Too Hard: Chapter 19

THE NEW ARRANGEMENT with Blair works better than I initially anticipated. Not that I was thinking clearly when we made the deal. I’m not thinking clearly now, recalling one morning last week that she spent sprawled over my breakfast bar while I feasted on her pussy, making her squirt three times before we moved to the bedroom for round two.

Guilt gnaws at me whenever she’s not around to distract me from my thoughts, but I ponder calling it off ten times a day, feeling like an asshole for indulging in Blair, of all people. I feel even worse when we’re together, and I can barely keep myself from dipping my head to take her lips in mine.

I’m not lying to myself, though. I know I won’t call it off. Not yet. I’ve not had my fill. One second of remembering what she feels like coming beneath me, and calling it off seems like a felony. Besides, no one knows.

No one will know unless either of us decides otherwise, and sex with Blair is something out of this world. When we’re alone, she’s not on guard. No masks, no pretending, no fake smiles, or bitchy attitude. She’s pliant and submissive, or demanding, depending on my mood.

She’s perfect and I have no control around her.

I’m weak.

There, I fucking said it. I’m weak.

No matter how bad I feel about fraternizing with the enemy I can’t stop this.

What Mia’s eyes don’t see won’t hurt her, and this meaningless arrangement with Blair might just stop my obsessive, compulsive protectiveness toward my brother’s fiancée.

There is nothing healthy about it. Neither for me nor her.

I almost blocked her relationship with Nico because I was so fixated on keeping her sheltered. Thank God he doesn’t give up easily. By his side, Mia blossomed from a timid, afraid of her own shadow, sweet little girl to a still sweet but confident young woman.

She doesn’t take his bullshit like she did at the beginning. She stands up for herself. She’s fine, and I need to stop walking on eggshells wherever she’s concerned.

Try as I might, I couldn’t fight the feral need that consumes me whenever Blair’s close. I stayed away for two weeks after that first time, running around in fucking circles before I snapped.

Making our sexcapades more regular didn’t cross my mind until I painted the delicate skin of her back with my cum and realized that was it. Done. Over.

The last thing I wanted was for it to be over.

But it’s just sex. Nothing more.

When she set the rules while standing naked in my bathroom, I almost said no way, remembering the man who screamed at her while we were on the phone. I’m not sure but I think it’s the same man who screamed at her the night she slept in my arms.

I need answers because I didn’t like that guy’s tone. Derogatory, spiteful… that’s no way to talk to a woman.

Even if that woman is Blair.

I had time to think about everything she told me while Noah napped on my couch. I spent two weeks overthinking our every encounter, unearthing the little things she said, the things she only implied and… I’m having a hard time hating her as much as I did before.

I still hate her—pinky promise—but it doesn’t come as effortlessly. I have no trouble fucking her brains out, though.

But while we’re acting like perfect strangers, I wonder what she does when she’s not with me, alone in her condo. I wonder if she thinks about me. I wonder if she cries herself to sleep.

I wonder why I fucking wonder.

“Who the fuck are you dressing up for?!”

Those words come back and hit me a few times a day.

Is that guy dangerous? He sounded like someone who wouldn’t have an issue smacking a girl about, but I’ve been scrutinizing Blair’s body every time we have sex, and so far, not a single mark on her perfect skin.

Not one bruise, cut, not one sign someone touched her against her will. And you don’t ask a guy to face-fuck you if you went through that kind of trauma, so there’s that.

Another thing about our little dalliance that surprised me is the weight these rules took off my shoulders. Instead of obsessing that I’m doing a stupid thing with the girl I should never touch, I accept us for what we are—physical.

Primitive, desire-driven, great sex.

Blair made sure it’s impersonal. A dirty deed. No chats, no kisses, no way we could crave more. We severed the connection sprouting between us before it properly took root. The same connection that had us digging through the piles of crap in our past. We channeled that effort into testing our limits in bed.

I found zero in Blair so far.

Despite going overboard more than once, she hasn’t tapped out yet. On the other hand, she found one no-go with me when her finger ventured too close to my asshole. To say I jerked away would be an understatement. I jumped out of bed, my chest heaving, eyes shooting fireballs her way.

I don’t hate for the sake of hating. I tried many things over the years, learning what makes me tick. I could get on board with cock rings, vibrators strapped to my shaft, or even—though I’m not a fan—edging, but a finger in my ass is not my jam.

Blair, on the other hand, almost fucking purrs when I coat my fingers in her arousal and toy with that tight back entrance. I’m yet to push my dick in there, but she comes twice as hard when I slip the tip of my finger past the ring of muscles.

I adjust myself in my chair because my cock’s growing hard just thinking about going balls-deep in her ass to make her squirt.

It’s been two weeks since we made the deal, and we’ve had sex eighteen times (not that I’m counting). July is here already, hellishly hot. Five more weeks until Logan’s wedding, four until the bachelor party I’m here to plan with my brothers.

Too bad planning the night’s strippers and booze loses the battle for my attention with Miss Fitzpatrick. I can’t push her out of my head for five fucking minutes lately.

Just this morning, she knocked on my door at five thirty, two hours before I normally rise on a Friday, sucked me off in the shower, then pushed me onto the bed and rode my face.

She tried sliding off when she was about to come, but hey, we’re testing limits, so I held her in place, and almost fucking drowned as she came.

I thought I wouldn’t enjoy it considering scientists have yet to decipher the squirting phenomenon. I thought it’ll be like a golden shower—

A lightbulb moment has me snatching my phone from the table to text Blair. Sex talk is the only talk we are free to engage in, so I’m not crossing any lines.

Me: Got one more. Golden showers.

B: Isn’t squirting the same thing? You didn’t protest this morning.

Me: It’s nothing like that. Tastes sweet like your pussy. Smells like your pussy too. Cherry candy.

She sends back a rolling-its-eyes emoji because she thinks it’s dumb that I claim she tastes like candy. That’s impossible, Cody.

Like I don’t know that. Of course it’s impossible, but I love her taste, and when I say she tastes like cherry candy, it’s because it’s my favorite flavor and hers is on par.

“What’re you smirking at?” Colt asks, joining me at the table, fashionably late, his hair freshly cut into the signature style he’s had for years.

Seems like everyone in this family took punctuality lessons from Logan. I’ve been sitting at this table for ten minutes, and even though we said seven and it’s five past, no one but Colt is here yet.

“Nothing. A message I got,” I say, erasing the chat before tucking my phone into my back pocket. “Where is everyone?”

“Shawn pulled up just as I was coming in. I don’t know about the rest. You been here long?”

“Not really. Ten minutes tops.”

His eyes quickly sweep the table. “Why haven’t you ordered a beer?”

“I was waiting for all of you.”

“You never do that.” He narrows his eyes, crossing both arms over his chest. “Alright, spill. You obviously spent the last ten minutes texting some chick, so out with it. Who is she?”

“I’m not texting any chicks. I’ve not got rid of Ana yet, so I’m taking a break from pussy.”

“You gonna try a dick?” Shawn asks, approaching our table with his husband, Jack.

“My friend has a massive crush on you, Cody,” Jack says, pulling another table closer since we won’t all fit by the one I chose, and Nico apparently failed to let the staff know we’ll need a table for eight. “I can give you his number.”

“Tell him I’m flattered but I’ll stick with pussy. As soon as I find one less unhinged than Ana.”

“Has she been in touch again?” Shawn asks, waving the waitress over. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I got rid of her. She’s not doing anything harmful. I’m sure you can’t file for a restraining order just because someone gets on your nerves and doesn’t understand no.”

“Evening, boys,” Kathy, the waitress, says, pulling her notepad out of her breast pocket. “What are we having? The usual?”

“Yes, babe. The rest are on their way so grab theirs too, alright? Except Logan. We’re planning his bachelor party, so he’s not coming. Oh, and could you grab us something to nibble on? I get the feeling we’ll be here a while.”

“Sure thing,” she chirps, sending Colt a smoldering look we all catch.

As soon as she saunters back toward the bar, the attention swings from me to my identical brother.

“Nico’s gonna be pissed when he finds out you’re fucking his staff, bro,” I say in a hushed tone.

“What else is new? He’s always pissed.”

“True,” Shawn chuckles. “But maybe tell your girl to keep it on the down-low if she doesn’t want to lose her job. Back to you though, Cody. I don’t like this Ana thing. She sounds obsessed, and from experience, I can tell you it never ends well.”

“I’ll be fine. She’s not been around since—” I push the air from my lungs, applying the brakes before I let it slip that Ana’s not been around since she caught me sneaking out of Blair’s condo last week. “Since I yelled at her.”

The questioning looks triggered by my tripping over my words dissipate in a flash. They know I break out in hives whenever a situation forces me to raise my voice at a woman.

The only girl I ever snapped at without remorse is Blair, but now things between us have escalated, the regret hits every time she’s such a good girl and lets me paint her tanned skin with my cum or slide my cock deep into her sweet mouth.

Conor and Theo arrive when the waitress sets our order on the table, but no sign of Nico. He’s never late, at least not this much, so we’re getting restless. Theo grabs his phone ten minutes later, putting it on loudspeaker.

Nico answers almost immediately. “Five minutes, Theo. Order me a beer, will you?”

“Already waiting.”

As promised, Nico shows up five minutes later, his cheekbone swollen like he’s been fighting. Not one of us would bat an eye a year ago, but since he found Mia, Nico stopped throwing his fists left and right, so this is interesting.

“What happened?” Jack asks, gesturing at his face. “Who pissed you off?”

“Better question would be who I pissed off.” He sits beside me, snatching his beer and draining a third. “Mia’s not happy with me.”

“She hit you?” Theo’s eyes widen before he bursts out laughing. “And she actually did some damage with those tiny fists? Shit, bro. I knew I liked her the moment I saw her.”

“She didn’t hit me. Well, not in my face. She threw a few punches at my shoulder. I was teaching her to drive and she panicked when the green light came on. Instead of slowly accelerating, she fucking floored it. We were in the Merc, and that thing spins like nobody’s business, so the car shot forward, did a one-eighty, and my head slammed the side window.”

“Is she okay?” I ask, my fingers flexing in and out of fists. “Is she hurt?”

“She’s fine, relax.” He waves me off. “Not a scratch on her. She’s pissed off, though.”

“Stop forcing her to drive. She won’t learn because she doesn’t want to learn,” Shawn cuts in. “It’s not like she needs to drive, right? Rose can take her to college.”

“I don’t think she’ll let me teach her again.”

“Good. Leave her alone, and let’s get started,” Shawn says. “I remember Logan mentioning a tiger when we were planning my bachelor party. Are we doing that?”

“Can’t say I know where to rent a tiger, but we can paint Ares with orange stripes,” Theo, the best man, says with a grin. “He was all talk back then because he didn’t have a girl,” he adds. “Now he’s whipped, and I bet he won’t even want to leave Cassidy alone for the weekend.”

“Tough shit,” Colt says, waving the waitress over for another round. “He’s coming. Voluntarily or not.”

“Okay, so no tiger, what about the guest list?”

“I’ve got one penciled in. It’s a bit long. Almost eighty.” Theo pulls a piece of paper from his pocket, passing it to Nico.

“Eighty?”

He shrugs. “I only included people I know they’ll invite to the wedding, but I’m sure we can prune this a bit.” He crosses his hands, staring us all down. “What? It’s not my fault Logan’s friends with half of fucking Newport.”

Nico skims the list, pulls out a pen, and starts crossing off names. Before long, the list is shortened to fifty-two guys and we’re left with no choice but to ask Logan to join the next meeting and narrow it down further.

While Jack and Shawn argue about hotels and casinos, my phone vibrates in my pocket, and I head outside for a smoke to check the message, not dumb enough to do it at the table under my brothers’ scrutiny.

It’s just two words.

B: Not tonight.

My eyebrows pinch in the middle. She’s canceling plans we only made this morning? I guess I can’t expect her to be at my beck and call and a break might be a good idea, but it doesn’t feel right. We’ve been fucking multiple times a day, and most of those times Blair initiated, beating me to the punch.

Me: Okay.

It sounds harsh, like I’m pissed off, and truthfully… I am. I clench and unclench my fists, annoyance dancing at the edge of my mind. I was looking forward to tonight. Got her favorite wine and planned to feed her Chinese takeout before letting her leave.

Even if she’d throw a fit that I’m breaking the rules! which she probably would.

Colt joins me outside, leaning against the wall a few steps to my left, pulling his cigarettes from his pocket.

“Feels like we’re losing touch,” he says, staring into the sky. “Conor’s with Vee most of the time, you’re locked in your condo, I’m working my ass off…”

“That’s normal. We had to grow up sometime, but I don’t think we’re losing touch.”

“Yeah? Because not so long ago we couldn’t go a day without talking through anything that happened, and now look at us. You didn’t even tell me Ana’s still stalking you.”

“Nothing new happened, Colt. Not so long ago, you were trying not to share every tiny detail of your life with us, and now you’re pissed off that I’m not whining about Ana every time she shows up?”

He grinds his teeth, knowing damn well I’m right. “I don’t want you to feel you can’t talk to me just because we don’t live in the same house, okay? There’s suddenly distance between us and I don’t like it.”

“I know we can talk. If there’s something worth mentioning, I’ll call.”

“You sure there’s nothing you want to mention now?”

My heartbeat accelerates. There’s no way he knows about my deal with Blair. No way. We’ve not been caught or even near-caught—

Fuck! Ana…

If she blabbed, I’m screwed. What do I tell him? How do I explain myself? What excuse can I conjure? I’m not great with making shit up on the spot, so I drag out the silence, racking my brain and coming up empty.

How do I explain that the Blair we both know and hate hides a different girl inside? One that’s kind, helpful, and broken. One that needs someone to believe she means every word when she apologizes. Someone to hold her when she cries and kiss her when she smiles.

Colt wouldn’t believe me.

“You got something to ask?” I huff, no clue what to say if he gets it right. “Ask away, Colt. Don’t play games.”

I don’t think Ana called Colt to tell him she caught me with Blair. Why would she? They exchanged maybe ten sentences total since the night in The Ramshack last year.

Ana doesn’t know anything about Mia’s bullying or why this dalliance with Blair could hurt me and the people around me if anyone found out.

I take a deep breath, cooling my jets.

“Fine,” Colt says, pushing away from the wall, looking annoyed. “Blair. What’s happening, Cody? First you hate her, then you knock out Alan. Now you’re MIA most of the time.”

He doesn’t know shit.

He’s just fishing for information in true Colt fashion. If he knows I’m fucking Blair on the side, he’d call me out on it.

“Don’t throw Alan in my face. You know why I did that. You knocked him out for the same fucking reason. I would’ve been pissed off regardless of who he had in that closet. Nothing to do with Blair.”

At the time, I believed it, but things changed quickly. Well, not that quickly. Blair and I have been neighbors for almost two months, and she’s been spending hours upon hours on my cock for two weeks now.

We don’t talk unless it’s related to sex, but I’m learning so much about her while she’s under me and even more right after when we lay in bed, coming down from the high. Silence, gestures, facial expressions… all speak volumes.

I’ve not realized this until I saw her leave her condo last night, but somewhere along the line, I learned how to figure out where she’s heading based on what she wears. Short, tight, colorful dresses when she’s meeting her friends. Red, hooker-styled ones when I don’t think I want to know where she’s heading. Skinny jeans that look painted-on and pretty blouses when she’s volunteering at the hospital, and… anything goes when she’s with me. Sweats, jeans, shorts, pj’s.

I like her best when she doesn’t give a crap about her clothes and makeup. When she lets her guard down, peels off the disguise, and isn’t forcing smiles or overthinking her words.

“Fine,” Colt says, butting his cigarette on the ground. “I believe you, but…” He pins me with a pointed stare that I know well: I’ve got you. “Come talk to me if anything changes.”

“I will,” I say, half absent from this conversation, my mind whirling around Blair’s whereabouts.

I didn’t see her leave today, so I don’t know what she was wearing or where she went that was so important she can’t stop by for sex.

“I mean it, Cody. I’m here for you, alright?”

“I heard you the first time.”