Boyfriend Bargain by Ilsa Madden-Mills
45
Sugar
The entire flight to Birmingham, I stare at Z while he sleeps, head laid back, an extra pair of my headphones on as he zones out. We managed to get him a seat on the plane and then arranged to sit together. As people passed by while walking down the aisle, some passengers asked for his autograph and he went along with it, his face blank and shuttered. But when he looked at me, he glowed, and his face—it was open and free and happy.
I think about all the things he said last night, about how much he loves me, just me, and as if he knows I’m thinking of us, his hand twitches in mine, and he gives it a squeeze.
His eyes open and he sits up then gazes down at me. “What are you thinking about?” There’s an earnestness in his expression, as if he’s been patiently waiting for me to pick up the reins of what’s between us.
“You. I’ve never seen you this chill.”
He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “I’m happy. Are you?”
I nod.
He leans over and brushes his lips against mine. Emotion wells up in his gaze. “We are so good together, Miss Ryan. I fucking love you. I want this. I want you. If you’re not sure, I’ll wait. I’m not saying I’ll do it patiently or I won’t end up fucking you when you look at me with those big eyes, but I understand if you need some space. Shit, I’m not even making sense, am I?”
I stare up at him, taking in the stony features that are drawn up tight as he waits for me to respond. I see a half-wild look in his gaze, hope mixed with tension and strain.
“Tell me what you need, please, just tell me and I’ll do it. I want us to be right.”
And I know.
I know.
He adores me. He has the whole time. The anxiousness of his face slays me. He’s needed me next to him all this time while we were apart, and I let him go, I walked away from him because I was scared I was letting him too close. But not anymore. Love doesn’t work if you don’t commit to it fully, taking the bad with the good. Love doesn’t work if two people aren’t willing to give and take. I should have given him a chance that night. I should have listened. And in the end, I’m not like my mama, I’m not. She made a bad choice, but Z is not a bad choice. He’s opened himself up to me and shown me parts of himself that no one knows about. He chose me and it had nothing to do with Willow.
“What?” he says. “You have a funny look on your face.”
“I’m just thinking about the day you taught me to ice skate—or tried to, however you want to look at it. You told me to not be afraid to fall, and I’m not. I’m all in with you.” I rub my hand across his jaw and my fingers feel the pulse between us. “I love you so much, Z. I don’t want to ever be apart from you again.”
He exhales and his eyes close briefly, a long deep breath coming from his chest, one he seemed to have been holding since we woke up. “You, Sugar Rae Ryan. Always you.”
I kiss him.
* * *
After rentinga Suburban on Z’s dime because he insisted, we begin our three-hour drive to Davenport. He’s got one hand laced with mine and he can’t stop looking at me, his gaze taking me in appreciatively, and I have to tell him to watch the road.
I laugh at the giddiness in my heart, at the smell of springtime in the air, at the feeling of hope in my chest.
I check my lipstick in the mirror.
“You’re fucking gorgeous.” His eyes drift over my flowy white skirt and the fitted black shirt with a white pearl-lined Peter Pan collar. It’s a little understated but classy. To make it pop, I splurged on a pair of leopard print heels that Taylor found for me.
I cross my legs, and he looks at them and grins. “Feeling tense, Miss Ryan? I can make all that go away.” He raises an eyebrow.
“Keep your eyes on the road, hockey player.”
“I can pull over if you want. Don’t we have an hour to spare?” He sends me a pleading look, the mere flash of his smile enough to make my pulse flare.
“We do,” I murmur then reach over and kiss down his neck, my fingers toying with the buttons on a dress shirt he grabbed at the airport. It’s pale blue and a little tight across the shoulders, and I wonder if I just pulled on that one button—
He turns off the main road, taking us down about a mile on a tiny gravel road. He throws the car in park, takes off his seat belt, cups my face, and lays one on me. Our lips cling and cling and his tongue is taking and sucking and wanting everything. My hands slide into his hair and pull on the strands as he groans.
In between kisses, he murmurs, “I want to fuck you in this car. Now. Can you please push that skirt up and get in my lap? I’m not sure how it will work, but I’m willing to see.”
“Do you have Super Dick?” I ask him with a little laugh, and he glances down at his tented jeans.
“Uh, yeah. He wants you. I want you.”
“How fast can we do this?” I’m asking as I check around us. It’s quiet out, a two-lane road, just forest and telephone lines.
“Fast, but you will come.” A squirrel darts out onto the gravel road we’re on, gives us a glare, and dashes off. “He’s the only one out here,” Z murmurs as his hand drifts under my hair. “Come on, Sugar Baby, get over here and ride me.”
I snort-laugh; I can’t help it. “Sugar Baby?” I shake my head. “You know what? I’ll take it. I kinda like it. It’s not babe, and you put my name in it.”
His lips dance across mine. “I know. You like everything I do.”
“Cocky, aren’t you?” My body leans into his as he fumbles over me and unlatches my seat belt. He throws back his seat as far as it will go and I pull my skirt up, crawl over the center console, and straddle him. It’s not easy with my heels on, and there are a few grunts and giggles before I get it right.
His hands are on my ass, pulling me against his jeans, and I murmur his name as we kiss. His hard length rubs against my panties, and I run my hands over his shoulders, through his hair, and back to his chest. He’s mine, all mine, and I never want this feeling to go away. I’ll follow him to the ends of the earth. If he goes through darkness, I’ll go with him and bring him back out every time. I tell him and he kisses me.
Rising up, I give him room to unbutton his jeans, and I laugh as he struggles to push them down a bit, just enough for his cock to pop out. I wrap my hands around him and stroke, rolling my fingers over his blunt head.
“Need you so bad,” he says. His fingers move my underwear to the side, and he gives me one, easing in and back out. “So hot. I’m going to fuck you until you can’t think and later when we find a hotel room, I’m going to do wicked things to you…”
He positions his length and eases in my entrance, barely there and then sliding back out. He strokes in again, going deep, and we groan. His pace picks up, his hands under my skirt and on my hips to hold me steady, and I lean back, arching to give him room.
I ride him and we gaze at each other, eating each other up. My fingers touch my skin, moving across my breasts to my stomach until I’m at my core, my hand brushing against him as he slides in and out.
“Sugar Baby, fuck,” he says, staring at me, his hips pumping faster, his hands digging into my hips.
His eyes gleam with heat when I touch myself, massaging my clit as I fall over the edge, my body pulsating around him. He calls out my name and tumbles over with me, his arms wrapping around me, clutching me tight as if he’ll never let me go.
* * *
“We need to go,”I say several minutes later as I still lie against him, my head buried in his neck. He’s stroking my hair, twirling it around his fingers. I know he’s probably uncomfortable with me on top of him, but he hasn’t said a word.
He tilts my jaw up with care, his fingers trailing over my cheek and to my neck. There’s a light in his eyes, and I can’t describe the feeling of true elation it gives me. His throat moves, emotion shining in his gaze as he searches my face. “I…I love you so much.”
We kiss and I tell him how much I love him.
“This might be the best day ever,” he says softly as I slide off him, adjust my underwear and skirt, and crawl back over to my side.
“Better than winning that game?”
He takes my hand and kisses it. “Sugar Baby, you’re the best game I’ve ever played.”
Later, using Google Maps, we pull into the long drive that leads to the Mitchell estate. He parks the car in front of the huge white two-story mansion, which looks straight out of Gone with the Wind.
He gets out then comes around to my side of the car and helps me down.
My feet hit the ground and he tucks my hand in the crook of his arm. We walk up the porch steps to the group of people waiting for us.
“I’m Barbara Mitchell,” says the lady in a prim black suit and pearls who greets me without even an introduction from Mr. Winchester. She’s just as tall and hawkish as I recall, a woman who’s known grief and heartache. It’s apparent in the bend of her shoulders, in the unsteady set of her mouth, the way her eyes study me and then blink, looking away. “I’m glad you came.”
I murmur a reply. It’s not a huge welcome, but then what would she say? How must she be feeling, knowing that I’m the product of an affair her husband carried out for years?
I wonder what she thinks of me—and then I stop.
What they believe is unimportant. I know who I am,and my self-worth isn’t defined by an approval rating. She doesn’t know my journey or what it’s taken to get me back here.
Two adults step forward, twins about the same age as me, a young woman and man, both raven-haired and beautiful with an air of sophistication to their demeanor. The man is tall and slim, his clothes expensive. There’s a tentative smile on his face as he takes my hand. “Name’s Beau.” His eyes are the exact color of mine…and kind. It’s hard to take in all at once. I suck in a little internal breath. He’s my half-brother. Part of my blood is his.
“I’m Bianca.” The slender girl next to him gives me a once-over and gives Z a long look. I expect a hint of jealousy because Z is Z, but there’s zilch there but deep curiosity.
I nod.
Mr. Winchester says. “We’ll get started now.”
And we do.
I walk inside a house that, as a young girl, I dreamed of burning down.
And it’s a big step.
I don’t know exactly what I’m going to say as this day goes on, but I decided to take the money my father left me. Mr. Winchester is insistent that I do, that it was my father’s last dying wish. I’m going to accept it and try not to be bitter about how he treated Mama. I guess this is his way of making up for the past. Perhaps knowing he had cancer changed him. I don’t know, but maybe these three people do.
What I do know is I’ve come full circle. I’m embracing courage and I won’t be afraid of falling anymore—with anything. I’m here to discover more about them and maybe focus on being wise, judging less, and being kind. After all, I don’t know their journey and the weight it must have been to know I was out there in the world, part of them yet not.
In the end, these three people are not my father, just innocent bystanders with a fate they couldn’t control.
Z laces his hand with mine and I know that life is right. He is right. And no matter the obstacles ahead, he’s with me.
