Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

LEMON

I drive to work with Sugar on the phone. It’s one of my favorite ways to wake up. I enjoy being close to my sister. One out of three siblings is better than none, right?

“Did you hear about Saff yet?” she asks.

“What now?”

“She’s set a date for her wedding. November 11th.” I hum. I will not be in attendance. “Which of course has Steak pissed off.”

“Why?” I ask.

“That’s the day after he and Becca were going to get married. He thinks Saff is being inconsiderate when he’s already going to be going through a hard time.”

Okay so, here’s the scoop. Sugar is the oldest. Then there’s me, our next sister Saffron, and then our baby brother, Basil, though we call him Steak. By the time he was born, me and Sugar thought our parents were fucking weird naming us after food. We teased that he should be a protein, but they went with an herb instead.

We refused to call him Basil, though. At first, we tried Salmon, but it made us giggle every single time. After a few more failed attempts, we landed on Steak.

I’d like to say my parents are hippies, and I do when I have to explain our names to people, but really, Sugar and I are the seventies kids. Our parents were born in the early fifties. Though I suppose they could definitely be hippies, since they were having us in the seventies. A little too much drugs, if you ask me.

Sugar always joked that she was going to name her kids after dog breeds. Come here, Dalmatian. Shih Tzu, get off your brother. Pomeranian and Poodle, stop egging him on.

The hours we’ve spent laughing over this are far too much.

If Sugar was taking dog breeds, I was taking sea creatures. My favorites were Sea Cucumber, Sponge, Lobster, and Fish. As ridiculous and amusing as it was insulting. Those poor kids.

Steak even got on board and decided his kids were all going to be named after car parts. He was starting with Muffler and ending with Catalytic Converter. He considered hyphenating it so that everyone was aware it was indeed their first name. Personally, my favorite was Spark Plug.

Saffron was the wet napkin, though. She was having Sarah, Peter, Richard, and Mary. Everything as mundane as possible, which in its own way was still a rebellion from being named after food.

Sugar is the only one who has a kid, thus far. My niece’s name is Oria. But we call her Fish. Just for fun.

“I agree with Steak. That’s inconsiderate, though I’m not the least bit surprised,” I admit.

Last year, Steak was going to get married on November 10 th to his longtime girlfriend, Becca. Becca died three weeks before their wedding date in a car accident. He’s doing better now, but he’s not the same kid he used to be.

“I agree,” Sugar says. “I kind of want to sit out in solidarity with Steak.”

“Is he not going?”

“He says he’s not. Which only upsets Mom because she wants to support Saff and make sure Saff has her special day, which means all of her kids should be there to support their sister.” I can hear her roll her eyes. It’s loud.

“And she sees nothing wrong with the date?”

“You know Mom. She’s neutral at best. Secretly, I think she agrees with Steak, but she’s not going to say anything to upset Saff.”

“Spoiled princess,” I mutter, shaking my head.

I know what people think about me. They think I’m spoiled. But seriously, who’s spoiling me? I’m single and have been for eons. Obviously there’s no one at home spoiling me. I have to spoil myself.

However, if anyone ever wants to see what spoiled looks like, I’ll present to them Saffron Frost. She is the poster child for spoiled.

“I’m not going,” I say, shrugging. “I haven’t even heard about it from Saffron yet and it’s less than two months away! What’s the big deal? Ohhhh. Is she preggo?”

“That’s what I think too!” Sugar exclaims. “I haven’t asked. I haven’t actually talked to Saff. Only Steak. But I asked him and he thinks so too. He’s also convinced that she chose the date on purpose.”

The sad part is, it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if that was the case. Saffron is just that selfish and self-centered. November 10 th is always going to be a super sad day for Steak. Leave it to Saff to make that time of year all about her.

I pull into the parking lot and lean back when the car is in park as I watch other staff members pull in. “I’m going to call her kid Rung,” I say. “Just another rung on the ladder to her stealing as much attention as possible.”

Sugar cackles. “Ohmigod, please do! And don’t tell her, Lem. Let Saff drive herself crazy trying to figure it out and crying to Mom that you’re picking on her.”

“It’s all about her, after all,” I agree.

I’m distracted from my sister’s response when the sound of a motorcycle catches my attention. When it pulls into the staff parking lot, I sit up and watch, transfixed, as they park. The engine dies.

Pushing open the door, I stand so I can get an unobstructed look as they kick out the stand and rest the bike. They swing their leg over and unbuckle their helmet. Lifting it off their head and shaking out their hair, I’m immediately annoyed that this mystery person is Hansley.

I mean, of course it is. Of course he’s on my dream date vehicle. Ugh. Why does he have to be so fucking hot? I hate it so much.

He opens the saddle and pulls out his bag that he slings on his back. With his helmet under his arm, he turns for the arena. Grudgingly, I lean against my car to watch him.

Then there’s fucking Alka, waving at him, and Hansley alters his direction. I hate how he gives Alka a big smile. I’ve never seen that smile. Why won’t he smile at me like that? It’s bullshit.

As he gets closer to Alka, the more sour my stomach becomes. There’s a burning sensation in my chest and my stomach hardens. I’m clenching my teeth as I watch and little specs cloud my vision.

Before I know what I’m doing, I push off the car and slam the door shut. “Sugar, I’m going to have to call you back.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“I think I’m about to make a big mistake,” I tell her and then hang up. Stuffing my phone in my pocket, I head for them, keeping my eyes locked on Hansley.

As I approach, I hear him laugh. The sound sends chills down my spine. It’s a nice sound. A hot sound. I love everything about that sound except that it’s for Alka.

“Bardot,” I say as I stop beside them. They’re both a head taller than me. Normally I don’t care at all that I’m considered short, but right now, I wish I’d worn heels or something.

Hansley looks at me warily and I hate it. He should not be looking at me like that!

“Morning, Lemon,” he says, and I can hear the caution in his voice. Stupid. I hate that it’s there.

“We need to talk,” I insist and grip his wrist to pull him away. I glare at Alka. “Alone.”

Alka raises his hands and meets Hansley’s eyes. I quickly turn Hansley around so he can’t look at Alka at all. The only problem is, my office is in the same direction that Alka’s going. I can bring us into the side door, I guess.

Because I have few choices, that’s where I change our direction to head.

“What’s up, Lemon?” Hansley asks.

“Not out here,” I say. “This is a private conversation.”

He sighs and I feel frustration move through me. He shouldn’t sound annoyed with me! I deserve all the beautiful smiles and laughter more than Alka does. He always steals the best guys! I swear, that man turns them away from me on purpose.

Hansley doesn’t ask again as I lead him to the building and push open the door. I hesitate a moment when he holds the door open for me, unsure what I’m supposed to do. I glance at him before ducking my head and leading him down the halls until we get to my office.

As soon as we’re inside, I close the door and flick the lock. I didn’t bring anything with me. Nothing at all. I left it all in my car, which means making another trip to the parking lot, but when I’m stuck staring at Hansley Bardot, I realize I need to say something now. Now isn’t the time to regret not taking everything with me.

He watches me expectantly. Warily. With all sorts of guards up. But… does he feel the heat too? I’m sure he does. I’m not imagining that bit of anticipation in his eyes, right?

My breaths feel stuttered, and I have no idea what I’m doing. I literally have zero reason to have brought him here except that I wanted to get him away from Alka. Stupid fucking Alka.

It was dumb. A very poor decision. But I grip his shirt and pull him to me, bringing his mouth to mine. His body presses against me as his mouth locks with mine and I’m pinned between his body and the door.

A thrill runs through me when his kiss is just as hungry and urgent as mine is. For a minute, I focus on his hands. I want to see where they go. One is on my hip, squeezing it. The other is on my stomach, his fingers brushing against my bare skin.

His body moves closer, which means I’m on my toes to reach his mouth. The hand on my stomach drops to my hip, my thigh, then under my ass where he cups me and lifts my feet from the ground.

I’m surprised, and it makes me moan as he presses against me. Especially when I feel his cock. I bet he has a nice cock. Will he let me touch it?

My hands move over his chest and down to his shirt. First, I need to feel what’s under his shirt. I’m not disappointed when I find abs for days and some enormous chesticles. Fuck, they’re so hot. So damn hot that my hips rut against him.

Hansley bites my lip, sucks on my tongue, devours me. Though I’d love to fondle his chest for days, I drop my hands to his pants and shove my hand in.

He grunts. Inhales sharply. I pause for just a second to give him time to push me away. He doesn’t, so I drop my hand and grip his dick through his underwear.

The groan in my mouth might be his, or it could very well be mine. I swallow it anyway. Hansley presses me harder against the wall, trapping my hand between our bodies. That doesn’t stop me from touching him. Running my hand down his length and cupping his balls.

I need more. Pushing him back a little, he misreads what I want and tries to pull away, but with my hand gripping his dick and my teeth biting into his bottom lip, I keep him close while I shove his pants down.

He leans down, kissing me hotly, grunting into my mouth when I free his dick. Without looking, I touch him. Learn him. Feel the loose skin around his cockhead and nearly come undone.

“Touch me,” I demand.

He’s hesitant, but he does. One big hand cups my crotch over my pants. He squeezes gently, then a little more confidently.

“I want to fuck into your foreskin,” I tell him.

Hansley shudders. I’m elated when he nods.

“Push my pants down. Touch my cock,” I demand.

His lips hover over mine, mouth open, eyes slightly open. Though, I don’t think he’s really seeing me. He fumbles with my pants before letting them fall to my ankles. Keeping one hand around his cock, I press my back more firmly into the door so we can see between us as he frees me. The pads of his fingers are rough. Calloused. I should show him what a proper lotion regime can do to fix that.

But not right now. I enjoy the coarse touch.

I spit between us, making sure that it lands on his exposed dickhead. I doubt I need much lubricant since he’s leaking. Something that sends a thrill through me. As soon as I’m sure that he’s wet for me, I line up our dicks and carefully push our heads together, bringing his foreskin around my cock too.

Hansley gasps, his hands on my hips. Gripping me hard. He’s going to leave bruises, but I’m too distracted by the sensation to care. He feels so good. Thick and hardening as I brush our cockheads together under his loose foreskin. This works better when he’s not nearly as hard. I can go deeper then.

Or so I’ve been told. This is the first time I’ve had the pleasure of doing it. Even with uncut guys in the past, I haven’t expressed interest. It was a minor curiosity then.

But now, I want to be a part of his body.

“Kiss me,” I hiss as I jerk us a little harder.

He does, a hand moving to the back of my neck as he holds me tightly. His hips rock. His kiss burns through me, turning my blood to fire, and I groan loudly.

We need to do this right. Next time. Another time. I want to feel his skin like this another time. Pulling away, I feel smug when he protests with a grunt. But I drop to my knees and bring his dick into my mouth before he can speak.

His inhale is loud. I look up, meeting his dark eyes as I suck him down. Hansley’s swollen lips remain parted. His cheeks are pink. His breathing is labored. Is this what this man looks like moving around the ice? Maybe hockey can be sexy.

I show him just what I can do with my mouth and hand. His grip doesn’t loosen on the back of my neck, even as the angle’s changed. So good. So good.

“I’m gonna—” he chokes out a moment before he fills my mouth.

Instead of backing off, I swallow him deeper to catch every drip of his load. He groans, low and deep. “Fuck,” he grunts.

Then he’s done, and I’m gripping my cock in my fist as he backs away. Dropping my eyes, I think, What just happened here? What did I do?!

“You should go,” I whisper, breathless.

He’s panting. I can hear him even though I refuse to look up. “Lemon—” he says, but I shake my head furiously.

“You need to go. We have to work.”

There’s a moment when he doesn’t move. My cheeks heat when he puts his cock away and straightens himself out. I’m not sure when he dropped his bag and helmet, but he retrieves them as I slip sideways so I’m no longer in front of the door.

He pauses again, and I’m sure he’s staring at me. I let my head hang a little further so he can’t see my face. My makeup is probably hella fucked right now.

The click of the lock sounds loud, making me flinch, and he’s out the door, then it clicks shut almost silently behind him.

That shouldn’t have happened. What’s wrong with me? Why do I do stupid things?

Why can’t I think of anything else but the next time?!

Face scrunching, I get to my feet and lock my door again before heading to my bathroom to finish my issue and pretend I have my shit together. Maybe the biggest lie I tell myself is that this won’t happen again.