“Let’s go,” August interrupts, gripping my hand so tight it almost hurts.
“No. We came for ice cream,” I say, pulling my hand free. “He’ll have the bacon.”
“I don’t want the bacon ice cream.”
“I’ll have the popcorn,” I say to the stranger who’s serving us, who also seems to be annoying August.
“I’d like a chance to talk to you,” he says, scooping my ice cream. He hands it to me, then looks at August. “August.”
“I’ll have the same as her…”
“My name is Sully,” the stranger tells me.
“It’s nice to meet you.”
“I went to school with you, well… I was in August’s year.”
“Oh, yes, you do look familiar.” I turn to August. “You don’t talk much anymore?”
“No,” August replies quickly.
“I’ve tried, but he won’t have it. I’m surprised to see you two together.” Sully raises his eyebrow at us.
“We should eat, so I can go home.”
I nod at August’s words and move over to a small table where we sit.
“He was your friend?” I ask, peering to where Sully is still standing behind the counter. He keeps glancing in our direction.
“Was. I told you those close to me either use me or leave. It’s always one or the other.”
“Maybe you haven’t let the right person in yet.”
“Is that an invitation, rich girl?”
“I’ve been throwing invitations at you, left, right, and center, that you never take,” I say, scooping a spoonful of ice cream. He does the same, places it in his mouth then scrunches up his nose. The bowl is then slid over to me.
“I’ve taken a few. I seem to remember how you taste and feel.”
“Remembering how you feel is a favorite of mine, too.” I wink.
“August.” We both turn to Sully who’s standing there, hat in his hand. “I’d really like to talk. I haven’t worked with Josh since you went away.”
“I’m busy with my girl, Sully. Fuck off.”
Well, well, well, my cheeks flush at his words.
His girl.
Turning to me, Sully says, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your night.” He shakes his head and walks away.
“He was trying,” I say.
“And now we’re leaving. You coming back to mine or going to yours?”
“Am I allowed at yours?” I ask, standing. I offer a small wave to Sully as we leave. When we get outside, I slide into the car and August follows.
“Do you know what usually happens to people like me?” he asks, gazing out the window to where his friend, or not friend, is currently standing. “We do bad things. We kill. We end up in prison. People like me don’t have a future, rich girl. When will you see that?”
“How would you know? You aren’t like most people, August. Stop putting yourself down or in those categories.” I drive off, but I can feel him staring at me.
“I’m unsure if you’re remarkable or just plain stupid,” he finally says.
“I’d go with the first one, thanks,” I tell him, smiling as I drive to his house.
“I guess only time will tell.”
He pushes me against the wall, his hands finding every curve of my body. We didn’t talk again, even as we got out of the car at his house, but the minute the door shut behind me, his hands were all over me. Grabbing me in places I only give him access, roaming my body as if I am the last thing his hands will ever touch.
But he does it with such tenderness and roughness all mixed into one.
When his hands touch me, I become lightheaded, and all my mind thinks about is him.
As his forest-green eyes lock onto mine before his lips devour me, I melt.
It’s then I know I’ll do almost anything he wants.
I was that girl once.
I don’t think I’ll be that girl again.
But for some reason, this doesn’t feel the same. Anderson had his own issues. Issues that don’t involve me, but somehow, I became the center of them.
With August, he’s never tried to control me. Instead, he tells me to go away at every turn. The more he pushes me away, though, the more I want to be next to him.
My hands reach out for him with the same need his hands touch me with.
August is different. I haven’t experienced a force like him before.
August monopolizes my thoughts, stealing them as a thief steals jewelry in the night.
And I’ll never complain.
The first time I saw August, I remember thinking he was beautiful. Even with all his rough edges.
The second time I saw him, I watched him from afar, hypnotized by the way he moved and talked but never smiled.
His demeanor was soured by the past.
His behavior distorted by everything life had thrown at him.
“Rich girl.” August pulls me out of my thoughts of him. He leans back just a little to see if I’m still here, still in this, and when I reach for him again, he has his answer. August lifts me, and I wrap my legs around his waist.
Sex. It might be all he’s willing to give, but I am willing to take it.
Sex with August is my favorite thing.
His hands, rough from work, feel good against my naked skin, especially when they drag up and down my body.
“Rich girl,” he says as I bite down on his neck.
“I have a name,” I tell him, pulling back.
“Yes, you do,” he says with a smirk, his hand reaching between us so he can touch me. His hand slides up my skirt, and he pushes my panties out of the way so his finger can enter me.
“You can say it,” I tell him breathlessly. I’ve only heard him say my name once.
August’s fingers stop moving. “Do you want to fuck or have a conversation about your name?”
“Both.” I smile, my hands stay around his neck.
“Rich girl,” he says with a shake of the head. He places me down and leaves me standing there. I watch, shocked, as he walks away to the kitchen. I pull my shirt off, followed by my skirt as quickly as I can. I’m left in only my heels as I step up behind him. He’s in the refrigerator reaching for a drink when I move my hands around him and capture his hard cock through his pants.
“August,” I say, making him turn, and when he does, his eyes eat every part of me.
“I’m thirsty,” he says with hooded eyes. I retreat from him until my back hits the counter, then I climb on top and lie back, lifting my head and opening my legs.
“I am, too.”
He steps closer. At first, I think he’s going to drop the bottle, but he uses it instead, letting the coldness run up my leg until it reaches my middle, then he pauses, pulling it away and opening it. I watch him do it all because he’s quite simply fascinating.
The liquid spills on my belly, and he watches it flow along my skin before his mouth comes down and starts licking it off me. When he has licked it all up, he moves the bottle and the liquid pours out over my vagina.
Then he doesn’t miss a beat, bending down to lick, taste, and play.
Soon, though, the bottle is forgotten, and his hands are on either side of my legs, pushing them as far open as they will go while his mouth works circles on my clit. I start humping his face, my hands find his hair, but he never stops. He drinks me in like I’m the liquid in the water bottle. He takes pleasure in tasting me as if I am his favorite four-course meal. And when he inserts a finger and flicks upward, I’m done for.