Sugar Talking | John Logan
pairing: John Logan × Graham!Reader
story summary: one night, after feeling miserable, John Logan decided to give a call.
Part 1 Part 2
chapter summary: you and Logan promised not to make it awkward after the frat party, but that might be impossible when he confesses his forbidden crush to Sugar.
warnings/mdni: Smut. Oral sex (f receiving). Use of she/her pronouns. Spelling. Probably inaccurate description or timeline mistakes regarding the show. If I missed anything, just let me know!
WC: 4k
a/n: hello!! tysm for all the kind comments! i'm not a big smut writer — although i'm a huge enthusiastic of it — and i tried my best here, i hope you like it 🩵
“He’s gonna keep calling DAG. Something tells me that boy is stubborn,” Minnie said, sighing heavily as I shook my head.
“You were the one who told me to invest in him as myself, not as Sugar,” I reminded her, pushing the heavy book cart down section four as she followed close behind me.
“You just told me he saw your brother later on at the party and immediately remembered why kissing you was a bad idea,” Minnie countered. She grabbed a stack of books to help me reshelve, taking the right side of the aisle while I took the left.
“I told you his moral compass was huge. I really don’t know how I even got him to kiss and grind on me for five minutes straight in the first place,” I said, chuckling at the memory.
“Sometimes the other head speaks louder.”
“It’s not a lie!” she defended, making us both laugh out loud in the middle of the quiet library. “As Sugar, maybe you can learn more about his feelings in general and use that to your advantage.”
“One, he’s not gonna call to talk about his feelings,” I pointed out. “And two... that’s basically cheating, isn’t it?”
“All’s fair in love, hon,” Minnie said with a nonchalant shrug. “In horniness, too.”
I couldn’t hold back the loud laugh that erupted from my chest.
“Oh, Minnie, I wish everyone knew you like I do,” I said, shaking my head with a wide smile. “Alright. Give him my direct line. Let’s see what we get.”
I wasn’t drunk, high, or dealing with anything clouding my mind—except maybe sheer arousal—that I could use as an excuse for kissing Garrett Graham’s sister. AKA, my best friend's sister.
After we found Garrett and Tucker trying to hold Dean back from fighting god-knows-who, I took a good look at Garrett and finally felt it.
It wasn’t exactly regret, but more like the crushing weight of violating the number one rule of the bro code: don’t make out with your best friend's sister.
So yeah, I wasn’t going to make it weird, but it definitely couldn’t happen again. Especially considering how damn good it felt. How hot my blood ran, the chills that wrecked me when I had my hands all over her, and how perfectly we seemed to fit in every single way.
We were perfectly reasonable afterward.
Okay, maybe I was staring at her a little too much, and maybe the “sweetie” I always called her started coming out way too soft. Or way too raspy.
And maybe I was replaying that night right in front of my eyes—staring at absolutely nothing, then suddenly seeing ribbed mini dresses, a kissable neck, swollen lips, and soft hands tangled at the nape of my neck.
But it was fine. It was definitely not happening again.
Because honestly, what was worse? Fantasizing about my best friend’s sister, or his girlfriend? Because yeah, Hannah hadn't completely left my mind either. I just had way more material to work with when it came to Little G.
I was staring into space again, remembering exactly how incredible she sounded whispering in my ear about sneaking down to her room, when a throw pillow suddenly clocked me in the side of the head, snapping me out of my daydream.
Garrett and Hannah were staring at me, laughing.
“What are you thinking about, Logan?” Hannah asked, her voice as sweet as it always was.
“Or maybe who are you thinking about?” Garrett teased, nudging Hannah in the ribs like I was their own private joke.
“Just thinking about the next game,” I lied, trying to make my smile look genuine. Every time I looked at Garrett, the guilt twisted a little deeper.
“Almost drooling like that?” Garrett challenged, narrowing his eyes. “You’re a terrible liar, man.”
“Leave him alone, love,” Hannah said, checking her phone. “We’re gonna be late for our movie.”
“Alright, see you later, bro,” Garrett said, clapping me on the shoulder while Hannah waved goodbye.
As they walked out holding hands, that familiar stinging sensation took hold of my chest.
I was breaking the bro code either way.
Faint music played in my bedroom as I stacked books back onto my shelves and organized the new skincare products I’d bought, getting ready for bed after a long day of studying and cataloging the new archive that had arrived at the library.
Then, the telephone rang. Not my cell phone, but the special black rotary phone with tiny pink designs I’d gotten when Dial-A-Goddess accepted me as one of their girls.
It was Tuesday, which meant I didn’t have a shift at DAG. So there were really only two options: someone from the company was calling me, or Logan had decided to reach out to Sugar.
I made sure my door was locked. I had an amazingly soundproofed room as long as the basement door was completely shut. I sat down on the chair at my desk, took a deep breath, and picked up the receiver.
“Uh… Sugar?” I heard Logan’s voice, sounding a little too shaken up for someone looking for a good time.
“Hello, gorgeous,” I said, my phone-sex voice a little gentler than usual since I sensed he was feeling off. “I’m glad you called.”
“Thanks for giving me your direct line,” he said. I could practically hear the small, sad smile in his voice.
“Minnie gave you a hell of a sales pitch,” I said, trying to cheer him up. “I had to say yes.”
“She’s nice, isn’t she?” he chuckled softly.
“Are you okay, John?” I asked, genuinely worried. “You seem down compared to our other calls.”
“Well, do you mind if we do things differently today?” Logan asked, sighing heavily. “I really felt like hearing your voice, but maybe I’m not in the mood for the dirty talk tonight.”
“Sure, John,” I said, dying to know what was going on. “Come on, talk to me.”
“There’s this thing that’s been in my head for a while, you know?” he said. I heard the muffled sound of him lying down on his bed—which, ironically, was right above my ceiling. “That’s why I reached out to DAG in the first place. This isn’t really my thing, but I needed a distraction to help me stop.”
“Thinking about her,” he confessed, and an involuntary chill shot down my spine. “Fantasizing about her. Having dreams where she’s always the main character.”
“And why would that be wrong?” I asked. I couldn’t believe Logan’s moral compass was that strict. Come on, having a crush wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
“Because I’d be betraying someone else. Damn, I disgust myself just for feeling it,” he continued, sounding angry with his own words. “But she’s like forbidden fruit, you know?”
“Are you sure she’s forbidden? Isn’t that just something in your head?” I prompted, trying to stop myself from screaming STOP BEING DUMB through the receiver. “Does the person you’re worried about upsetting even care?”
“I’m pretty sure there’s no universe where wanting your best friend’s girlfriend isn't forbidden,” Logan said bitterly.
Logan’s best friend = Garrett Graham.
Garrett Graham’s girlfriend = Hannah.
John Logan was dreaming, fantasizing, and obsessing over Hannah?
Hannah Wells. The girl my brother loved—something I’d almost stopped believing would ever happen for him—and who loved him right back.
“See? Even you’re weirded out, and you don’t even know any of us!” Logan exclaimed. I could tell he was getting embarrassed by my silence.
What the actual fuck? We’d had that amazing, mind-blowing moment against a wall just a few days ago, and now he was sitting right above my head telling me he couldn't stop thinking about Hannah?
He had kissed me like he was starving. He’d almost moaned in my ear when I kissed his neck, gotten half-hard against me, and couldn't even look at me properly afterward without staring too long... and he was fantasizing about Hannah? Not me? Not even damn Sugar and her velvety voice?
“Sugar?” Logan called out, desperately trying to get my alter ego to say something.
I was furious. Honestly, I knew I had no right to be. I could hear how much it was killing Logan to feel this way about Hannah. But I couldn't stop the bitter, stinging wave of I don’t know what that crashed over me.
I had pushed him against a wall in a dark corner of a frat house.
I grabbed the phone’s cord, yanking it straight out of the wall outlet so he wouldn't hear me slam the receiver back onto the hook.
It was way too dark. My hands were tied behind the back of the chair I was sitting on.
“Hello?” I called out, my voice echoing through wherever the hell I was.
I heard footsteps approaching, the heavy thumping of boots hitting a wooden floor.
“I can’t see anything,” I said, my voice echoing once again.
“Of course you can’t, silly.” The velvety voice belonged to Sugar, but unlike mine, it didn't echo. It felt like she was whispering straight into my ear. “You’re blindfolded.”
“Aren’t you mad at me?” I asked, considering she hadn’t said a single word for a couple of minutes before our call got cut off last night.
“Oh, John, why would I be mad?” Her voice got closer and closer. I felt her hands on both of my shoulders, massaging them slowly. “Did you do something wrong?”
“Hm, kinda?” I answered, sounding a little unsure, though my body visibly relaxed as she touched me.
“I have a crush on my best friend’s girlfriend?” I offered, the same unsure tone ringing in my voice.
“Exactly, silly. But not because of him.” I felt her mouth hovering near my jaw and neck. “It’s because you should have a crush on me instead.”
She kissed my neck slowly. I threw my head back to give her better access, and my mind instantly went straight to the frat party—to the feeling of the younger Graham’s lips on my throat.
Suddenly, my blindfold was ripped off. Standing there, instead of whoever Sugar was supposed to be, I saw Little G. She was wearing the exact same black ribbed mini dress. She smiled at me, leaning in, right about to straddle my lap when… my phone alarm went off.
I jerked awake, tangling in my sheets, and fell straight onto the bedroom floor with a heavy thud.
Last night, I had confessed to Sugar about my crush on Hannah, and she just... disconnected. She was just gone. It wasn’t great for my conscience or my mood, but I was choosing to believe she’d just had a problem on her end of the line, which was why she couldn’t continue the call or call me back.
I stood up, stretched my sore back, and took advantage of the empty bathroom without having to compete against Dean, Tucker, or Garrett for once.
As soon as I walked downstairs into the kitchen, I found the very same girl who had been about to sit on my lap in my dream. She was making pancakes, wearing an oversized blue Briar U’s Hawks sweater and a short tennis skirt that gave me a hell of a good look at her bare legs.
Maybe my mood was going to lighten up after all.
"Good morning, sweetie," I said, my voice dripping with care and ulterior motives. The dream—and definitely that little tennis skirt—was seriously messing with my head. Yesterday, I’d been so sure I could never get close to her like we did at the frat party again. Now? I really couldn't care less.
Instead of greeting me with one of her bright smiles, she just looked at me, expression completely blank, and nodded. She immediately turned her eyes back to the stove, flipping the last pancake before sliding it onto a stack.
“What's up, huh?” I asked, stepping closer. The lack of a smile was definitely not her style. I walked around the kitchen, carrying the fruit and pancake toppings over to the dining table.
“Nothing,” she said, her tone practically screaming that there was definitely something going on.
After setting the table, I circled back around the kitchen until I was standing directly behind her as she washed her hands in the sink. The tip of my nose brushed gently against her hair. It smelled incredible, just like it always did. She didn't stiffen, but she also maintained her perfectly straight posture as my arm snaked around her waist.
“I thought we promised not to make this weird.”
“I am not making anything weird,” she answered flatly, even as my nose and lips began to trail along the line of her neck and jaw. God, she smelled three times better this morning. “I am just in a bad mood.”
"Bad mood, huh?” I whispered against her ear. Tough as she was, Little G didn't seem affected by my closeness at all—or at least she was damn good at pretending. “What can I do to lighten your mood, sweetie?”
My hand started traveling from her back, settling heavily on the curve of her ass.
"I'm not sure you can do anything,” she said, her tone finally shifting, sounding playful again. A very good sign that I was winning her over.
"Really?” I murmured. I held back the urge to squeeze her ass, and instead tried something much bolder, my lips never stopping their slow kisses on her jaw. “I can get you all set for the day, you know? Completely relaxed. Not a single care in the world.”
My hand slipped right past the hem of her tennis skirt, grazing the insanely soft skin of her thighs. But just when I thought I’d made it exactly where I wanted to be, my fingers hit the built-in shorts underneath.
"Damn skirt,” I muttered, making us both laugh.
She turned around, and now I had her pinned flush against the counter. Her eyes were locked on mine, and that bright smile I’d been hunting for finally came back to her face.
"No one plays tennis without built-in shorts, silly,” she teased, rolling her eyes playfully as I ducked my head to kiss her neck again. “And you're so full of yourself. I just know you're all bark and no bite.”
I pulled back just enough to look at her, instantly spotting the challenge dancing in her bright eyes.
All bark and no bite. There was literally nothing she could have said to offend me more.
I took in the vision in front of me. Her elbows propped back on the kitchen counter, my hand resting firmly on her waist, the oversized hockey merch, the skirt—which was still a hell of a view, even with the small obstacle its design brought me. Her lips, her eyes, her scent, her hair… basically everything about her.
Before she could even finish the word, my mouth crashed down on hers, capturing her lips in a savage kiss. It was a completely different rhythm from our first one; this was messy, desperate, and fueled entirely by the heavy desire I’d been denying since the party. But even though the pace was different, the feeling was exactly the same: a blinding rush of arousal, my blood running hot the second her hand fisted in my hair, pulling our bodies flush against each other.
I was just about to lift her onto the counter when the sharp sound of the front door unlocking snapped us back to reality.
We sprang apart instantly, holding back breathless laughs and desperately pretending we hadn’t just been all over each other as Dean, Tucker, and Garrett walked in, sweaty from their morning run.
My cell phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out while the trio immediately started joking about Little G making breakfast, since we usually treated her like royalty and never let her lift a finger around the house.
It was a text from Miranda—Minnie, the librarian. She had a house emergency and needed the best handyman around to help her out.
I smiled, staring down at the screen. I still had Dial-A-Goddess bills to pay, after all.
Minnie's house was a two-story place surrounded by a beautifully manicured garden. I rang the bell, and an elderly woman who definitely wasn't Minnie promptly opened the door. She looked me up and down, a mischievous glint in her eye.
“Well, hello gorgeous,” she purred with a sweet smile. “Didn’t know we were having go-go boys over today, Minnie.”
I couldn't hold back a laugh, especially since I was standing there in my full handyman getup, heavy tool bag slung over my shoulder. Minnie rushed to the door, and right behind her, about ten other older ladies clustered around. All of them had curious eyes, shamelessly sizing me up with not-so-hidden smiles.
“Don’t scare the boy, you pervert,” Minnie scolded, grabbing my arm and pulling me inside. “Thanks for coming so quickly, Logan.”
“No problem,” I said, taking in the nice decor. There were books stacked here and there, and with all the ladies gathered in the living room, I wondered if this was some sort of librarian book club or something. “What’s the issue?”
“The AC isn't working at all. With this many people in here, we’re going to melt in two hours,” Minnie explained, leading me over to the central AC unit. The ladies followed right behind her, still measuring me up, taking a very close look.
“Alright,” I said, stepping closer and opening my toolbox. As I reached my arms up to check the panel, my shirt rode up a few inches, exposing my stomach. A collective, very audible hum of approval echoed behind me.
“Oh my god, you girls embarrass me,” Minnie groaned, shooing them back toward the living room with frantic waves of her hands. “I’m so sorry, boy. It’s like they haven't seen a man in decades.”
“It’s okay, I tend to provoke this type of reaction in ladies,” I joked, easily diagnosing the issue. Nothing major. “Is this a librarian reunion?”
Minnie chuckled nervously before answering, “You could say so.”
“Well, nothing bad here,” I assured her, grabbing a wrench. “I’m gonna tweak a thing or two. Give me five minutes and your AC will be good as new.”
Just like I promised, five minutes later, cold air was blasting through the house again. When I walked back into the living room, the ladies were chatting happily, sipping drinks, and snacking on some appetizers.
That's when I noticed it. Right next to Minnie’s desk sat a vintage, black rotary telephone covered in tiny pink details.
“All set, Minnie,” I told her, flashing a smile as I packed up my bag.
“Oh, thank you so much,” the librarian said, pressing a wad of cash directly into my hand. “I hope this is enough.”
I glanced down at the bills. “Minnie, there’s way too much here, let me recount—”
“Take it and go enjoy your Wednesday, hon,” Minnie interrupted, winking at me. The rest of the ladies called out their goodbyes—a few of them blowing kisses—as Minnie walked me to the front door.
Well. That was definitely one of my weirder and funniest house calls.
The rest of the day went by in a blur. I had a few classes, hit the gym to stay physically prepped for our upcoming games, and then went straight to rink practice with the rest of the team, running drills and studying our next opponent.
Afterward, I decided to pay a visit to the college radio station to see Jules, since it had been a while since I checked in on my sibling. Right as I was leaving, that same twisted, ugly feeling I’d felt at the frat party came rushing right back.
Little G and Beau were chatting under a tree. Who chats under a fucking tree if they aren't flirting? They were standing way too close, sharing a towel. Beau was talking animatedly, and she was nodding and laughing like he was the funniest guy on earth.
She was still wearing that same damn tennis outfit from this morning, and a sick, unhealthy realization hit me: if I had gotten that amazing view of her legs, so had Beau.
Before they could catch me staring, I headed straight for my truck, my mind reeling back to our interruption this morning. That wild, messy kiss we’d shared. I wondered if she and Beau had kissed before. Was it good? Was Beau all bite and no bark?
Those questions kept lingering in my mind for the rest of the day. They haunted me while I fixed a few things around the hockey house, and they flared up again when she got back from classes, all sunshine and rainbows—which stung even more, considering she had been nothing but grumpy with me that morning, before we kissed, of course, but still, she had been grumpy.
They clouded my mind so badly that, instead of trying to reach out to Sugar again or letting my thoughts drift to Hannah, I waited until everyone else was asleep to go downstairs and knock on her BB door.
I waited a few seconds before I heard her footsteps. She unlocked the door and opened it, taking me in. I was standing there in just a pair of gray sweatpants.
“What’s up?” she asked, her eyes raking over my bare abs with absolutely zero shame.
“I wanna talk,” I said. My eyes dropped to the silk robe she was wearing. It was at least two sizes too big, hiding the exact curves of her body, but sitting loosely enough to make me wonder if she was really completely naked underneath like it seemed.
“In my room?” she asked, narrowing her eyes slightly. “With no shirt?”
“In your BB, with no shirt,” I confirmed, my gaze traveling dangerously down to where the two sides of the robe met, revealing a sliver of bare, soft skin.
She chuckled softly, turning around and descending the basement stairs, leaving the door open for me to follow and lock it behind us.
Her room was incredibly neat. It had three full bookshelves, a massive wardrobe, a door leading to a nice en-suite bathroom with a tub, and a desk where she kept her papers, her laptop, a million pens, more books, and… a black telephone? That was new.
Her bed was a queen-size, covered in expensive, high-thread-count bedding because she always claimed she wanted to feel like she was sleeping in a luxury hotel every night. There wasn't a single thing out of place in the entire room… except for a piece of clothing carelessly thrown over that vintage black telephone.
“So, you said you wanted to talk?” she asked, sitting on the edge of her bed, running her hands idly over the soft duvet.
“Are you and Beau… dating?” I asked. Out of the ten different ways I had mentally practiced starting this conversation, I had somehow chosen the absolute worst one.
“What kind of question is that?” she said, her brow furrowing in confusion. “If I were with him, I wouldn’t have kissed you twice.”
“But you guys do have a thing?” I pushed, stepping closer to her. I could see the contours of her body much better in the dim, warm light of her room compared to the dark hallway upstairs.
“We kiss here and there,” she admitted, looking dead into my eyes. “Beau’s a sweet guy.”
“And he doesn’t care about Garrett finding out a close friend is making out with his sister?” I had to ask, even though interrogating her hadn't been my original plan.
“When you have a hot woman in your bed, you usually aren't thinking about another guy’s opinion, Logan,” she said point-blank. She shifted her weight slightly on the mattress, and I swear to God, the movement exposed the soft curve of one of her breasts.
“Fair enough,” I gulped, suddenly nervous at the realization that she really could be entirely naked right in front of me, with just a sheer layer of silk standing between me and what might be the greatest view of my life.
“Did you really come all the way down here just to talk about Beau?” Little G asked, sighing softly. “Or did you come here to show me you actually have some bite, too?”
Her comment snapped me right back to why I had decided to wait for everyone to fall asleep in the first place. Was it motivated by pure, irrational jealousy? Maybe. Was it about showing off and protecting my ego? Yeah.
I stepped closer, closing the distance until I was standing right in front of her, stepping directly between her partially opened legs. I dropped to my knees in front of the bed, watching her gaze track my movement. That familiar, heavy desire I had seen at the frat party instantly sparked back to life in her dilated pupils.
“I came down here because I couldn't let you think I was all bark,” I murmured, my fingers tracing slow, agonizing circles up and down her soft legs. I looked up at her, holding her gaze. “I'll bark if you really want me to, sweetie, but I’d much rather just make you feel good.”
“That 'all set for the day, completely relaxed' thing you promised?” she asked, looking down at me, her breath already hitching as she tracked my movements.
I nodded, pressing a soft kiss to her knee as one of my hands slid under the hem of her robe, tracing the smooth skin of her thighs. This time, there were no built-in shorts to stop me—just a sliver of sheer, lacy underwear in the way.
“Will you let me?” I asked, pushing the edges of the silk aside just enough to expose more of her skin without completely untying it yet. “I promise I'll make you feel incredible.”
“And if you don’t?” she challenged, tilting her head, a wicked, mischievous smile playing on her lips.
“I’m sure you’ll find a creative way to punish me, sweetie,” I answered, flashing her a smirk.
“Alright, Logan,” she breathed, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. “Let’s see what you can do.”
I didn't hesitate. I trailed open-mouthed kisses up the length of her legs, stopping just short of her inner thighs. I slowly looked up, my eyes landing on the silk tie holding her robe together. She gave me a tiny nod before I could even ask, and I pulled the knot loose.
The silk parted effortlessly, sliding off her shoulders and exposing her completely bare body, save for that tiny scrap of lace between her legs. Damn. It was the greatest view of my entire life. My dick twitched against my boxers.
“You know that feeling when you walk into a place for the first time and have absolutely no idea where to start?” I joked, earning a breathless laugh from her—something I loved that I could do, even in our most intimate moments.
I was dying to dive straight between her legs, but I couldn't ignore the rest of the masterpiece that robe had been hiding. I dragged myself upward, leaving a trail of hot kisses over her stomach and up her chest. I bypassed her breasts on purpose, going straight for her collarbone just to hear the frustrated little noise she made in the back of her throat.
I trailed my lips back down. My mouth closed over one of her nipples, circling and sucking, while my fingers went to work gently rolling and tweaking the other. Her soft, breathy whimpers quickly melted into low moans, telling me exactly how fast the pleasure was building up for her.
“Okay, enough,” she demanded, her voice breathy and desperate. “Stick to the original plan and get back between my legs. I need you down there.”
I smirked against her skin, descending back down her body until my face hovered right over her lacy underwear. The fabric was thin enough that when I dragged a slow, wet lick directly over the cotton, she threw her head back and let out a sharp gasp.
I hooked my fingers into the sides of the lace, sliding the panties slowly down her legs and tossing them somewhere onto the floor. Taking in the sight of her completely naked, looking at me with that much trust and raw desire... I practically grunted with the effort it took not to lose my damn mind.
“You’re way too beautiful for your own good,” I rasped, looking up into her eyes as she propped herself back on her elbows. She hooked one of her heels over my broad shoulder, opening herself up even wider for me. “I am absolutely dying to taste you.”
“Go for it,” she demanded, that bossy tone never leaving her voice.
And I gladly obeyed. I went straight for her, starting with soft, teasing kisses that quickly shifted into long, wet laps. I traced her slick folds, swirling my tongue over her clit and dipping down to her entrance. Her soft, contained whimpers rapidly turned into loud, uninhibited moans. Honestly, I felt like I could finish just from the sound of her voice alone.
Her hands tangled into my curls, gripping tight and instinctively controlling my rhythm as her back bowed off the mattress.
I dragged my tongue down to her entrance again, tasting her sweet wetness, but her grip in my hair immediately guided my head back up. I focused right where she wanted it, flicking and sucking the sensitive bud. Her moans filled the quiet room, the sound sending a heavy rush of blood straight to my groin. God, I had never been so grateful to be wearing loose sweatpants in my entire life.
I slid my index finger inside her, instantly getting the exact reaction I was looking for. She arched sharply, letting out the loudest, most shattered moan yet. She was so incredibly warm and tight, her hips instinctively rocking back and forth, driving my finger in and out to her own frantic pace.
“I wish it was my cock so damn bad,” I whispered against her soaked skin, keeping my tongue steady on her clit as I pushed my finger deeper.
“I’m gonna cum,” she gasped.
And there it was again. That velvety, breathy murmur that sounded exactly like Sugar. My dick twitched violently against my waistband. Did she always sound like that when she was falling apart? Did she talk dirty in bed? God, I needed to find out.
Her pulse fluttered wildly against my tongue, her inner walls clamping down hard around my finger. Her orgasm crashed over her in a heavy wave. I kept my mouth and hand working relentlessly, swallowing her whimpers and riding out the high with her until her thighs started violently trembling and her grip finally fell away from my hair.
She looked up at me with a relaxed expression on her face, pulling me closer by the waistband of my sweatpants. I fell on top of her, and the kiss she gave me was sexier than any of the others we'd shared. Was that normal? The more you kissed someone, the better they tasted? Because that’s exactly how I felt with her.
A faint noise echoed from upstairs, coming from the kitchen. We reluctantly broke the kiss.
“Well, you definitely can bite,” she said, smiling up at me. “But I’m really considering asking you to bark for me, since you offered.”
“Anything you want, sweetie.” I pecked her lips softly, forcing myself to stand up. She was still naked in front of me, and I wanted so badly to keep going, but tonight was strictly about her. I had already gone down there to alleviate my own burning jealousy; everything else needed to be about making her feel good. “That’ll leave you nice and relaxed for tomorrow, huh?”
As she laughed and pulled her robe back on, my eyes landed on that vintage black telephone again. Now that I was closer, I saw it had the exact same pink details as the one at Minnie’s house. Was it some weird welcome gift you got when you started working at the library?
I kissed her one last time, my gaze lingering on the object for a split second longer.
“Good night, sweetie,” I said, before heading out and climbing back upstairs.
As I got into my room, that damn telephone wouldn't leave my mind. Why would the library, especially Briar U's, give its employees a landline phone? Especially in colors that didn’t match the official college ones at all?
Minnie… the librarian’s nickname perfectly matched my favorite DAG receptionist’s name. Their voices sounded exactly the same, and it wasn’t just because "all old people sound the same," like she had tried to tell me on the phone. And earlier today, while I was fixing the AC, I was pretty damn sure I had recognized some of the other ladies' voices, too. Was I going crazy?
Lying in bed, my boner completely gone as my mind started spiraling with the possibilities, I grabbed my cell phone. Dean had originally just sent me the Dial-A-Goddess number directly; there was no business card or link attached to it.
So I opened my browser and Googled the company’s name. A bunch of articles popped up, raving about how the company was revolutionizing the phone-sex industry with a completely female-run organization, from the CEO down to the receptionists.
At the top of the search results, I found the official website. I clicked on it and was instantly greeted by a sleek, pitch-black homepage covered in hot pink writing, detailing their services, payment plans, and phone numbers.
The pattern of the website’s backdrop was practically identical to the design painted on Minnie’s—and Little G’s—telephones. That couldn’t just be a coincidence, could it?
Now there was zero doubt in my mind: Minnie the librarian was the exact same Minnie I always talked to at DAG. And if Minnie worked there, and all the receptionists were elderly ladies, and the youngest Graham had that exact same exclusive phone in her bedroom... that meant she worked for DAG.
Could she be working in some other branch of the company? But why would she need the direct line phone?
Oh, fuck. Little G was one of the available girls.
Suddenly, a flood of memories clicked into place.
When I had gone downstairs and found her cooling herself off in the kitchen right after my very first call, holding back a knowing laugh.
The way she had been so flushed and irrationally angry at Dean for messing with the breaker and killing the power during my second call.
How Little G’s breathy whisper while we were making out sounded exactly like Sugar.
The way she and Minnie were way too close at the library, acting like they shared a massive inside joke.
Could she really be Sugar?
Fuck. I had confessed that I was crushing on Hannah? Right after we had made out at the party? Fuck, I couldn’t be that unlucky, could I?
I had to know for sure. I needed to know if she was actually Sugar, or just another girl working for the company…
The next morning, I acted like absolutely nothing was wrong. She always kept her BB door shut, so there was no way I'd be able to hear if the phone rang from upstairs. I also definitely didn't want to test my theory with the rest of the guys around.
So I waited patiently for everyone to leave the house. Finally, the doorbell rang with a delivery for her. She practically sprinted upstairs, excited to grab her brand new books, and completely forgot to shut the door to her bedroom.
I slipped downstairs into her room, pulled out my cell phone, dialed Sugar’s direct line, and waited.
A few seconds later, the black rotary phone on her desk rang, loud and clear.
Right behind me, I heard the heavy thud of footsteps coming back down the stairs. I slowly turned around. The vintage phone was still ringing on the desk between us. I held up my cell phone, the screen facing directly toward her, displaying the contact name: Sugar.
She went completely pale, her grip slipping, almost dropping the heavy package of books right onto the floor.
Sugar had been living right under my roof this entire time.
