I’m about to apologize, but something is off as she looks around the floor, an unsure look on her face.

  I don’t like that expression. Unease washes over me.

  “Hey, about the dress—I’ll get you another one.”

  Her chest rises. “It’s Poppy’s.”

  I don’t know who that is but I assume it’s one of her friends. I slide off the condom, tie it off, and lay it on the table, intending to get rid of it later. “Introduce us and I’ll apologize in person.”

  “No, it’s fine. I was into the tearing of the clothes. I think you lost a button on your jacket.” She shakes her head, her fingers running through her hair. “I can’t find my underwear.”

  I pick them up and hand them to her, my hand trailing down her arm, itching to lace our hands together. I want her close. I can’t explain it.

  But…

  Something isn’t right.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” I ask, and she stops, looking at me then dropping her gaze.

  “This…” Her voice trails off as she motions between us with her hands.

  “What about this?” I’m sliding my jeans up and buttoning them. Snatching my shirt off the floor, I slip it back on and then rake a hand through my hair, straightening it although I know there’s no fixing it. I pick up the jacket and hold it out to her. “You’ll need this.”

  “No.” Her blue eyes are big as she darts them around the garage as if looking for answers there. “Look, I’m not sure this was…” She stops, chewing on her lips.

  My mouth tightens.

  “Babe, what’s to regret? What’s wrong with seeing what this is? It’s good, right?”

  She flushes, the color rising from her throat up to her face. “I’ve told you before—don’t call me babe. My ex did—”

  I go from sated to annoyed to pissed off. “Who is this asshole? That Bennett guy Lola mentioned? Fuck him. I’m not him.”

  There’s a hesitant look on her face as she opens her mouth to speak but doesn’t. Instead, she paces around the garage, her dress swishing around her long legs.

  I’m scared she’s going to leave and I move with her, turning her around to face me. “Wait, Sugar. Look, I—I just had mind-blowing sex and you immediately regret it and bring him up to me. How do you expect me to react?”

  She bites her bottom lip. “Not everything is about you, Z. I have a history with my ex, okay? I don
’t want to get hurt. You…you have girls all over you, all the time, just like he did.”

  I inhale. “Right. Next time, I won’t call you babe. Hell, I’ll never call anyone that ever again. Will that make you happy, girl of the month?”

  “Now you’re just being an asshole.” Her face is pale as she rubs at her cheeks.

  “We both knew this would happen. Right?” I’m grappling for words here. Shit, I don’t know how to handle a girl who’s so…closed off after sex. Where’s the giddiness in her that I feel? Where’s the need to do it again, as soon as possible? Fuck. Maybe…maybe I read her all wrong and she just isn’t into me. No. I know this is good. I knew it at the Kappa party.

  “We were supposed to keep this unemotional,” she says quietly.

  “I don’t even care about that bullshit bargain. This is about you and me.”

  “It’s not bullshit to me.” Her voice is flat.

  I look up to the ceiling, sighing. “We’ll go to my room and figure this out, okay? If you’re lucky, I’ll fuck you again. You don’t seem to have an issue as long as my dick’s inside you.” I’m teasing, completely joking, trying to lighten up what is getting to be an out-of-control moment, but it’s a crap thing to say and maybe there’s a small part of me that’s scared too, and when I get nervous, my mouth says shit I don’t mean.

  Her nose flares and she shakes her head at me. “I’m leaving.”

  “The hell you are. You’re supposed to be here with me.”

  “No. I’m here for me, Z.” She gives me a disappointed look and marches out the door.

  My heart flops around in my chest. What the fuck just happened? Goddamn.

  She…she left me.

  21

  Sugar

  I bolt out into the yard and head for my car, sans shoes and coat. At least my little sequined crossbody purse is draped across my chest. I huff out a laugh that really isn’t a laugh but more like a what in the hell just happened and what am I going to do now sound.

  I feel tears welling up and I fight to keep them at bay.

  I wouldn’t put it past Zack to chase after me—I’ve never met a more determined person—so I pull up the hem of my dress and jog, which isn’t such a bad idea anyway considering it’s cold as hell. I’m insane to be running barefoot across a street in Minnesota at the end of January with no jacket on. Thank goodness we’re having unnaturally warm weather, a balmy thirty-three degrees. My feet are chunks of ice as I reach my truck, crawl inside, and crank it up. I sit here, my head resting against the steering wheel, letting the heat kick in before I take off.

  My throat feels tight and I want to cry, but I clench my fists, determined to not give in.

  Z and I just blew up at each other.

  Why?

  What the hell just happened?

  Why are we so combustible?

  Why am I so upset?

  Why do I want to go back to him and see where we went wrong?

  You can’t, my inner voice says, and I hunch over. I think about the girls there tonight, the ones I can’t compete with. What if…what if I fall for him?

  Fuck.

  A tear courses down my face, and I grimace as more fall. Wetness tracks down my cheeks, and I close my eyes and put my face in the stream of hot air that’s blowing from the dash.

  After a few seconds, I gather myself together and pull out onto the street. Not wanting to go back to my dismal dorm, I end up driving around Lake Sparrow. I contemplate checking in with Mara, but she’s in work mode at this hour and I don’t want to bug her. Taylor and Poppy…I could call them, but they each had their own thing to do tonight. When midnight looms, I run through the drive-through at the all-night Krispy Kreme—sorry to cheat on you, Joaquin—and go back to the dorm. I could have bought extras earlier when I picked up Eric’s, but I didn’t think about it. I guess I’m jonesing for donuts because I’m sad. Ugh. Someday, I’m going to have to cut back on my treats, but not today. Not today.

  I park illegally, near the inner circle where people walk, because I’m shoeless. I drift in through the front door of the lobby and it’s mostly quiet, thank goodness. I don’t want anyone to see what a mess I am right now. The girl behind the desk arches a brow when I pass by and then calls my name.

  “Hey, you’re Sugar, right, in 412?”

  I plod back over to her. “Yeah?”

  She picks up a small vase of daisies and sets them on the counter. I blink down at them and look at her. It’s the third one in a month.

  She shrugs. “No card, but a really hot guy with dark hair dropped them off for you. He said he was your boyfriend and wanted to come up to your room, but well, it’s past visiting hours and all, although I was tempted. He’s hot. Nice catch there.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s my ex.”

  “Okay.” She shrugs and goes back to her desk.

  I exhale and pick up the vase. Fucking Bennett. Now I have two things to carry upstairs. “Thanks.”

  I take off for the steps, my feet heavy as I climb the flights up to my floor. Periodically, I pause and look down at the white and yellow flowers.

  I glare down at them. Daisies. They aren’t even my favorite, but he always got them for me because he liked them. “They’re glorified weeds,” I say to no one and keep walking. “If you would have just listened to me, Bennett, you’d know I don’t care for pale flowers with no soul.”

  Maybe Julia will like them.

  Once inside my room, I see that she’s gone. Typical. I set down the bag of sugary fried dough and flowers, glad I have my entire dorm room to myself.

  I yank open my dresser to pull out a Boobie Bungalow pink tank and a pair of booty shorts. For once the stupid radiator in the room seems to be working, but there’s no valve so it’s hot as heck. Once the torn dress is off and hung up nice and neat, I pull out a half-full bottle of Grey Goose from the top shelf in my closet and pour a few inches into a plastic cup. From the fridge, I pull out a club soda and a lime. When you’re a girl dealing with a cheating ex and a creaky old dorm room, these are basic tools of survival.

  “I’m sorry you got ripped in the crazy sex,” I say to the dress with a little sigh as I plop back down on my bed. I keep a small sewing kit in my desk, and I make a mental note to see if I can fix the tear. If I can’t, I’ll send it to the alterations place across the street from BB’s.

  Annoyed and frustrated, I fluff up my pillows, flop down, and turn on HBO.

  “Game of Thrones,” I snap into my remote. I need Jon Snow, stat.

  I’ve gone through one drink and an entire episode of my re-watch, and I’m at the part where a zombie shows up—

  Someone bangs on my door.

  “Great timing! Almost pissed myself,” I mutter. Setting my drink on my desk next to me, I dash to the door.

  “Who is it?”

  “Z.”

  My stomach clenches. He came after me? I put my hands on my hips. “Shouldn’t you be at the party?”

  “I left. Went for a run.” His voice is low.

  “But it’s Eric’s birthday.”

  I hear a sigh. “The last I looked, Eric was with twins, one on either side of him. He won’t even miss me.”

  There’s a long pause.

  “Are you going to let me in?”

  I chew on my lips. “Not a good idea.”

  “Are you afraid we’ll have mind-blowing sex again?”

  My teeth snap together. “We shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we said we wouldn’t.”

  “I knew we would.”

  “Well, I thought we were on the same page.”

  “We might have been, but then you walked into my house—”

  “I have neighbors you know. They tend to listen.”

  He lets out a small laugh, but I sense the strain underneath. “Come on, Sugar, let me in.”

  But here’s the thing—there is no fixing this, because he’s hot and sexy and even now my body is pract
ically pressed against the door. I have no control. None.

  “Plus, I need to give you your shoes and coat. You ran off without them.”

  “You ran with my stuff?”

  “I wore a backpack—just for you.”

  “Fine. Put them by the door.”

  A few seconds tick by and I’m wondering, dying to know what he’s doing.

  “What’s all the moving around? You still there?”

  “Yep. Just sitting down. Not going away until you let me in to apologize.”

  “For what? Be specific.”

  He sighs and I hear the clack of the heels as he sets them on the tile beside my door.

  “Things.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He exhales. “I’m sorry I flew off the handle when you brought up your ex. It’s just…I don’t like to think about you being with him.”

  “Why?”

  “You know why.” His voice is terse. He sighs. “I’m sorry I called you the girl of the month. There is no such thing, I swear. Some jersey chaser made that up to be cute my freshman year and it just stuck. Now we just make jokes about it.” He pauses. “I’m not the testosterone-addled asshole you think I am. I’m just a mostly normal dude who happens to be really into you.”

  I fidget from one foot to the next, my head going back to the dragon tattoo I saw tonight. Placed on his left shoulder with the head lying over that side of his chest, it was massive and colorful, inked in shades of royal blue and yellow with orange flames coming from the mouth.

  I chew on my nail. “When did you get your tattoo?”

  He lets out a sigh, part weary, part amused. “Truly, it’s a fine story, how I came to have this wonderful tattoo, but it’s one that should only be told face-to-face.”

  I cross my arms. “You are not getting into my room.”

  “Because you’re too chicken to be alone with me?”

  I huff. “I am not—”

  “You’re afraid you’ll take one look at my incredibly muscled, naked chest—”