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My chest is right in his face in this position, and he sucks one nipple into his mouth while tweaking the other between his calloused fingers. The soft heat of his tongue on one side and the rough scratch on the other have my brain spinning. His hips rise to meet every downward thrust of my own.
“Give it to me, Lacy.” That growl thing he does when he’s trying so hard to hold himself back from coming does me in for the fourth time. Well, that and his cock hammering into my G-spot over and over while my clit rubs against the base of him. “There it is, my beauty.”
I go limp with the force of the pleasure being pulled from me. Scott takes over, hands planted on my hips, moving me up and down on his pulsing cock until he’s totally satisfied.
Sweating and grinning like idiots, we curl together on the couch, a throw blanket tossed over our cooling flesh. “If that’s how I get welcomed every time I leave and come back home, I’m going to have to make more trips.”
He pinches my side, right at the ticklish spot he’d discovered last week. “Don’t even think about it. This place feels empty when you aren’t stomping around, huffing about how our appliances are conspiring against your cooking skills or the hot water doesn’t stay hot enough for the hour you need to spend in the shower doing god knows what since you won’t let me join you in there.”
A sigh slips through my lips, and I snuggle deeper into his side. When we got to this place where we act like a newlywed couple, I’ll never know. Nor do I remember when I started referring to the apartment in a warehouse I used to hate as my home. It might have been sometime after Scott made me an office right after the fight about my money, or his career, or I don’t even remember what that fight was really about.
That was almost a month ago, and the next day, I woke up to him painting the spare bedroom a sparkly gold on one wall and beautiful cream on all the others. Apparently, he’d stalked my social media after I passed out that night and found some of the dream rooms I pinned. It turned out perfect and beautiful.
He even managed to get a can of spray paint in my hand, and together, we refurbished an old desk he found in the warehousebasement. The huge wooden thing is now bright pink with a slight gold sheen to it. I didn’t even mind getting my hands a little dirty. Bonus, it is the perfect height for him to bend me over and flip-up whatever minuscule dress I’m wearing at the time to spank the sass out of me.
These past few weeks have shown me that I never really had a home. Just holding places until I was shuffled to the next holding place. In less than a month, Scott has managed to give me the things I’ve craved and missed out on my entire life.
Affection.
Stability.
Honesty.
“So where were you today anyway?” His fingers trace up and down my arm, across my collarbone, and back down. Never before has someone wanted to touch me in the intimate ways that have nothing to do with sex. He got his rocks off. He should be racing for the door. But he loves the after stuff as much as I do.
Excitement surges in my veins, and I spin around to land on my knees on the cushion beside him. “Oh my Gosh, have you ever explored this neighborhood? It is like a wealth of untapped talent!” I bounce a little since there is nowhere else for my enthusiasm to go, and Scott gets a little distracted by my jiggling boobs. But soon enough, he shakes his head and focuses back in on what I’m saying.
“I went to that cute boutique four buildings down, and this girl is a-mazing. She does all her own fabric printing, designs the clothes, and sews them all by hand. She’s way underpricing her stuff, so I’ve been helping her with marketing and business stuff in exchange for free clothes.”
“I wondered where all these dresses have been coming from.” Scott picks up the pink and gold patterned column dress from the arm of the couch where it landed earlier.
“Yup, they’ve all been coming from Syn Sations. That’s both her name and the boutique. Today, she brought some of her designer friends in to meet me. They were all so cool. Never once mentioned my fall from grace. Loved hearing about my ideas for getting their names out there. Some are even interested in a partnership with me. Obviously, I can’t do anything like that until the mess with my accounts gets straightened out. But how awesome is that? I haven’t been this excited about something since, maybe ever.”
I’ve found a niche market more exhilarating than anything I’ve done before, but my circumstances are holding me back from helping as much as I want to. After weeks of no return calls despite leaving dozens upon dozens of messages for Agent Rose, I had kinda just given up. Life with Scott is good, and I don’t need as much stuff as I once thought I did. But, I might need to revisit trying to get my money back, so I can do more with my new project. Scott makes enough to support us, but not enough to launch several fashion careers from scratch.
I pause, sucking in a deep breath to replenish the oxygen I spent rambling on. Scott’s grin is wide, and his eyes sparkle. This whole talking about something you love and having someone actually listen is weird.
And cool.
“You know, I could do the same things for you. Get your music career off the ground. I know you make enough in studio work to have this place, but you could do so much more. Your voice and music are beautiful. More people should hear them.”
Just like every other time I bring something up about his music, Scott stands up and turns his back to me. This time he walks, butt naked I might add, which is very distracting, over to the kitchen and grabs two bottles of water from the fridge.
The sigh slips through my lips before I can stop it. But I refuse to pout. He thinks my pout is sexy, and it always ends with us screwing our brains out again.
“Seriously, why won’t you let me help?” I stand after him, stomping my foot and slapping my hands down onto my bare thighs.
“Drop it, Lacy. My career is mine, and I’ll take care of it.”
Tears sting behind my eyes. He’s done so much for me. Rescued me from being raped in an alley. Took me in when I was homeless, penniless, and friendless. He puts up with all my shit and even says he likes me just as I am. That I don’t need to change for him. I want to give him something back. One fifteen-second video of him singing on my Instagram would have him world-famous in hours. Even now when I’m keeping a fairly low profile because of everything with my dad.
But I do as he asks and drop it. I don’t want to fight again. Not a real fight anyway. I like our fake I’m a spoiled brat and he needs to spank me for being bad fights. Those are awesome. Real fights make my stomach knot and my headache.
Not wanting him to see how much his words sting, I grab my dress and walk, not stomp, toward the stairs. “Fine, let your talent wither away with the only people hearing being me and the walls. It’s not like you’re hot enough for world fame anyway.”
That’s a lie.
Once you strip all the black T-shirts and too stiff jeans from him, Scott is hot as fuck. His brown hair has gained some blonde streaks from working on the balcony addition the past week. The muscles lining his frame are big without being ridiculous, and his hazel eyes show every emotion that flits through his head. I’m even starting to like the stupid beard.
