Sunday, July 7, 2013

Sugar Sundays: Part Three

Find Part One here:

And Two here:

And I hope everyone had a delicious weekend!



            Carolina. That was Thieving Neighbor’s name, according to the note Theresa found stuck to her door the following morning. She was invited out for a scotch tasting that evening. This was going to completely undermine her policy of declining invitations from strangers. Then again, if more of her neighbors were willing to ply her with scotch, perhaps that rule would not have been created.

            She considered the wisdom of attending such an event with an untrustworthy character such as her neighbor. Then again, it had been some time since she had gone out. Also, her entire social crowd consisted of about three people. Theresa decided to attend, but not to wear any valuable jewelry.

            And so that evening, she found herself in an Irish pub downtown. Carolina was regaling her with story after story about band life, sexual conquests (of which there were an impressive number), and her family. Theresa was charmed despite herself. It didn’t hurt that Sugar figured into a good many of her new friend’s anecdotes.

            Another entertaining thing was the tasting itself. She had attended wine events before, and taken great pleasure in making up fake snobby descriptors. Scotch aficionados, however, took tasting notes to a new level. Thus far, various malts had been described as tasting of “fruity seaweed”, “pencil shavings”, and “hospital corridor”.

            “But enough about me. What about you? I know absolutely nothing,” Carolina was saying as Theresa tuned back in.

            “Well. Not much to tell. I own a small business as a virtual assistant. I work from home. I like Earl Grey tea. I don’t like animals.”

            Carolina stared at her. “Is that your online dating profile? Good grief, girl. No wonder you don’t get out much.”

            Theresa frowned. It was true that was almost word for word her online dating profile, and she had felt it summed her up nicely. It was also true that she had yet to get a date out of it.

            “Then what do you want to know?”

            “Like what you do for fun, what are your favorite books, why you picked that job, how you like our complex, why you’re so ridiculously reserved, and who are your celebrity crushes. For starters.”

            “Um. For fun? I like my job. I work a lot. Sometimes I go out. I like live music. Uh… I run? That can be fun.” Carolina looked alarmed at her descriptions of fun, except for a brief grin at the live music mention. “I like reading biographies. The psychology of famous people is interesting. I just finished one on Marie Antoinette. That was really good. You can’t borrow it, though,” she added hastily. She wasn’t risking any more of her things. “The complex is fine. I’m reserved for the same reason I picked my job. I don’t really love interacting with people. And celebrity-wise, the obvious answer is Benedict Cumberbatch.”

            Carolina started laughing. Her laugh was slightly maniacal, something Theresa was also beginning to find endearing, although that could have been the scotch. “You need to seriously loosen up. More scotch, my good man!” she called to their server. “We are definitely hanging out more often. And I have many books you are allowed to borrow. You know, for a fellow fan of the Batch and all.”

            Sheepish, Theresa smiled back. Loosening up was something she could schedule in occasionally. She sipped from the new glass the server dropped off.

            “Chimney soot,” she proclaimed.

            “Old newspaper,” Carolina said.

            “Oil paint.”

            “Horse blankets.” Both of them collapsed into tipsy giggles.

Back at home, alone, Theresa felt marvelous. She had successfully made a new friend. And she was still floaty from the liquor and the laughter. Theresa did not laugh terribly often. She was certain her face would be sore in the morning. Buoyed by booze, she whipped out her cell and sent Sugar a text.

You can come over if you want.

Hmm. Perhaps she was lacking a few social niceties. When he hadn’t responded five minutes later, Theresa had convinced herself this was the case. And her vibrator’s batteries were dead from the recent overuse. She sighed and started to get ready for bed. She was brushing her teeth in her silk camisole and panties when she heard the quiet knock on her front door. Toothbrush still in hand, she peeked through the peephole to see Sugar standing on her porch.

She opened the door and he almost pushed her over getting in.

“Sorry, sorry. Didn’t want my sister to see.”

Theresa had nearly forgotten how tall he was. She rose onto her tiptoes to look into those shockingly green eyes and just like that he was kissing her. His lips were so soft, but the pressure was intense. His tongue ran over her mouth gently until she let it touch hers. She kissed him back hard and knew she was in trouble. Because tongues that could do that could also do all sorts of other wicked things.

Several minutes later, they came up for air. Sugar’s arms were wrapped around her. She leaned her head on his shoulder as she tried to shake the dizziness his kisses had inspired. She took a deep breath and smelled his faint scent of juniper, vanilla, and pot. It was nice. Very nice. She licked his neck. He used those magnificent arms to pick her up entirely. She clenched her legs around his waist. "I want you so bad," he whispered in her ear, and then started nibbling on it. She could tell how bad, could feel it through the thin fabric of her underwear.

He carried her to the couch, lowered her until he was on top, pinning Theresa’s arms down as they kissed. Their hips rocked together. He released one arm to slide his hand down to her breasts. “God, you are so soft,” he murmured in her ear as he gently rubbed her nipple through the silk of her shirt. Theresa, as a general rule, did not speak during sex, so she stayed silent. His hand trailed down her stomach and slid underneath the elastic of her panties. He stroked her gently, slipping one finger into her wetness. "I want to watch myself moving in and out of you. I want to look you in the eyes when I make you come," he said. And Theresa, who wasn’t into dirty talk, found herself so turned on that she came right then.

Sugar waited until her trembling had subsided before he touched her gently and softly again. When she moaned, he fisted the fabric of her underwear and ripped it off. While she was still stunned and blinking from the sheer manliness of the act, he pulled off his jeans and boxer-briefs. He produced a condom from somewhere and rolled it on.

He just barely entered her, and then pulled it out to slide up and down. Eventually, Theresa couldn’t take it anymore. She tried to pull him deeper, but he pulled back. “Not until you beg,” he whispered gruffly. She considered.

“Please?” That was all it took to break his self-control and he slammed into her. She grabbed a handful of his hair, he gripped her waist so hard she knew she’d have bruises the next day. It didn’t take long until she could feel another climax building. He moved up to sit back on his heels and watch as he thrust against her. The look of raw hunger on his face put her over the edge. As the orgasm ripped through her body, he bared his teeth, growled, and came with her.

He collapsed on top of her. "That was... wow. That was amazing," Sugar finally said when their breathing began to slow.

“Mm hmm,” Theresa agreed. They kissed slowly, tongues dancing together, for several minutes before he slid out of her.

“I told myself I wasn’t going to do that. At least, I was going to take you out first.” He said as he pulled his jeans back on. Theresa just smiled. Ouch. Her face wasn’t the only sore spot she’d have in the morning.

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