His Kind of Perfect (Sugar Bay #1) (12 page)

At last, he put his head to hers. Sweat
poured from him but she didn’t mind.

“Fuck.” His voice was hoarse, sexy and her
girl parts clenched hard.

Fuck was right.

Anabelle Broussard had finally been well
and truly fucked. And by a heterosexual male who desired her, who didn’t have
to fantasize about another man and who knew how to give a woman pleasure.

Anabelle Broussard finally had a male
induced orgasm.

Hot and dirty sex, indeed.

Happy
Birthday to her
.

“Someone will be right with you, ma’am.” The
hostess smiled, her lip ring sparkled in the morning sun, before she turned to
leave.

Anabelle nodded, her eyes hidden behind oversized
black sunglasses. She slid into the booth Charlie had deemed ‘theirs’ at the
Tilted Kilt, their weekly Sunday brunch destination. As usual, Anabelle arrived
first. She expected Charlie would straggle in later demanding coffee. Anabelle
was more of a green tea kind of girl. The taste of coffee straight up was
abhorrent unless she added a shameful amount of cream and sugar, hell on her
waistline, but she adored the heavenly aroma of the brew.

But after countless orgasms between lunch
and midnight, she was in too mellow of a mood to care. It was a wonder she
could sit upright rather than slide into a puddle on the floor. As guaranteed,
he’d been good, better than good, awe-inspiring.

Derek was committed as her tutor. He’d
coaxed, corralled and gently bullied her into one position after another, doing
things, as sheltered as she’d been, she’d never dreamed of.

But he knew what he wanted, and he’d wanted
her. And good golly, he’d had her.

By midnight she’d been unable to move but
she knew she couldn’t stay the night. The protocol for such a situation had
escaped her. She was fairly certain Miss Manners didn’t have an article on ‘How
to gracefully take leave of the man who initiated your first orgasms’.

On behalf of all the single ladies out there,
Miss Manners should consider adding that chapter. There had to be others, like
her, who’d decided to captain their sexual revolution rather than wait for Mr.
Perfect to find them.

Was a
firm handshake at the door acceptable?
A friendly one-armed hug?
Both
options seemed tame considering he'd had his hands, lips and tongue in her lady
parts.

The panic made her claim an early morning of
jogging and breakfast with Charlie. The irony was Charlie once told her if
Anabelle ever saw Charlie running, she should run too because something bad was
behind her. Charlie’s preferred pace was more of a hip-rolling stroll. Why run,
when she could walk. But Derek didn’t know that.

He’d walked her to her car a little past
midnight and kissed her senseless before watching her drive off. In the
rearview mirror, she’ watched his fine, shirtless form until she turned the
last corner. When it was safe, she grinned and did a happy dance, a giddy mass
of satisfied woman.

Her thighs clenched at what they’d done.

From his couch to his bed, he’d been
thorough in his tutoring and as excelling at a given task was her forte, she’d
been his star pupil.

She grinned.

Already she was eager for the next lesson.
Last night, he’d been in complete control and refused to let her explore. Next
time she wanted full access to his body. It was only fair. She was eager to
explore his happy trail and the goods beyond.

Yes.

The beyond part was especially enticing and
she wanted to test those moves Cosmo suggested. For years, she’d read articles boldly
claiming how you could blow a man’s mind in five easy steps and she’d never had
been allowed to test the theories. For the sake of science, she was eager to
test the experiment for accuracy.

She yearned to lick and suck and--.

The clatter of dropped dishes interrupted
her thoughts.

Anabelle glanced up and saw the owner fuss
at a new busboy. Poor kid. Dishes were scattered around him and he hustled to
clean the mess.

Anabelle strained her neck to peer over the
booths. No sign of Charlie. Anabelle fanned her face. Her sexy thoughts weren’t
appropriate for the Tilted Kilt where families congregated. A toddler devouring
a blueberry muffin caught her eye. The redheaded imp ate with
gusto,
crumbs flew around haphazardly while her parents were
desperate to contain the mess. She smiled at their harried expressions. The
battle of two against one where the smallest one was the clear winner yet
judging by the satisfied smile the little monster flashed, she enjoyed the show.

Anabelle shook her head. Bless them.

The waiter came by with two glasses of
water. She knew the drill. Coffee and green tea would be delivered later.

Another search for a familiar auburn head
yielded nothing so she checked her phone. No text from Charlie so she sent a ‘Where
r u?’ message.

The Tilted Kilt had great blueberry
pancakes and crispy bacon. She debated whether she should be good and get the veggie
omelet or be bad and get what she really wanted.
First world
problems.
Early death via an overload of sugar and possible clogged
arteries or extend life by eating something boring but healthy. A waitress
brought a stack of blueberry goodness to a couple one table over and she took
it as a sign.

Hello
Maine blueberries.

Her phone buzzed. Annabelle glanced at her
phone, expecting a response from Charlie. Her heart skipped when she noted the
sender.

Derek
.

Better hold off on the bacon, clear
arteries were necessary for the upcoming lessons.

Come by
later.

For a second, she was unsure how to
respond. Play it cool and wait before replying or be polite and be seen as
eager and reply immediately. Mind games stunk.

She needed to stop reading self-help
magazines. Instead of making clear decisions, she was paralyzed by self-doubt. Her
phone buzzed.

Derek, who didn’t seem to
care for mind games.
Bless him.

I have
something for you.

She gave in and went with the moment,
ignoring the experts.

Something. Is that what they call it these
days?

There was a brief pause but she saw he was
typing a response.

Yep.
Something really good.

She smiled and let her fingers do the
flirting.

Yeah? Will it be as good as last night?

Better.

Nice.
As long as I get to
explore too.

You’ll
get a turn eventually. Had a lot of pressure to dazzle my student with my
expertise last night. Time restraint is killing me. BTW, you should reconsider
that.

Being resident expert has gone to your
head. Good teaching involves participation. Remember…learn one, do one, teach
one.

Who are
you planning to teach?

No comment.

Hmmm
..
.Tutor believes punishment is in order for that comment
alone.

Punish? Her girly parts perked. Light
bondage was on her list. As long as it didn’t involve pain, she wasn’t opposed.
Pain was
not
on her list of what she
was curious about. By habit, she’d made the list late last night after she’d
gotten home.

Punish how?

“Hey girl! Sorry I'm late! Parking was a
bitch this morning.” Charlie breezed by and slid into the opposite booth, the
delicious essence of Versace and sunshine drifted in her wake.

Anabelle dropped her phone in her purse,
shoving the bag away lest Charlie saw the messages.

“No worries,” she said then cleared her
throat, her voice sounded strange. She hoped Charlie hadn’t noticed.

“Hey, are you okay? Your face is red.”

Her purse buzzed and Anabelle ignored it.

“I’m fine.”
Liar, liar.
She was hot and horny and didn’t that beat all. Anabelle. Hot. Horny.
In the same sentence.
She fanned her face and tried to
control herself.

“You look flushed. You’re not getting sick
are you?” Charlie reached to feel her forehead but Anabelle batted her hands
away.

“No. I feel fine.”
Better
than fine.
She hadn’t felt this fine in a long time. Maybe never.
Thank you, Derek.

Again, her purse buzzed but she didn’t look
at the thing, she should have put in on silent mode. Another buzz. Still she
didn’t look.

“You gonna check that?”

“Hmmm? It’s probably nothing important.” She
took a sip of water and set the glass down harder than she’d intended and water
sloshed over the edge. She cleaned the mess with two cocktail napkins,
conscious of Charlie’s speculative gaze.

“Really? You seem nervous this morning,
Anabelle. Anything I should know? Maybe about your lunch date with Derek?
Hmmmm?” Before Charlie continued with the Spanish inquisition, their waitress
interrupted for their order. She ordered the blueberry pancakes but substituted
tofu bacon instead of real bacon. She needed fully functioning arteries for the
next month.

While Charlie contemplated her order, Anabelle
busied herself with the cutlery, arranging and polishing them with a straw full
of water and a napkin, hoping she’d been granted a reprieve. She channeled her
best nonchalant look as Charlie completed her order and the waitress walked
away.

“Confess.”

“What?” She widened her eyes and met
Charlie’s stare.

“See, there’s where you went wrong. That
wide eyed look is your tell, Anabelle.” Charlie crossed her arms over her chest
leveling Anabelle her infamous
don’t mess
with me
look.

“Why aren’t you a lawyer, Charlie? You
could do some real
good
for society. Criminals would
quiver in your presence.”

“Stop hedging.”

“Bakers are supposed to be soft and
fluffy.”

Charlie shrugged. “Sue me.”

The phone buzzed again. She flushed but
stared back into familiar hazel eyes.
Confess
nothing. Keep calm and fib on.

Charlie smiled, nodding to the buzzing
purse,
she changed her tone to a coaxing one. “Why don’t you
go ahead and check your phone Anabelle. You know you’re dying to read the
messages. Besides, I think the phone and your flushed face are somehow
connected.”

“You need to stop watching Rizzoli and
Isles.”

“Hey, don’t knock the crime shows when you
know you love it too. Solving murders is one of my hobbies just like painting
is one of yours.”

“You’re demented, you know that, don’t
you?”

“Maybe, but you love me.”

“True.”

“A-na-belle.” Bad cop and good cop Charlie
had left the premises, and a juvenile Charlie bounced in her place. “You know
you can’t keep a secret from me.”

She hadn’t yet but there was a first time
for everything.

“I feel the need to warn you, I’m ten
seconds from lunging across the table.”

“Jeez, woman, I give.” She pulled the phone
out and slammed it on the table.

Twenty
lashes with my tongue if you’re good. More if you’re very good.

Bring
your swimsuit.

Or not.

Nude
sunbathing would be fun.

Bring a
change of clothes too.

We can have
dinner and watch the parade from my balcony.

“Heavens.”

“Holy shit!”

They said at the same time, one louder than
the other and drew stares.

“Seriously, are you sexting? And with Derek?”

One of Charlie’s talents was reading upside
down. Why did she bother keeping anything from Charlie?

Charlie hooted and several patrons eyed
them. “Will you hush?” The urge to hide under the table was strong. Instead Anabelle
shoved her phone back into her bag without responding.

“You cougar.” Charlie winked and Anabelle
groaned. “Text him
back
. Don’t leave him hanging.” Charlie
waggled her eyebrows, grinning. Her friend had an evil sense of humor and had
been put on earth to torture Anabelle.

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell
you,” she said, hating the petulant tone in her voice, but obeyed.

Sounds good. See you then. Got to go.

“That was cold. No sweet nothings?”

Charlie barked in laughter at the death
glare Anabelle sent.

“I’m joking, sweetie.” She leaned over to
embrace Anabelle. “Let’s celebrate! It’s not every day my best friend gets
some.” Charlie danced in her seat to music only she heard. Anabelle shook her
head. It was hard to stay mad at her. “Now spill. How was it?”

Faced with Charlie’s all knowing eyes,
Anabelle breathed, “Incredible.”