Page 11 of Lovetown, USA

Lane

I open the door to the warm, buttery scent of cornbread. I think I also detect the faint smell of barbecued meat and maybe greens. Trey stands before me holding takeout bags and wearing a faint smile.

“You didn’t have to bring me dinner,” I say as I step aside to let him in.

“I didn’t. This is all mine.” He strolls in like he owns the place, setting the bags on the desk.

I roll my eyes as I dig through the bags. “Yesssss, greens.”

“I told you, all that’s mine.”

“Shut up.”

We sit, dig in, and for a while, all that exists is the steam rising from the Styrofoam takeout boxes and the sound of plastic forks tapping against them. It’s a comfortable quiet, almost lived-in, and that, too, is unsettling, because this man is nothing to me but a fuck buddy.

I allow myself an admiring glance at him, noting how good he looks dressed down in a simple white tee and black Nike track pants.

He glances up at me mid-bite, catching me looking. “So…what happened?”

I set my fork down, wiping my mouth with a napkin. “I went on a date.”

His brows crinkle.

“With a woman.”

His brows loosen and lift almost to his hairline. “Wait—“

“I was at singles skate night. For research purposes,” I add quickly. “This beautiful woman knocked me off my feet, literally, then bought me a soda, then took me to a bar. And then after she brought me back here, we kissed in the car.”

He clears his throat, setting his fork down to give me his undivided attention. “I’m gonna need you to slow it way down and give me the play-by-play.”

I shake my head. “You won’t be getting that. There’s porn if you really need a visual.”

“I don’t watch porn.”

I make a face.

“Okay, I do. But this is better. This is real.” He smiles slyly. “Come on. Just one little detail.”

I roll my eyes dramatically. “All I’ll say is…she had some really soft lips.”

He leans back and smirks. “One more detail.”

“Get out.”

He laughs. “Sounds like the town magic is working on you.”

I groan at the very idea of that “Why’d you jump straight to that? Maybe I’m a lesbian.”

“Are you?”

“No. But I could be.” I pop the last bite of cornbread into my mouth. “It’s not magic. It’s basic human attraction. And sexuality is a spectrum. Maybe I’m just a few notches to the side of straight.”

“Uh huh.”

“I don’t wanna sleep with her, but I’m not gonna pretend the kiss wasn’t good.”

His grin widens. “I see.”

I narrow my eyes. “Eat your food.”

“How good was it?”

“Trey!”

“Okay, fine. “ He chuckles to himself as he watches me finish off my greens. “Make sure you save room for dessert.”

“You brought dessert?”

“Chocolate fudge brownies. Made ‘em myself.”

My eyes widen. “You baked something?”

“I bake when I’m stressed,” he says with a shrug.

“I hear you. I take edibles when I’m stressed, but to each his own.” I push the container away and rest a hand on my stomach. “What exactly are you stressed about, Doc?”

He wipes his hands, his tone shifting a bit. “I have this plan. Ultimately, I wanna open up a clinic for low income patients. Real affordable care.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. I’ve been submitting plans and applying for permits for over a year now and I keep hitting roadblocks. Zoning, red tape…a bunch of bullshit. But I think I have a card I can play. We’ll see in a few days.”

“That’s…very noble.”

He laughs under his breath, a short puff of air, and flicks his hand like he’s shooing a fly away. “I don’t know about all that. It just makes sense, right? This country is fucked when it comes to healthcare. I happen to think it’s a basic human right.”

“I happen to agree with you.”

He nods, and I find him even sexier than I did two minutes ago.

“I respect you for that,” I add. “Deeply.”

He gives me a quiet, grateful look, and something in the air shifts.

“So,” he says softly, “you called me to talk about this kiss. Why is that?”

I shrug. “Don’t get too excited. You were my second choice after my best friend didn’t answer.”

He smiles. “So we’re friends now?”

“Trey. You’ve been inside me. You know how I taste. I would hope we’re friends now.”

He makes a face. “I have plenty of female friends I’ve never tasted or been inside.”

“You know what I mean,” I say, waving him off.

He chooses that moment to break out the brownies. I reach into the tupperware container and grab one. It’s still warm.

One bite of the gooey, chocolatey richness makes me forget my own damn name. I moan dramatically with every delicious bite.

“Damn,” he says quietly. “I guess chocolate really is better than sex.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I say around a mouthful. “But this brownie is about as close as you can get.”

He grins. “I accept tips.”

“Tip deez nuts.”

He grabs a brownie for himself. “How’s your article coming?”

I blow out a frustrated sigh. “It’s not an article anymore. My boss wants a serialized column. Embedded journalism. In other words, I have to date. I have to engage this place. Look for love,” I say, fake gagging. “But just between you and me? I’m gonna write an exposé.”

“Really,” he asks flatly, almost like he was expecting that.

“Mm hm. There’s something off about this place, Trey. I can feel it.”

He nods slowly, his expression unreadable. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

There are a few different ways I can take that, but before I ask for clarification, he stretches and yawns. “I should get on the road,” he says. “Early day tomorrow.”

“Wait.” I pop the rest of my brownie in my mouth, then move to stand in front of him, my hands on my hips. “Before you go, I need you to check my stitches.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“This way I don’t have to make another appointment,” I say, all fake nice.

His amused face tells me he knows where this is going, but he humors me anyway, gently taking my left hand, peeling back the bandage to examine my palm, his fingertips grazing the scar tissue. His touch is light and reverent and affecting.

“Almost dissolved,” he says. “It’s healing nicely.” His eyes flicker up to mine. “Does it still hurt?”

“Just itches sometimes.”

“That’s normal.”

“Good. Because I have another injury.”

He stares up at me, his eyes curious, his mouth curved into a wry smile.

“My wrist.” I hold it out to him like a damsel in distress. “From when I fell earlier.”

He lowers my right hand, then picks up my left. He cradles the wrist, inspecting it with practiced fingers, turning it slowly.

“No swelling,” he murmurs. “No abnormalities. Let’s test mobility.”

He turns my wrist from one side to the other and back again, then pushes my hand up, down, and sideways. It’s all very professional until he dips his head and presses his lips against it with a kiss that feels like a whisper.

I inhale sharply.

“I think you’re okay,” he says, eyes still fixed on my wrist.

“I don’t think I am.”

He looks up again from his seated position, searching my face. “What else do you need?”

“You know exactly what I need.”

Slowly and carefully, he lowers my wrist and brings his hands to the hem of my shirt, pushing it up, exposing my flesh. His lips brush my stomach, dotting kisses across every inch of my bare skin. Goosebumps erupt as my eyes flutter shut.

Then he yanks my shorts down, and my eyes fly open just in time to watch him dive face first into my pussy.

“Trey…” I breathe.

His tongue is lethal.

He lifts my leg and tosses it over his shoulder, using his fingers to spread me open.

“Shit . Yessss…”

My head falls back. My hands find the top of his head, grabbing desperately at something to hold while he unravels me.

He’s such a good friend.

And I love how in tune we are already, particularly when it comes to this. Oral sex is my kryptonite. I swear, if all I could ever do sexually for the rest of my life was get head, I’d sign on the dotted line without thinking twice.

“Fuck,” I whisper. “Right there. Yes . Oh, God…”

He moans while he licks, fingers digging into my ass cheeks. I don’t know why he’s holding on so tight, because I damn sure ain’t running, but I like the faint twinge of pain and the way it offsets the pleasure.

A few minutes later, I’m grateful for his foresight. I go completely limp when I cum, with only his strong hands keeping me from melting into a puddle on the floor.

I don’t open my eyes until I hear the crinkling of plastic. My eyes shift just in time to see him covering himself with a condom.

“Don’t look down there,” he says, breathless. “Ain’t shit for you to see. Gon’ head and sit on that muhfucka.”

For the second time tonight, I do what I’m told.

I sink onto him, sucking in a breath as he fills me to the brim. He yanks my shirt up over my head, tossing it aside, going straight for my nipples with his mouth.

I’m in no hurry, and I wanna go slow, but this feels urgent. Fucking him hard and fast feels like a necessity. I buck against him, up and down, in and out, using my pussy to polish his dick to a new penny shine.

God, he’s so sexy. I love a man who isn’t afraid to make noise. I hear it all. The low growls, rough grunts, desperate moans, whispered curses. He’s so deep, I feel like we’re conjoined, and for that, I’m grateful. It feels so good, he’d have to surgically remove my pussy to get me off him.

“Fuck!” He bucks into me, pushing deeper, deep enough to make me cry out. “Pussy so good,” he murmurs against my skin.

I stare down at his face, pinched with pleasure, dipping my head to pull his bottom lip between my teeth.

He hits a spot deep inside me, or maybe I’m the one who drove him there.

His hand moves from my breast to my neck, and something about that touch, him fucking collaring me, makes my eyes roll back and my body tremble.

I curl my fingers around his forearm, but not out of fear.

I relish the feel of the corded muscles against my fingertips, savoring the power beneath his skin.

We’re singing the same song, now, moving perfectly in sync.

And as my fingers tighten around his arm, his squeeze the side of my neck.

I explode suddenly and unexpectedly, a pleasant surprise that leaves me keening softly.

He doesn’t let me finish before he shatters, his groans drowning me out as he releases, throbbing deep inside of me, over and over again until we’re both sweaty and limp and satisfied.