No Pink Caddy (ACE Book 1) (20 page)

“I’ve also spent a small fortune to ensure her childhood was as normal as could be. I’ve never shared a digital picture of her. Her last name is Emerson not Knite. She grew up in a small town and I’ve kept her out of the spotlight. I don’t discuss her in interviews other than acknowledging I have a daughter. I know you share a lot on your site. I’m asking a personal favor to not talk about her.”

I don’t see how it’s possible for my heart to expand this much. I swear it’s pressing against my ribs and attempting to exit my body. His level of devotion to Jude is the sexist feature he has. “Absolutely.”

“She liked you,” Aaron says as Seamus enters through the back of house, carrying bags of food.

Aaron stands up to help him unpack dinner, giving me a moment to think. First of all, how happy am I that I handled Aaron with another woman with so much class. If I’d gone off on her or him, that would’ve been way awkward. Second of all, Aaron’s a dad. I always said I would never fall for a guy who had a kid. But I have to say, it’s amazing how differently I feel when I actually know the hypothetical dad and hear his story. Instead of making him less attractive, it makes him more.

He brings foil dishes filled with yummy-smelling food to the table and rests a set of chopsticks in front of me. Apparently, we will not be plating dinner. We’re just going to eat out of the tins, family-style.

“Seamus got a bottle . . .”

I cut him off by touching his arm. “Aaron, I’m not comfortable drinking in front of you. If you’ve been to rehab and Jude’s worried enough about you to jump on a plane and get rid of the bottles of wine you had, I think me having a glass is a bad idea.”

Aaron uncorks the bottle and pours me a glass, sitting it down in front of me. “Wine’s not my vice. Now, if you waved a bottle of Jack Daniels and sprinkled it with coke, we’d have to talk.”

I take a sip of the wine, and he digs into the fried rice. The lo mein noodles are so tasty.

“Sweetheart, you’re making pleasure noises. I thought I was the only one who elicited those moans.”

Laughing, I drop my chopsticks then slap both hands over my mouth. “I’m sorry, but this is so good. It’s been a while since I’ve been hungry.”

He points his chopsticks in my direction. “You’re like Jude. She doesn’t eat when she’s stressed. It drives me crazy.” He throws the offhand comment out there, but I flash back to him filling my fridge and cupboards, and how he toweled me off on Saturday night. Revelation time: Aaron is fatherly.

We both go for the same dumpling, and we have a short sword battle over it. “Does Jude know we’re kind of seeing each other?”

“Yes. I had to explain why she thought I was acting strange.”

“And?”

Sighing, he drops his chopsticks. “Jude wants me to be happy more than anything in the world. She thinks me having a girlfriend will make my life better.”

I grab his chin and turn his face so we’re eye to eye. “You told me you’ve never dated before. Is that why you came to Eddy’s? To make Jude happy? To find a girlfriend?”

His eyes drop to the floor. “Initially.” He picks up the eating utensils and concentrates very hard on moving a piece of rice from one side of the metal tin to the other.

I wait him out. Eventually, he’ll have to explain.

“Look,” he says, not making eye contact. “It was pointed out in rehab that I’ve never had a meaningful relationship with a female outside of my family. The doctor suggested I give it a try, and Jude agreed.”

My head tilts and my chin drops. My words are clipped. “So I’m a science experiment?”

Aaron belly-laughs. “Is that what we’re calling this? I thought it was called dating.”

“This is not okay with me. I don’t want to be some assignment your therapist gave you.”

He gets serious. Resting his chopsticks on the side of the tin, he tucks my bangs behind my ear. “Trust me, sweetheart, you’re anything but an assignment. I’ve missed you while Jude was in town, and it’s the first time ever I’ve been excited to put her on a plane.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “Did you miss me?”

Looking into his eyes, I feel swallowed whole by his presence. I can honestly answer yes, I missed him. I missed all of him, but most of all I missed how alive he makes me feel. “I didn’t understand why you didn’t call or text.”

His head turns, and he bites his bottom lip. “Why didn’t you call or text me?”

What a novel idea. Why didn’t I?
Because I felt like he was a rock star and I was a nobody and I was a one-night-stand for him. Calling or texting would make me look clingy.

I don’t share any of this. “A proper southern girl doesn’t call boys. We’re pursued.”

Aaron’s glint in his eye and sexy smirk telegraph he’s got a dirty thought in his head. “So do proper southern girls masturbate in front of their guy and tell him they’ve used toys thinking about him?”

Blushing, my eyes travel to the floor. “Rude. Proper southern gentlemen definitely do not bring up acts in the bedroom during dinnertime conversation.”

Aaron stands up, pushing my chair back, and cages me in with his arms. “Do proper gentlemen eat out southern ladies’ pussies during dinnertime?”

I match his heavy eyes and raspy breath. His dirty mouth is such a turn-on. “That’s against finishing-school etiquette.”

His wolfish grin says it all. “Thank God I’m no gentleman.”

One minute we’re eating Chinese. The next minute I’m standing and he’s making quick work of all my clothing, panties, and bra. He directs me to sit back down in the chair while he places my feet on the table. Before kneeling on the hardwood floor in between my spread thighs, he takes off his white T-shirt, adding it to the clothing pile.

“It’s my turn to act out one of my fantasies.” He drags a finger through my folds then sucks the same finger as his eyes roll back in his head. “You taste like cherry candy.”

Gasping, I reach forward wrapping my hands in his hair.

Stopping them, he says, “No. No. MK.” His tongue swipes over his bottom lip. “My scenario. I want you to pretend you’re having dinner with a friend, and I’m hiding under the table, eating you out.”

I must look confused, because he adds, “I want to make you come while you try your hardest to pretend I’m not here.”

I nod.
I hope I can do this.
I’ve never role-played before, but there’s a first time for everything. “So, I got up this morning and showered,” I begin as his hot breath blows across my overly sensitive skin.

My breasts feel heavy, and I grip the seat of the chair to keep my hands out of his hair. “I skipped breakfast and had coffee . . .” When the first tongue swipe passes over my folds, I yell, “Aaron.”

He growls and begins an erotic assault with his tongue and teeth on my vagina. My voice is high-pitched, and I’m completely out of breath. “I walked to work.”

Writhing in pleasure, my nipples ache to be pinched. I reach up, applying just the right amount of pain, causing my body to tremble. “I was ten minutes early.”

He brings me just to the edge and slides a finger inside, and I buck up from the chair, applying more pressure to my nipples. “Oh fuck,” I yell. “I thought about Aaron all morning.” He’s keeping me right on the precipice by using his other hand to hold my hips in place, not allowing me to ride his face and finger to find my release.

My head falls back. “I kept checking my phone hoping I’d get a call from a certain rocker.” My whole body tingles and my pulse beats in my ears. Closing my eyes, flickers of light dance inside my eyelids, as if I’m truly seeing stars. If I want my release, I have to keep talking. “He didn’t, but he . . .” I’m panting. My mind is only focused on orgasming. Words fail me. While still pinching my nipples, I give them a tug. My hips don’t understand why they can’t move and fight against Aaron’s resistance.

Completely giving up, I repeat his name, yelling it as loud as I can as it echoes off the walls. A few torturous moments later he lets go, slides in a second finger while still lapping my clit. My hips buck up from the chair and I grab his hair, riding his face as I experience the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had.

Ever so carefully, he brings me down into my world of bliss. I’m spent from such an intense experience, and he picks me up, cradling me to his chest, and walks us over to the couch.

I don’t know how long we stay like this. He strokes my hair and hums a tune while I snuggle deeper against him.

After a bit, he says, “I like it that you screamed my name over and over again.”

“Aaron,” I repeat.

“Say it again,” he murmurs.

In a dreamy voice, I say, “Aaron, Aaron, Aaron.”

“No one ever calls me Aaron anymore.” It’s more of a throwaway comment, but I make note of it anyway. He’ll always be Aaron to me.

The heart tattoo over his actual heart catches my attention. I take a closer look. In tiny print on one of the fingers it reads
Jude
. It’s really a stunning piece of art. Running my finger over the image, I trace the letters which spell his daughter’s name.

“I got that when she was five, and I realized this pint-sized, blond-headed little girl controlled whether or not my heart would ever beat again.” I love the softness in his voice when he talks about her.

Our mouths connect with a sweetness and tenderness which makes my insides gooey. I’m so far gone. I should get an anatomically correct heart being squeezed by a fist tattooed on my chest. I could write his name on a finger because I’ve fallen so hard for this man that I don’t think I’ll ever recover.

Aaron trails kisses across my jaw and to my ear, where he whispers, “But what I realized when I met you is this ink is only partially correct. Jude owns my heart, but so do you. It began beating double-time when I kissed your lips in the restaurant’s bathroom . . . one beat for her, and one for you.”

I gasp at getting confirmation his feelings are the same as my own. But, I don’t reply that I agree and completely understand. I don’t tell him just how much I enjoy being in his presence. My heart doesn’t spill all over his tanned sectional. Instead, I snuggle deeper into his chest, keeping my feelings tightly locked away until I’m sure his sentiments are true.

The silence falls heavy around us. Aaron doesn’t fill it by tapping his fingers against my thigh or humming a tune. I begin worrying he’s upset I didn’t respond to his heartfelt declaration.

Tracing his heart tattoo again, I reply, “Those words you said are beautiful. I’m honored you place my importance on the same level as your daughter’s.”

My acknowledgment seems to relax him. For someone who’s achieved such a high level of success, he seems unsure of himself when it comes to me. I remind myself that he said he’s never had a girlfriend before. I guess it’s possible to be a literal rock star in some areas of your life and inept in others.

“I have something to tell you,” I say as he covers us with a fuzzy blanket he grabbed from the arm of the couch.

“What?” He kisses the tip of my nose.

“I quit my job today.”

His eyes widen in surprise.

“I’ve done some soul searching and have come to the conclusion that I’m tired of working forty hours a week at a job that I don’t love. My site’s making enough money. I can live on it, and if I was devoted full-time to it, I could really make NoPinkCaddy a huge success.”

He’s quiet for bit, and I can almost see the wheels turning. Then he says, “I’m very proud of you. Do you need any money?”

Scooting out of his lap and onto the cushion next to him, I wrap myself in the blanket as if it will protect me from the sentiment behind the question. I draw my knees to my chest. “Did you not hear the part where I said my site is making enough money I can live off it, and I’m only doing it part-time?”

I’m frustrated. I want him to be happy for me, not to try to throw his money around as if I’m being paid for services rendered. He’s already helped my sister out. “I’ve no clue how much money you make or what you do with it. And I’m not Googling to find out.” I pause for a beat. “Let me make one thing crystal clear. I’ve grown up surrounded by wealthy people who wield their checkbooks like swords to either intimidate others or get people to do what they want. I don’t want to live that way.”

Aaron’s eyes drop as he hangs his head. My heart aches that I’ve made him ashamed or upset for offering to help me. Feeling like a jerk for my outburst, I lift his chin so he can read my eyes. In a much softer voice, I say, “Thank you. I appreciate you filling my kitchen with food and picking up dinner, but this is my journey. Would you have wanted someone to hand you a record contract and money and fame if you hadn’t earned it?”

Aaron leans forward and kisses my lips. “That’s actually a pretty tough question. I’ll not offer again, but you have to come to me if you get in a bind.”

Nodding, I kiss him back. “Even then it would only be a loan.”

He rolls his eyes. “Fine. A loan.”

“My new mantra is,
alis volat propriis
.”

“What?” he asks as he raises a brow.

“It means ‘with her own wings she flies.’”

His smile is tender. He tucks my bangs behind my ear as his hand slides over my left cheek. “I love that.”

Glancing at the clock on the cable box, it’s ten-thirty. After that fantastic orgasm he gave me earlier, I’m sure he was left in an aroused state. Leaning over, I undo the top button on his jeans and pull down the zipper. My hand snakes its way into his pants, freeing his dick. Poor thing is bright red and looks as if it’s in need of some serious attention.

I work his jeans down to the floor and kneel between his spread legs. My hand wraps around his cock, and I begin stroking it up and down. He looks at me and grins. “You know what to do with that?”

“You be the judge,” I quip as I run my tongue over the head.

“Fuck, MK,” he hisses.

I take him into my mouth, past my gag reflex, and down my throat. He grips the edge of the couch cushion. My lips wrap around my teeth as I gently apply pressure as I release him, working my way to the tip. I repeat this again and again. Each time he moans as his knuckles become whiter and whiter.

“Get on top,” he commands.

“Where are the condoms?” I ask as I release the head with a pop.