Only With Me (Sugarland Creek #4)

Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Waylon

“ W ay-Way…” Wilder drawls, walking sideways out of Delilah’s truck. “You missed a goooood party.”

“I’m sure,” I deadpan, though I had a much better night staying home.

Delilah’s arm wraps around his waist, going toward the stairs, but at this rate, he’s going to trip and bring them both down.

“I’ll grab him.” I push off my door frame and take her place. “Thank you again for keepin’ an eye on him. Appreciate it.”

She licks her lips and brushes a sweaty strand of hair off her face. “No problem. He was on his best behavior.”

I snort. “That’d be a first.”

She walks behind us as I help Waylon upstairs, and eventually, I get him through the door. He stumbles into the living room, then drops to the sofa and kicks up his feet.

“You gonna sleep here with your clothes and boots on?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he mumbles, already drifting off to sleep.

Sighing, I grab his hand and pull him up to his full height. “C’mon, go to your bed so you don’t wake up with a stiff back. We’re not spring chickens anymore.”

“I saw your buddy, Teddy,” he mumbles.

I roll my eyes. “You mean Jake?”

He laughs at himself. “Yeah, him. You gave him a nice shiner.”

“And I’ll give him another if he goes near you.”

“Don’t worry, she told him off and to get lost before he could even speak to me.” He sighs. “Not that I planned to anyway.”

Delilah giggles, following as I direct Wilder where to go.

Glancing back at her, I mouth, “Thank you.”

“I’m gonna marry her…” he drunkenly announces before plopping down on his bed with his shoes on the floor.

“Who?” I ask.

“ Delly …” he singsongs, then points to her standing next to me.

That’s a new nickname I’ve never heard before.

Shaking my head, I kneel to untie his boots. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” he asks, his tone tripping with offense.

“Because she’s my ex-girlfriend.”

I almost feel bad saying that considering what I did with her little sister tonight. If I’m not allowed to date Harlow, he’s not allowed to date my ex.

Except Delilah would never be interested in him anyway, so there’s no use in hurting his feelings.

He scoffs. “So what?”

“So you’re too much of a handful as it is and she has enough on her plate,” I say, removing one boot and then going to the other.

“You’re the one who said it was my fault you have no datin’ life because I’m too much work , so if I get married, I’m no longer your problem.”

“I didn’t say you were too much work.”

Not in those exact words anyway.

“And you should focus on yourself before gettin’ a wife,” I tell him, taking off the second boot.

“We’re not gettin’ any younger…” he singsongs. “You said it—we’re not fall chickens.”

Standing, I pull him into a sitting position and lift his shirt, then yank it over his head.

“ Spring chickens,” I clarify.

“Yeah, that.” He drops back on the mattress.

“Women don’t like comin’ home to husbands who drink themselves stupid. So until then, you can’t get married.”

“That’s not fair!” He pouts like a prepubescent child. “Plus, I’m not even drunk…” He attempts to wiggle out of his jeans without undoing the button. “And fine, I’ll quit if it means you’ll lemme get married.”

I stifle a laugh at how ridiculous this conversation is. “Please do.”

“And then she’ll marry me.” He throws his pants, leaving him in his boxer briefs. “Right, Delly baby?”

“ Baby ?” I look between them.

“Sorry, I don’t marry men who wear red briefs,” she quips.

When I glance back at her, I can tell she’s toying with him.

To be fair, he makes it too easy. Especially when he’s wasted.

“Nadda problem, I’ll take ‘em off.” His hands go to his waist, and I quickly stop him.

“Dude, no. Wait until I’m outta here.”

“Me too,” Delilah adds.

“Don’t ya wanna see my new tattoo and piercing?” He waggles his brows with half-open eyelids. “They’re under the briefs…”

I pinch the bridge of my nose at his taunting voice. “Jesus Christ. Just get under the covers and go to sleep,” I beg.

I find his phone in the pocket of his jeans and set his alarm. “You get six hours and then your ass better meet me in the barn.”

Pulling back the covers, I motion for him to get under, and he finally does.

“I’ll be there at noon,” he confirms, collapsing against his pillows.

“ Ten ,” I counter. “I wanna be done by noon.”

“Then you won’t even need me by the time I get there.”

I blow out a frustrated breath because it’s not even worth arguing with him. “Shut up and go to sleep.”

“There’s room in my bed if you wanna snuggle, Delly.”

“As temptin’ as that is, I prefer wakin’ up without vomit all over me.”

Her snarky response causes me to laugh. “Damn, you’re brutal.”

“I gotta be to handle him.” She waves toward him and by the time I look back at him, he’s already snoring.

“Well, I’ll walk ya out.”

I flick off the lights and close the door behind us.

Once we’re at the driver’s side of her truck, I open the door for her. “Did you at least get to enjoy your night?”

She nods, smiling. “Wilder knows how to have a good time and he made sure I did, too. He rode the bull and made it six seconds.”

I stuff my hands in my pockets and grin. “Wow, he’s gettin’ better.”

She snickers. “I know he’s a party animal and has a lot of growin’ up to do, but he was mostly a gentleman all night.”

“Well, that’s somewhat reassuring.”

The air grows tense between us.

Delilah and I rarely talk and it’s never just the two of us.

“You must be tired. Are you okay to drive home? I have a couch you could crash on…”

“Nah, I’m fine.” She jumps into the seat and starts the engine. “I switched to water at one and then I had a Red Bull before we left.”

“Thank you again, Delly . I owe ya one.”

“You sure do, Way-Way .”

My alarm goes off way too fucking soon. I roll over and hit the snooze, grumbling at the sun beaming through my blinds.

Even though I went to bed at four, I slept better than I have in a long time.

And woke up with Harlow on my mind.

I knew I missed talking to her but getting to chat the way we did last night makes me realize just how much I depended on seeing her messages every day. They always made me smile and excited for the next one.

This morning’s no different. My chest squeezes at the memory of hearing her moan and orgasming to my voice. I’ve never done anything like that before, but I can’t wait to do it again.

Hopefully with her moaning my name.

She was so open and honest about wanting to learn, and honestly, it was refreshing to talk to someone so vulnerable. It made me feel like I could be, too.

It was impossible not to be turned on as she obeyed my commands. The more she followed instructions, the harder I got. It was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced on the phone.

She was so eager to learn and do as I say, my cock was nearly busting through my zipper by the time she was finger-fucking her pussy and telling me how wet she was.

I couldn’t get enough of it.

Between talking her through it and hearing her breathy moans, I couldn’t hold back anymore. I lowered my jeans and stroked my shaft until I came all over myself at the same time she finished.

I doubt she noticed though since she’s never been with a guy to know how badly I was struggling to speak. I had to put her on mute for a few seconds so she didn’t hear me.

However, I am surprised she didn’t call me out for calling her baby . That slipped out by accident but she didn’t seem to notice.

Even though I have no claim to her, I hate the thought of her talking to other guys. She sees me as a friend, a teacher even, but I know if she knew I was the guy from the group chat, she’d think differently.

The more I think about last night and how easy it was talking to her, even before we got on video chat, the more I realize I want to do it again and that I want her to do that only with me.

Instead of getting ready for work like I normally would after my alarm goes off, I decide to shower and deal with this erection that won’t go away. Thinking of her first thing in the morning has my cock hard and needy. The last thing I should be imagining is her in my bed or how I’d worship her body and take her virginity—but here we are—jerking off in the shower to those very thoughts.

As I fuck my fist to the memories of her soft whimpers and her telling me exactly how it feels, the tighter I squeeze. The tip is red and desperate, badly needing a release, and my thighs burn with tense muscles. I flatten my palm against the wall, aggressively abusing my cock, and come harder than I have in years.

Except this time when I moan through my release, it’s with her name on the tip of my tongue.

Harlow: I have a sex question.

The corners of my lips curve up when I get the notification she’s messaged me through the app.

I’ve been off work for a few hours and sitting on my couch with a beer trying to come up with any reason to message her first.

Thank God she doesn’t overthink like me.

Waylon: Okay, shoot.

Harlow: Do men think scars are gross? I’m concerned mine could turn someone off during sex because they’re on my upper thighs, the sides of my chest, and abdomen. Granted, most are faded, but if their faces are all up in there, it’s likely they’ll see or at the very least, feel them.

The fuck? Who made her worry about that?

Harlow: Also, Happy New Year’s Day! Hope you got a little sleep after waiting up for Wilder. Delilah told me she didn’t get home until almost four-thirty.

The drastic change from one message to another gives me whiplash, but I send her separate replies anyway.

Waylon: First, any guy who comments about body scarring is a piece of shit and shouldn’t be anywhere near your naked body anyway. Second, if they can’t understand the trauma you went through and how you survived against many odds—again, they shouldn’t be anywhere near you.

Waylon: Also, I got about five and a half hours, so about normal. How about you?

Harlow: After the first and unarguably best orgasm of my life, I slept for nine hours.

Fuck me.

Harlow: That’s a relief to hear. It was just something I was thinking about and wondered if I should warn a guy first. Like a piercing…I’d wanna know if they have a Prince Albert ring beforehand.

Waylon: Did you Google that?

Harlow: Yep, after Natalie mentioned the various piercings men can have down there, I got curious.

Of course she did.

Waylon: And did you look at the images?

Harlow: Unfortunately, yes I did.

Waylon: You’re comparing a piercing, someone got on purpose, to scars on your body during an assault…so not the same thing. A piercing affects a woman during sex, so it would make sense you’d wanna know. But your scars have no effect on a man. They don’t need to know unless you want them to but it shouldn’t deter a guy wanting to be with you if he’s a decent person.

I hate that in reassuring her I’m also giving her pointers on finding a worthy man to lose her virginity to because in my eyes no one is deserving.

Harlow: But it could be considered unattractive, right?

I bite my cheek because she’s right—some superficial men would have issues with it—but I don’t want her to feel insecure about any inch of herself. Harlow’s perfect and beautiful, and I love how she’s not jaded about relationships—yet.

Waylon: Yes, just like anything else about a person. Everyone has preferences. What I find attractive, someone else might not, and vice versa.

Harlow: What’s your opinion about them?

Jesus Christ, she’s making it harder to act unaffected.

Waylon: It doesn’t bother me. I’d probably make an effort to kiss them and reassure her how much they don’t bother me.

Harlow: That would make me melt like butter.

I chuckle.

Waylon: That’s the point. We all have imperfections, no use trying to hide what makes you special and unique.

Harlow: I don’t think I’m ready to tell just anyone what happened to me. I was talking to this one guy, as a friend, before I signed up for this app, and even after a month of texting, I never told him. Kinda glad I didn’t because the day we were supposed to finally meet in person, the day you and I ran into each other at The Grindhouse, he stood me up. He texted later apologizing because he had a work thing come up, but then said he didn’t think rescheduling was a good idea. I haven’t talked to him since. I keep wondering what I did to make him ghost me.

And there it is.

Fuck .

I unintentionally made her insecure and now I need to do whatever I can to fix it.

Waylon: It’s perfectly normal to want to protect yourself. Sharing that part of your life, the worst moment you’ve ever experienced, isn’t exactly a first date conversation. And even if you have sex before you share what happened to you, a guy should always respect your body and your boundaries.

God, I sound like an old youth minister.

No wonder she has no interest in me when I give her “the talk” like a father would.

Harlow: I don’t know that I’d be able to tell anyone exactly what happened without it giving me an anxiety attack. I had nightmares for years.

Waylon: Do you still?

Harlow: I hadn’t for a long time until a month ago.

Waylon: Just out of the blue?

Harlow: Yes, well…kinda. He’s up for probation soon and I’m anxious he’ll get it.

Holy fuck, already?

He deserved way more time than he got.

Waylon: When do you find out if he’ll be released?

Harlow: I check his case every week, but I think our lawyer would inform us on the exact date if he does.

Waylon: I hope you plan to get a protective order from him right away.

Harlow: That’s always been the plan. But the scary thing is, I don’t know who the other two accomplices were. They all wore masks. Three teenage boys broke in and when I came out with a bat, two of them ran off and were never caught. The other, well, he’s the one behind bars.

I’m furious just thinking about what this punk did to her and even more now that I know he could be back on the streets soon.

Waylon: I wish I had some comforting words to say but I don’t blame you for having those fears. I’d put all three in the hospital if I knew who the other two were.

Harlow: You know, violence is never the answer

She quips with a tongue-sticking-out emoji.

Waylon: It is when they tried to kill a teenage girl.

Harlow: To keep from a complete melt down, I’ve convinced myself that the other two were bad kids and are probably in prison for other crimes. There’s no way my house was their first and only attempt.

Waylon: I would be surprised if it was, too, but it’s possible they don’t even live around here. They’d be in their mid-twenties now. They could be anywhere.

Harlow: Hopefully nowhere near me.

God save their souls if they ever come near her again.