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July 1, 2017

During the second night of their vacation, Sugar and Chef play with the boundaries of pretending. 

Music Mood: Brave by Jhene Aiko




Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


 

As Sugar smoothed her hands along her curvaceous frame, she turned sideways and cocked her head as she gazed at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She wore a soft rosy pink off-shoulder bandage dress adorned with sided slits along her curves therefore showing off lots of skin and a midriff cutout styled in a crisscross fashion that showed off even more skin. She wore pink cotton candy-hued high heels. The outfit that she decided to wear for a girls’ night of clubbing was the most risqué one in her wardrobe, but the dress was a birthday gift from Rochelle and the fuck-me-pumps were a birthday gift from Helena. The old Sugar would have never worn something so saucy, but the new Sugar was slowly and surely becoming more and more willing to trying new things.

Knuckles rapped on the door softly from the other side. She directed her attention accordingly and arched a delicate eyebrow at the sound.

“You’ve been in there a mighty long time and I’m startin’ to get a little impatient,” Chef spoke with a smooth playful tongue and a grin hiding in between his words.

She rolled her eyes, unable to fight back the smile that spread across her lips like wildfire. She sauntered over to the bathroom door and opened it with a twist of a doorknob, greeted by the sight of Chef leaning against the doorframe. The moment she revealed herself to him, his gray eyes took their time scanning her from head to toe and back again then once more for a third time.

“Didn’t you ever learn as a child that patience is a virtue,” she asked, cocking an eyebrow once more.

“I might’ve been sick that particular school day,” he returned as he pried himself off the doorframe and reached out, curling his tattooed arm around her waist and tugging her to him, “but this time around I’d think I’d be a quick learner with the right teacher.”

He inclined his head while his eyes twinkled with the kind of mischief that made her clit tingle as she drunk it in. “And what does being the right teacher entail, Mister Thibodeau?”

“Blindfold, handcuffs, your panties stuffed in my mouth,” he listed in a low husky voice against her ear.

Her eyelids fluttered shut as those eight words were the fuel needed to spark her wild imagination. She pictured him so clearly in the depths of her mind, lying across the bed with his hands restrained with two sets of handcuffs secured to the bedframe. Stretched out and waiting for her in anticipation with blindfolded eyes and a pair of her panties tucked in his mouth to muffle him while she did whatever she wanted to. Use him however she wanted him. Take, take, take from him just like he wanted.

“That sounds,” she spoke softly, clearing her throat, “interesting.”

A dark chuckle rumbled deep in his throat. “We need to broaden your vocabulary, darlin’.”

“So, you want to play teacher next, huh? Are you planning on giving me a vocabulary test while you’re teaching me,” she asked teasingly.

“If I’m teachin’ you, sweetheart, the only vocabulary I want comin’ out your mouth is ‘don’t stop’, ‘harder’, ‘faster’, and my name when you cream all over my—”

Knock, knock, knock.

“You who? Anyone home,” Odette queried in a sing-song voice.

Sugar let out a shaky breath she didn’t even know she was holding in and answered back, “I’ll be out in just a minute.”

Then she cut her eyes back to him.

“Time to get the show on the road. I suppose you’ll have to continue this lecture another time, professor,” she bantered.

“Not just yet,” Chef replied. “I’ve got another lecture for you.”

Sugar cocked her head and uttered curiously, “Oh?”

He used his spare to take a care hold of her chin, steadying it so she had no choice but to look him dead in the eye. “I don’t give a damn about what fella you dancin’ against on the dancefloor or what Casanova you acceptin’ drinks from at the bar, but I do give a damn about one thing and one thing only, Sugar Magnolia Wallace. On June 12, 2017, you made a promise to me I fully expect you to keep. You promised me that you’d be mine all this weekend and I’ll uphold my promise just the same.”

His thumb gently stroked the space just underneath her bottom lip, which was a complete contrast to the hardened seriousness that was nailed to his handsome face.

An unfiltered thought suddenly passed her lips as uttered words before she could even stop herself. “We agreed to just pretend.”

“I take pretendin’ very seriously,” he countered.

That was what she had been afraid of. Their pretending now felt like a practicing exercise to prepare them for the next level of their thing that shouldn’t have a next level at all. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She had dug herself deep into a hole, but she didn’t want to leave it. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all.

She needed to reestablish boundaries and rules. She needed to draw a line in the sand to remind Miles Thibodeau that underneath this game of pretending was the truth of where they both stood in the order of things.

Adventure. Uncommitted. No-strings attached fun. Adventure. Uncommitted. No-strings attached fun. Adventure. Uncommitted. No-strings attached fun. Adventure. Uncommitted. No-strings attached fun.

Her rules were a steady mantra inside of her head, taking her back to the roots of what this thing was supposed to be. What it had to be.

This was for the best.

Chef didn’t know it yet, but it was true.

She manually uncurled his arm from her waist and cleared her throat, her physical retreat of using backward steps towards the bedroom door was like a symbolic punch to his gut. She shouldn’t have doubted him for a single moment to not be able to recognize the moment for what it was.

“Duly noted,” she assured as she walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Severing whatever blossoming attempt at something more.

If they were going to pretend then it would be only that.

Nothing more, nothing less.

At least, that was what she wanted to believe.

{}{}{}

There was a nagging sensation deep inside of Sugar that kept insisting that she was living a lie. It hadn’t been there before, but on the car ride over to the club, it suddenly appeared as a tight burning feeling deep in her chest where her heart was. She tried to ignore it. She tried to bob her head, smile, and dance to the Kendrick Lamar jam all everyone in the car spouted out word for word with perfection, but she felt drained…and an emotion she knew quite well: guilt.

She hated that feeling. She spent the last few years of her marriage to Lance becoming well-acquainted with that feeling, which she shouldn’t have.

She wanted to apply that same logic now.

She shouldn’t have felt guilty for how things played out with Chef back at the beach house. She hadn’t said anything wrong. She didn’t do anything wrong. He knew exactly what he was getting himself into when he agreed to her conditions.

And yet…

Fuck.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, rooting herself back to the present. When her eyelids slid back open, she was greeted with the sight of Katrina and Rochelle talking and laughing loudly over the loud pulsing music of the club. Reid, Odette, and Taffy had disappeared into the swaying crowd of folks on the dance floor while Helena had sashayed herself over to the bar to drink away her sorrows.

That sounded like a perfect remedy.

She removed herself from the booth and went over to the bar. Helena was sipping on something and chatting with a pair of dudes at the bar while her body moved casually to the music before she caught sight of Sugar. Helena’s eyes widened in excitement and used her empty hand to wave her over.

“Hey, Shug! Come meet my new friends,” Helena greeted in an already un-sober tone and kissed her on both cheeks when she arrived.

“Josiah, Adam,” Helena introduced in a chipper slur, pointing to each man, “this is my guuuuuuurrrrrl, Shug. Ain’t she absolutely goooooorgeous, ya’ll?”

The two black men were fine as hell. Both were the mere definition of tall, dark, and handsome, but Adam had a striking resemblance to a younger kinder Lance. She stared at him a few moments too long.

“Gorgeous is an understatement,” Adam replied, a charming smile fixed on his mouth as he eyed her like she was one of her sugary creations.

She cleared her throat and said, “Nice to meet you both.”

“I’d love to buy you a drink,” Adam offered boldly.

Sugar opened her mouth to speak, but Helena budded in with a bright smile, “She’d love one! She’ll take two Cumshots.”

Sugar’s eyes widened in shock and she snapped her head over to Helena at the mention of cumshots.

Adam inclined his head, his smile widening. “Two cumshots for the lovely lady.”

The words rolled off his tongue smoothly like a promise he wanted to make good on by the end of the night. He motioned for one of the three bartenders manning the counter and placed the order. Soon enough, the bartender passed over two shotglasses filled with a creamy beige-colored concoction topped with tiny swirl of whip cream. Adam offered her one of them.

Hesitantly, she took it.

She brought it to her lips for a curious sip, but Helena shook her head vigorously. “No, no, no, sis. You gotta toss it back and not waste a single drop unless you’re the kind of gal to spit, of course,” Helena said teasingly with a wink, which earned her a few laughs from Adam.

In one fell swoop, she downed the shot. It was thick, sweet, and slid down her throat in a nice burn. Its name didn’t do it any justice and if it wasn’t for the fact that its name was raunchy as hell, the drink had what it took to make a spot on her restaurant’s alcoholic drink menu.

“Atta girl,” Helena cheered. “You ready for the next one?”

She tossed back the next one effortlessly.

“Would you like another one,” Adam questioned.

“Sure, why not,” she said.

Once Sugar was gifted with another Cumshot, Helena lifted her drink in the air for a toast. “To all the swallowers!”

“Cheers to that,” Josiah agreed with a hearty chuckle and raising his drink in salute with Adam following suit.

Then they emptied the contents of their glasses down their throats. Eventually, she graduated from the soft-hitting Cumshots to liquor with a nastier punch with Helena has her cheerleader. The alcohol loosened her lips. She chattered with the three of them, sharing hilarious stories from her past and listening and laughing to theirs. God, how she laughed. It just bubbled out of her like sweet fizzy champagne uncorked. She couldn’t stop it. Neither could Helena. Sometimes, they held onto each other, giggling and laughing madly like schoolgirls.

Adam and Josiah ate it all up.

“Come on, girl. Let’s see if you can move your body as good as you move that mouth of yours,” Josiah challenged with a sexy smirk, jerking his head towards the dance floor. At his beckoning challenge, Helena drained her cranberry and vodka and abandoned the glass at the bar counter and she grabbed a hold of his hand and lead him to dance floor to show him all she had to offer.

Josiah’s barstool was free for the taking and Adam offered it to her. “Your throne awaits, milady.”

She accepted his offer by accepting his hand as he helped her onto the barstool. He took advantage of having her hand in his hand and kissed the back of it, his eyes never leaving her face.

“I want to know more about you, Sugar Wallace,” Adam replied.

The moment sobered her up a little. “My life isn’t interesting by any means.”

“I doubt that,” he said. “I bet it’s very interesting. So, do you have someone interesting in your life?”

She drew invisible circles on the bar counter, her mind wondering to all that transpired between her and Chef. “It’s,” she paused, trying to search for the right word, “complicated.”

“Must be ‘cause no man in his right mind would let a woman like you walk out of the house dressed like that and not protecting you at this club like a guard dog,” Adam said.

Sugar shook her head, laughing softly. “You’re giving me more credit than I deserve.”

“And you’re not giving yourself enough credit. You absolutely fucking ravishing, Sugar Wallace, and you’ve got a lot of admirers that have noticed,” Adam said, gesturing her to look around the club and she obliged. It didn’t take long for her to notice the heated glances and steady stares of male clubgoers directed at her.

“You’ve got a very good eye,” Sugar teased bashfully, returning her gaze back to him.

Adam cocked his head. “Or maybe you don’t think you’re worthy enough for the attention, so you don’t bother to notice.”

That was because she wasn’t worthy.

Broken things weren’t worthy of any attention and that was what she was.

Very, very, very broken.

Sugar opened her mouth to speak, but a drunk Helena and a hyped Josiah made their way back.

“That was quick,” Sugar said.

“It didn’t take much to prove him wrong,” Helena slurred happily before she swirled to face Josiah, slung her arms around his neck, and kissed him roughly.

Helena was spiraling.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Sugar slipped off the barstool and grabbed Helena’s arm, tugging her away from Josiah thereby severing their passionate carefree make-out session in a goddamn club.

Whaaaat,” Helena whined.

“Come on. I need to use the restroom.”

“Whatchu want me to do, chick? Help you wipe?”

Sugar smiled sweetly at the two men and said, “We’ll be right back.”

Journeying across the club, she dragged Helena into a crowded women’s restroom. The sound of running sinks, chattering, flushing toilets, the opening and closing of stall doors, and the clicking of high heels filled the air.

Helena snatched her hand away from Sugar, not caring who was listening. “What is this really all about?”

Sugar decided not to care as well. “You need to take a break, Helena. You’re doing the most with that Josiah dude.”

Helena rolled her eyes. “So, you’re my gatekeeper now?”

“No, I’m just trying to help you out before you do something really irresponsible again,” Sugar assured. The careless young woman jerked her head backwards as if offended by the truth.

“So, now the truth comes out now,” Helena laughed coldly. “You still holding what happened between me and Lory over my head. It takes two to tango, ya know! So, why am I the only one gettin’ judged?”

Sugar frowned, shaking her head. “What happened between you and Lory isn’t my damn business, Helena. Do I agree with it? No, I don’t. It was straight-up messy, irresponsible, and both of you know it, but once again, that’s none of my business. So, could you just calm yourself in here for a minute while I go use the restroom, please?”

“Go ahead,” Helena replied bitterly, pouting like a spoiled child. Sugar gave her one last look before she went into an available stall. She pushed her panties down, rose up her skintight dress, and sat down. As she peed from drinking all that alcohol, she retrieved her cell from her clutch purse and clicked on her text message app, finding Chef’s name and all the text messages that they had sent back and forth to each other.

In that moment, she visualized how the boys’ bonding was playing out a sports bar nearby. Cold beers, buffalo wings and meaty hamburgers, beautiful waitresses in tight shirts and short-shorts, and egging each other on while they played pool. A drama-free night.

She typed a message.

Sugar: How’s it going?

She stared at it for a long moment, but decided to delete every single letter before she tried again.

Sugar: This club sucks.

She deleted that too.

Sugar: I miss you.

Delete, delete, delete.

Sugar: I’m sorry.

She wasn’t going to delete it, but she wasn't going to send it either. She exhaled her frustration through her nose and decided to close the app altogether. Once she was finished using the restroom, she left the bathroom stall. She looked around the busy restroom for Helena, but the young woman was nowhere to be found.

Why did she expect anything different? After washing her hands, she exited the restroom and went back to the bar. There was no sight of Helena or Josiah or Adam.

Shit, shit, shit!

However, she caught sight of the blonde-haired bartender who had been serving them all night. He beckoned her over with a crook of his finger. She marched over to him.

“I was told to give you this,” the bartender informed as he handed her a folded white napkin. She opened it to see what was inside. It was a phone number with a message and a promise: I’m very uncomplicated and interesting.

“Where did that girl and the two guys I was with go?”

The bartender shrugged his shoulders. “No clue, but if it helps any, they closed out their tabs.”

In a panic, Sugar hurried her way back over to the group’s designated booth. Odette and Taffy were taking a rest from dancing and sipping on some colorful cocktails while they had some light friendly chitchat. Immediately upon Sugar’s arrival, Odette could detect that something was very much wrong.

“What? What happened?”

“Helena left the club with two men.”

It wasn’t the first time either. Sugar had lost count after the ninth time.

“Dammit! You can’t take that chick anywhere!” Odette growled in frustration as she got out her cell and tried to call Helena, but the attempt was all of five seconds. “It went to voicemail!”

About seven minutes later, everyone had filed out of the club and stood in the parking lot like panicking fools.

“Did you schedule a pickup with Dryver, Reid,” Odette asked in a restless voice as she paced back and forth with her phone to her ear as she tried to call her husband Tate for the third time. “Uh, what is with this goddamn family and not answering their goddamn phones!”

“Yeah, they should be here about ten minutes,” Reid assured with a nod, glancing around the parking lot as if looking for it would make their ride come sooner.

Taffy innocently asked, “Um, does she do this often or something?”

“Or something,” Rochelle answered with a roll of her eyes.

“Why aren’t you answering your phone,” Odette snapped at her husband who finally picked up after the fourth try. “Are your waitress’s titties interfering with your phone’s signal or something? You know what? It doesn’t matter. What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Your crazy ass drunk sister hightailed out of the club with two dudes she don’t even know and she turned off her phone. She always does this, Tate! You need to deal with this. You need to find her!”

Then she hung up the phone, still fuming and pacing. A few minutes later, their Dryver ride pulled up beside them in the parking lot with Chef’s car and Sully’s SUV arriving with perfect timing. Sully, Tate, and Victor piled out hurriedly of the SUV with the headlights still on and the vehicle still very much running. Sugar’s breath hitched at the sight of Chef stepping out of his car before she casted her eyes down as if she didn’t deserve to look him in the face, hugging herself tightly even though the summer night air was unmoving, stuffy, and hot.

Tate ran his hand over his shaved dome as he approached his wife real calm even though he was worried as hell. “Throw me a clue here to help me out, Ettie. You know anything about those dudes she left with?”

“Hell no,” Odette tossed back, shaking her head. “I wasn’t anywhere near your sister. No one was except…”

All the women’s eyes fell upon Sugar, which prompted the men to look at her as well. Tate approached her with a pleading look in his eyes. “Shug?”

“I hung out with Helena at the bar with the two men she left with,” Sugar admitted, scanning her eyes through the crowd before she settled unwavering gray eyes and their owner. “Their names were Josiah and Adam. They bought us a lot of drinks and everything was going fine, but Helena was getting crazy on that Josiah guy, so I took her to the restroom to calm down for a minute. I told her to wait for me while I went to the restroom and when I finished, she was gone. I went back to the bar and the bartender told me that they closed out their tabs and…”

She trailed off, her eyes widening as she remembered what the bartender gave her. She reached into her clutch purse and pulled out a wrinkled but folded napkin. “Adam, the other guy, left me this,” she said as she handed it over to Tate, who unfolded it swiftly and read it.

Tate handed it back. “Call him.”

Sugar nodded and got out her cell, dialing the number on the napkin.

“Put it on speaker,” Victor suggested.

She obliged and put it on speaker, her heart in her throat as it rang.

He answered almost immediately, a Migos song thumping and bumping in the background. “So, are you interested in something uncomplicated, Sugar Wallace?”

“I’m still sitting on the fence about that,” she said.

“Maybe, sitting on my face might help with that,” Adam suggested sexily, which prompted a series of reactions. Rochelle choked on air. Katrina widened her eyes in shock. Taffy clasped a hand over her mouth to muffle a giggle. Mallory coughed, banging his fist against his chest.

“I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll pass,” Sugar returned, “but you could help me with something else. Is Helena there with you?”

“We’re in the same place, but she’s not here with me. That honor should belong to you and only you,” Adam said.

“Do you mind giving me an address?”

He chuckled. “It’s gonna cost you.”

“Pray tell what’s that?”

“A kiss,” he answered.

She arched an eyebrow. “A kiss where?”

“A kiss where you taste the sweetest.”

She swirled on her heels, marching away from her family to take this private conversation somewhere else. She was already embarrassed out of her mind that she had allowed her family to listen that long.

“Fine,” she agreed. “Now, can you text me the address?”

He ended the call and a few moments later, her cell buzzed as she received a text containing the address. After she sent a group message to everyone sharing the address, she closed her eyes and took a very deep breath before she returned to them.

“Ettie, I’ll see you back at the beach house,” Tate stated.

Odette blinked at her husband. “Um, how about no, Tate. We’re going with you.”

Tate opened his mouth to protest, but Odette held up her hand. “Uh-uh. We’re going and that’s final. Let’s go, ladies.”

Sugar walked over to the Dryver van, but Rochelle blocked her path. “It’s probably best if you ride with your man, so we don’t get too crammed in here,” she ordered, crossing her arms over her chest. A statement flashed in her sister’s eyes: “You know you was wrong.”

Sugar clenched her jaw and turned on her high heels, moving over to a backseat passenger door. “Come on, Lory.”

“Naw, he’s coming with us,” Rochelle announced, narrowing her eyes sharply at their baby brother. “Let’s go, Lory.”

“You just said that the van was crammed,” Sugar reminded.

“Taffy can sit in Lory’s lap,” Rochelle suggested, which piqued Mallory’s interest. “Problem solved.”

To seal the deal, Taffy shot him a flirtatious smile, flipping her long red tresses over her shoulder. The battle was lost as Mallory gave Sugar a two-finger salute before he joined the rest of the girls in the Dryver ride. Sugar slung open the door and slipped into the backseat, her closest attempt to protect herself. No more than a few moments later, Chef stepped into the car and settled into the driver’s seat, shifting the car into drive and following Sully’s SUV out of the club’s parking lot.

The ride was awful and uncomfortable.

The silence was unbearable.

“Say something,” she replied softly.

He said flatly, “Somethin’.”

Sugar pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. “Ha-ha, very funny, Miles. You’re a real comedian.”

“I’m glad you recognize talent when you see it, darlin’,” he countered.

She scoffed as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You know what, Miles? Be a big boy and ask me the question you’re dying to ask.”

“You wanna play Questions?”

“Why the hell not? After a night like this, I’ve got nothing to lose,” she huffed, throwing her hands in the air. She could see his stormy gray eyes watching her in the reflection of the rearview mirror.

He queried, “Was it not uncomplicated and interesting enough for you?”

She presented him with the middle finger. “Is that your question?”

“If it was, you sure didn’t answer it,” he said, “and I don’t count sign language.”

“To answer your question, no. It wasn’t.”

“Did the gentleman that entertained you at the bar touch you?”

She frowned. “It’s my turn now.”

“You should know by now I don’t exactly play by the rules, Sugar Wallace. Now, answer the question,” he ordered coolly.

She gazed out the window, watching the town drenched in night slither by. “Yes, he kissed my hand.”

“You must’ve left a good first impression him. He went from hand-kissin’ to offerin’ to taste your pussy in no time at all,” Chef chuckled darkly with a sharp edge to it.

“I’m starting to think that I have that effect on men. I mean, you made me soup when I was sick and ate my pussy on the kitchen counter after I met you only three times,” she tossed back. “Let’s not judge, Miles.”

“So, you gonna take him up on his offer then?”

She leaned her temple against the window and closed her eyes.

“No,” she replied gently—tiredly.

“Why?”

“Because we’re pretending, Miles.”

{}{}{}

There was a full-fledged house party in progress as they pulled up the provided address. Sugar stepped out the vehicle and made no attempt to wait for anyone as she entered the party through the front door. She navigated through the sea of twenty-somethings dancing, drinking, and doing drugs like it was the last night of their youth. She had a deep feeling in her gut that Helena was probably somewhere upstairs with Josiah. So, she climbed the stairs and went in search for her, which was a short one Helena stumbled out of a bedroom at the end of the hallway giggling and kissing on Josiah. Her hair was a mess and their clothes were disheveled.

“Helena,” Sugar called as she went to her.

Helena’s glassy eyes lit up at the sight of her. “Oh, my god, sis! You made it! I knew you’d call Adam.”

“We were worried sick about you, Helena. Odette freaked out and called Tate. Everyone’s downstairs looking for you,” Sugar said.

“Your fam ain’t the type to beat dudes up and shit, right,” Josiah asked drunkenly.

“We beat up dudes all the time,” Sugar assured with a warm smile, which caused Josiah to worry.

“She’s lyin’, J. She’s lyin’. Come on. I need to go tell everyone that I’m okay,” Helena said, tugging the man along. “Oh, Shug. I’m gonna tell Adam you up heeeeerrreeeee. So ya’ll can get better acquainted.”

Then Helena gasped happily as she stood at the top of the stairs, gazing down. “Heeeeey, Chef,” she shouted over the music as she descended the stairs with Josiah in tow, “Shug up here. She up here!”

Chef came up the steps casually. With her arms crossed, she stood by the bedroom door Helena and her one-night stand had escaped from. He approached her, towering her. Then he did something that surprised her. He put his hand on the doorknob and twisted it open, gesturing for her to go inside.

“What are we doing,” she asked.

“Pretendin’.”

She eyed him for a long moment, trying to search his face for answers but his face was fairly blank even though his gray eyes swirled with unreadable thoughts she couldn’t decipher. She bit her bottom lip and casted him once last glance before she sauntered into the room. He followed her, shutting the door behind him.

The only light source in the room were strings of colorful Christmas lights dangling from the ceiling. The colors muddled together to radiate a deep vibrant purple. The room smelled like sex, but that didn’t distract Sugar as much as the way Chef’s eyes bored into her. She glanced from the left then to right as if she was unsure if his gaze was meant for her.

It was, and he reassured her by moving towards her.

She retreated in backward steps until her back hit a wall with a tiny gasp. There was barely an inch of space separated them now. She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip as she felt his warm calloused hands caressed her bare thighs just below her short dress. A soft sensual gesture turned dirty as he yanked her dress’s hem up roughly, bunching up it up a smidgen above her hips. She trembled as he hooked his fingers into her panties’ waistline and taking his sweet time as he eased them down before he allowed gravity to the rest of work, pooling them at her cotton candy pink fuck-me-pumps.

In return, she unbuckled his belt then unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, pushing them and his boxer-briefs below the cuffs of his ass to reveal his hardened cock. He nudged her thighs apart by situating his legs in between them, rubbing his mushroom head against her wetness before he bucked his knees upward, impaling her without a single thought. Sugar tossed her head back and screamed over the muffled bass of a hip-hop song from downstairs. His low groan was laced just underneath her scream at his rough invasion then he gripped the undersides of her thighs and lifting her up against him—allowing her to gain height over him, sandwiching her between him and the wall.

Her arms wrapped around his neck tightly, her chin resting on his shoulder and her head leaned against the side of his head. He controlled the force of his passion for her by punishing her with hard, deep thrusts that made her whole body ride up and bounce against him and the wall like cause and effect. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she gripped his salt-and-pepper hair at the back of his neck, her mouth forming a perfect O as she gasped, moaned, and cried. Then sometimes, it felt so good that she couldn’t even formulate a sound of pleasure, so her jaw hung open.

“You like playin’ pretend with me, don’t you, honey,” Chef spoke as he slowed the pace of his fucking, but not the depth. Having lost the ability to speak, she vigorously nodded her head.

“You like pretendin’ you don’t feel the same way about me like I do about you,” he continued in-between his hard-working breaths and grunts, “but don’t worry, honey. I know the truth. Your dirty little secret is safe with me. You trust me with it, don’t you? Or do you want to pretend like you don’t?”

Once again, she doesn’t answer. So in turn, he picked up the rhythm. It’s torturously fast and rough with little room for her to recover, but she loved it so much.

“Are you listenin’, darlin’? Or are you still playin’ pretend, huh? Is that it,” Chef said in a mockingly disappointed tone as he began to roll his hips upward with every thrust at a controlled momentum that could only be described as cruel and leisurely. “Talk to me, darlin’. All this silent treatment is startin’ to hurt my feelings.”

“Yes,” she breathed. “I’m listening, Miles.”

She felt a throaty chuckle rumble in his chest at her answer.

He awarded her by fucking her like she deserved. Then the bedroom door began to open, but she didn’t notice it at first. She had her eyes squeezed shut while she had high-pitched gasps as he dominated her with his plunging dick. The door hinge creaked, and her eyelids snapped open as Adam was standing in the doorway absolutely dumbfounded by the carnal display playing out before him.  

“Sugar?” Her name came out in a drunken slur.

“Miles, someone’s h—” She cut herself off with a panty moan as his pace shifted again, deep, deep, deep possessive thrusts that literally drove her up and down the wall, bouncing her chin on his shoulder.

“You like playin’ pretend, honey, so pretend he ain’t here. Focus on me. Not him. Just me. Focus on how good I’m treatin’ you. All this good dick I’m givin’ you. I’m workin’ hard, honey. I’m workin’ so hard for you.”

Adam was glued to his spot, watching her get her brains fucked out.

God, she couldn’t pretend anymore.

Not with Adam staring at her.

Not her orgasm was closing in and in and in.

“A-a-adam, get the hell out,” she commanded. “Now!”

Utterly, Adam did what he was told and retreated from the room, slamming the bedroom door shut as her orgasm slammed into her, unbridled ecstasy consuming her whole. She let out a raw scream that filled the room. Her pussy squeezed around him in tight, milking pulses as her climax ripped through her—as he pounded into her, spouting encouragement with a smile wide on his lips. “That’s it, honey. That’s it. Mm, that’s my girl. Make ‘em pretty sounds for me.”

As she rose out the last wave of her orgasm, he moved in and out of her a few more times before he spilled his cum inside her pussy. He stilled himself inside of her and against her, both breathing laboriously and trembling.

“Were you pretendin’ to cum for me or was it all real?”

She knew he was being a smartass.

“Real,” she rasped out weakly.

She couldn’t hide it anymore or doubt it.

She couldn’t…pretend anymore.

 






Chapter End Notes:

It's been a minute since I've updated. I've had a lot of crazy things going on with my life, but tonight my muse has cooperated. This was a long but fun chapter to write. Sugar is slowly working through her insecurities, but she's definitely not through. Everyone is kind of doing the most in this chapter. 

I really, really, really like how this chapter turned out.

I felt sad, frustrated, mad, and so many other emotions when I wrote this. It's fun writing imperfect characters. Sugar is insecure and Chef is jealous. Helena is hurting. 

I added pictures for Tate, Victor, Taffy, and a very important new character who will be introduced within the next few chapters. 

Have a wonderful weekend!

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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.