The Brightest Light of Sunshine

Fuck, fuck and fuck.

Oh, did I say fuck?

When Grace told me a few hours ago that Try-Hard Dude had kissed her cheek on their date, I lost my goddamn mind. And when she asked me if I could teach her about sex so she wouldn’t feel embarrassed when she did it—with him—I wanted to find out where he lived and burn his house down.

This isn’t supposed to be happening. I’m not supposed to get angry at the world because Grace is interested in someone else. For fuck’s sake, I don’t even want her to be interested in me.

I can’t commit to a serious relationship when my sister and her stability should be my number one priority. If I let someone in, Maddie will get attached and when they leave—because trust me, they always do—it will make her more upset than I can afford to handle.

Not to mention that I don’t want to be in a relationship right now. My last one ended nearly four years ago after I found out she’d been cheating on me for three months out of the seven we were together. After she denied everything and I showed her proof—the other guy also thought she was single until he saw us together, recognized me from the shop, and told me—, she threw both a fit and my computer screen across the room and into the nearest wall.

So yeah, not traumatizing at all.

Even if I wanted a girlfriend, deep down I know it shouldn’t be Grace.

I’ve never had such a close, special relationship with a woman before. I can’t pinpoint exactly in what way, but ours is so different from every other friendship I’ve ever had—even the one with Trey that goes back so many years.

It’s like fate clicked into place when we met. Like having her walk into my tattoo shop was meant to happen.

This primal need to see her, to text her, to talk to her, to make her laugh and wipe away her tears… It’s tearing me apart to think everything could be destroyed if we took that next step and it didn’t work.

But I’m not scared. I simply don’t want to date Grace, that’s all.

Why am I tossing and turning at one in the morning just thinking about her, then?

Fuck my life, honestly.

I close my eyes in an attempt to shut my brain down and listen to the silence in my apartment. Since Maddie isn’t here tonight, I could turn on the TV and watch something until I fall asleep or play whatever video game will make me fall asleep the fastest, but I know neither of those things will make me unwind. Not when my mind is such a fucked-up mess.

Lying on my back on top of my covers, it becomes clear after a while that sleep won’t overcome me as if by magic. My brain starts spinning—not like it ever stops—and imagining scenarios I should ignore. Especially because they involve my mouth between her legs and such a pretty sight won’t help my current state in the slightest.

How her breath hitched when I stood so close to her, her flustered cheeks and her parted lips…

No. Get a fucking grip.

I shift my weight to the other side of the bed, hoping the cold sensation of the untouched covers does something to calm me down. It doesn’t.

I take my shirt off, thinking it’s the next best thing I can do. Perhaps it’s the heat of the room that doesn’t let me sleep.

It doesn’t register what I’m doing until my hand is inside my boxers, stroking my length ever so slightly.

Well, then. If this is the only thing that will get me to fall asleep, so be it.

My hand roams the base of my cock, debating whether I’ll go to hell for this. As I reach the conclusion that I most likely will, I wrap my long fingers around the shaft and start pumping it up and down, slowly at first. I squeeze at the base every time my hand comes down to mimic the delicious clenching of the body I wish I was sinking into. But she’s not here, and my twisted imagination is all I have.

I can feel guilty tomorrow—and I will. But tonight, I want to close my eyes and imagine that it’s Grace pleasuring me as I teach her about sex like she so badly wants me to.

Throwing my head back, my movements become faster and deeper as my head conjures the wicked image of my sweet little Grace wrapping those plump lips around my cock, sucking and choking on it. Fuck. She’d be a natural, I’m sure, milking me so good until I come down her throat.

I’m sick, so fucking sick for this, but I don’t care. I can’t stop.

My other hand grips the covers, and I suppress a loud groan as I picture myself fucking her mouth, pulling her blonde hair in my fist and shoving my fat cock down her eager throat. God, she’d be so tight everywhere.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

My dick twitches in my hand, and I start pumping it faster as the first drops of precum soak my fingers. The thought of Grace is all-consuming. I bet she’d scream as I pound into her, give me the sweetest moans I’ve ever heard. Desperate, needy, so ready for me as I fuck her from behind like an animal.

The mental picture of her virgin pussy swallowing my cock is all it takes to make me come down from this fucked-up high. With a throaty groan, I come harder than ever all over my hand.

Fuck.

Holy fucking shit.

What the hell was that?

I am a sick asshole.

Allowing myself a moment to just lie there and catch my breath before I take a shower and clean up, I decide this can’t happen again. It’s wrong in so many ways I’m getting a headache just thinking about it.

Grace deserves better than a friend who jerks off to her when all she wants is an innocent friendship. She deserves better than me, and the realization fucking hurts. I don’t want to lose her, and if I don’t cut this kind of shit off I will.

So I erase the last five minutes of my life from my memory, and hope they don’t come back to haunt me later.

***

They come back. Oh, yes, they do.

As I wait outside The Teal Rose for Grace to finish her shift, I can’t help but steal a few quick glances in her direction. A pair of tight jeans hug every sinful curve of her legs and ass, and she’s wearing a black turtleneck that has no business making her look so damn good. Her hair falls like a soft cascade around her shoulders, the golden rings on her fingers glinting under the chandelier on the ceiling.

She’s breathtakingly stunning, inside and out.

And I should get a grip before the evidence of my thoughts starts straining my jeans. She doesn’t see me that way, and I shouldn’t see her like that either.

The last thing I want is to ruin things between us when I don’t even want a relationship in the first place. I don’t think she’s looking for one, either. Hell, she’ll probably flip out and never talk to me again if she found out I touched myself at the thought of her a couple of nights ago. She might be starting to be interested in sex, but I’m still sick in the head for even imagining her in such a sexual scenario without her consent.

“All done.” She gives me the brightest smile when she comes outside to lock the front door, and it makes me feel even worse. She trusts me and she’s healing, and I had to go and do that. “Ready to go?”

She texted me this morning asking me if I could drive her to a couple of the bigger bookstores around Warlington so she can soak up some inspiration for her assignment. I had nothing better to do, and how was I supposed to say no anyway? She’s got me wrapped around her little finger.

We drive in silence for the most part with only my rock music filling the car, although it’s never awkward with her. And luckily, things between us haven’t changed much since she asked me about sex earlier this week. In fact, it’s as if our conversation had never happened.

I can’t decide whether it makes me feel better or worse.

“What are we looking for?” I ask her as we make our way through the crowded shelves of our first stop.

She comes to a halt right at the historical romance section and bites her lower lip, thinking. My eyes linger on that innocent gesture, and I hate myself a bit more. “Would you kill me if I told you I’m not sure?”

I chuckle. “I thought you had the book outlined already.”

“And I do, but it’s not quite clicking, you know?”

“Is it too cliché? Maybe that’s why you’re unsure. Because it’s been done many times before.”

But she shakes her head. “Clichés aren’t that bad. Each author can make them unique if they’re original enough, and most readers enjoy them anyway.”

I can’t help myself. “What’s one cliché you enjoy?”

“Just one?” She snorts. “Okay, let’s see. When they have to stay the night somewhere and… Gasp! There’s only one bed.” Her whole face lights up as she speaks, and I swear she’s never looked more beautiful than right now. “When they hate each other at first, but then inevitably fall in love and it’s all very messy. Oh, and when the guy is the girl’s bodyguard, but they can’t be together. That always gets me for some reason.”

“Those are quite specific.” I smirk.

She shrugs and sends me a mischievous glance. “I know what I want.”

Me too.

No. Nope. I don’t.

We spend the next twenty minutes browsing the historical romance section until she gives up and drags me to the smutty bookshelves. She browses through each paperback, taking her time scanning the blurbs and telling me all about the ones she’s heard about.

I fucking love it. I love how she enjoys these kinds of books unapologetically, and how she includes me in her passion.

After nearly half an hour, she ends up choosing seven novels. “I can’t buy them all, so I think I’ll narrow it to just two or three.”

“Why can’t you buy all of them?” I frown. Also, why doesn’t she own an electronic reader if she reads so much? It would save her a lot of money for sure.

She looks at me like I don’t get it. “Cal, these are around fifteen bucks each. That’s a lot of money.”

On a whim, I grab all seven books and gesture to the register. “Let’s go. We have another bookstore to raid.”

She blinks once, twice. “Cal, I’m not buying all those books.”

“I know. I’m buying them.”

“What? Absolutely not! That’s more than a hundred bucks. I can’t let you do that.”

I shrug. “These aren’t for you. I happen to have developed a recent obsession with porn without plot and I want these.”

“Oh, is that right?” She arches a playful eyebrow, but rushes to snatch the books from my grip. “Seriously, I’d feel terrible if you bought them for me. It’s too expensive.”

And because I know she’s not giving up, I stare down at her with the most stoic expression I can muster. “Grace, I make more than a hundred bucks every day before lunch time. Let me get these for you, please.”

She swallows, and I can practically see the gears turning in her head. “Why do you want to do it?” she asks in a small voice.

“Because I love how your eyes fill with light when you read your sneaky smutty books,” I reply honestly before I can stop myself. “And when you’re happy, I’m happy.”

“Simple as that, huh?” The slight blush on her pale cheeks makes me want to cradle her face and do something very stupid right now. “Okay, fine. But I want to check out the children’s section and get something for Maddie. You always read her the same bedtime story, and that won’t get you any new brotherly points.”

“In my defense, she loves that book.” I tell her as I follow her across the store.

“Uh-huh, sure.”

I’m not thinking clearly—or at all—as Grace browses the different colorful books. It’s obvious by their interactions that my sister and her get along, but the fact that she wants to buy something for my princess…

I stop my thoughts before it’s too late.

“I think she’ll like this one.” She proudly shows me one of those pop-up books about some mermaid princesses. “Is it brother-approved?”

“It is.” I give her a warm smile. “Thank you. You don’t have to get her anything.”

“I was going to grab a book for her anyway. I loved reading when I was her age, and it’s so cute that she does too.”

She opens the book one more time, and an enormous pop-up marine castle jumps out of the page. “Yeah, Maddie’s going to lose her mind over this.” Grace smiles. “I mean, it’s no Gracie and Sammy adventure book, but it’ll do.”

“Well, that one would be a bit difficult to find.” Then, something in my mind takes shape and I blurt out, “Unless you write it.”

Grace looks at me with a blank expression, and for a moment I wonder if I’ve said the wrong thing. “You’re serious?”

“Well, yeah.” I shrug. “Why? Is it such a shit idea?”

“No, no,” she mutters. Her gaze seems lost, locked somewhere behind me. “I just never thought of it, I guess.”

“Can you write a children’s book for your final project?”

“Let me check.” She pulls out her phone and starts typing furiously, then skims through what I assume are the project’s guidelines. “It says I can write books for any age group and genre, but I have to reach a minimum word count.”

“Good, so there you go.”

She blinks up at me. “I just… I assumed I was going to write something for adults, but this makes sense. I like this idea a lot, Cal.”

I give her a small smile. “I’ve never been more excited to read a children’s book in my life.”

She blinks. “You’d want to read it?”

“Of course.”

She blushes, and the sight makes my heart sing. “I’ll have to think about what kind of mystery I want Gracie and Sammy to solve. They’re supposed to be these badass detectives, remember?”

“I never forgot.” My damn face hurts from all the smiling I always do around her. This is the kind of pain I’ll take every single day if I could. Then, something else comes to mind. “Hey, are illustrations allowed in your project?”

She browses her phone again. “It doesn’t say here, but I could ask my professor. Why?”

“Because I’d love to draw a few to go with your story, if you want.”

Grace looks at me like she’s never seen me before. “Put the books down.”

Without question I do, and not even a second later she throws herself in my arms. I hug her back at once, inhaling her intoxicating perfume. “You’re the best, Cal,” she murmurs against my chest. “Thank you for everything you do for me.”

I hide my foolish smile by pressing my face on top of her hair. “You deserve this and much more, sunshine.”

She squeezes me tight, and I let out a wheeze. Damn, she’s stronger than she looks. “If you illustrate my book, I’m paying for it.” I open my mouth to protest, but she beats me to it. “No, I don’t wanna hear it. It’s non-negotiable.”

“But you won’t be making money with that book since it’s for class. It wouldn’t be fair,” I point out.

“Don’t care.” She shrugs, still in my arms. “I value your time, and I want to pay you as anyone else would.”

Already knowing there’s no way I’m winning this argument, I give in. “Fine, but you’re getting a discount.”

“Deal.” She pulls away and I instantly miss the warmth of her small body against mine. Then she holds out her hand so I can shake it. “You can’t back out now, Sammy. A handshake is right up there with a pinky promise, and you know how sacred those are.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t dare to break this super licit contract.” I smirk.

She smirks back. “Dumbass.”

“Ditto.”

She opens that pink mouth to say something else, but she doesn’t get the chance to when her phone buzzes in her hand. A frown breaks out in her face as she reads it, and I swear I can see the panic in her eyes slowly settling in as the seconds pass.

“Hey, everything all right?” I put a hand on her shoulder and shake her slightly.

“Huh? Yeah, it’s nothing.”

“Grace.”

“Um?”

“You look pale. Who is that?”

She shrugs, and for a moment I fear she’s not going to tell me. But then she does, and I see red.

“It’s Luke. He wants to take me out for dinner tonight.”