The Culmination of Everything (Sugar Valley, #1)

by Christina C. Jones

Surely it couldn’t storm too much longer… right? That thought had barely gotten across my mind before another roll of thunder cracked the sky as if the weather were answering my question with a loud, “Try me, bitch.”

That hipster couple is likely to work my goddamn nerves though, fussing about their air purifier not working cause the power’s out. Take ya’ ass outside, we’re in the damn mountains!”

Without taking her gaze off mine, Kyle dumped a perfect scoop of potato salad on my plate, then placed a roll beside it. “Enjoy,” she said, in a tone that probably sounded polite to the person behind me, but with the challenging ass eye-contact she was giving me, and the twitch in her eyebrow, I heard something different. Something more like, “choke”.

I was trying to figure out what the hell the little fluttery feeling in my chest was. Hoe tingles, Kyle.

You can’t fuss about it unless you’re about to volunteer to be my muse.” My eyebrows lifted. “I’m not getting naked for you to paint me like one of your French girls.” “See?” he sucked his teeth. “I don’t even paint French girls – I do performance art.” “What does that even mean?” “It means, keeping up with your Titanic reference, I’m performing a scene where we both get on the door in the water, cause goddamnit there was room.”

“Sorry sis,” I answered, laying back on the bed with the phone pressed to my ear. “I got caught up with an unexpected guest.” “Oooh,” Jude gushed. “Big Dick Benny again?” I rolled my eyes. “No. The other guy I told you about, Morgan.” “Oh, so you’re up in the mountains being a hoe hoe. I approve.”

Somehow, he found the energy to sit up, grabbing my wrist to pull me closer. “Just… sit on my face real quick. For like two minutes, come on.”

“How do I even know you can cook?” I asked, as she began making plates. Kyle looked up, wearing a smirk. “You don’t… but I can. And I can prove it,” she added, sliding the plate across the counter to me. She extended a fork, and I took it, ready – and willing – to latch onto any reason to roast her into oblivion.

“I’m telling you there’s a reason he hasn’t run you off. And it’s not cause of what’s between your legs.” Is she saying my pussy is trash?

Jude’s ass chimed in with “Yeah!” like she didn’t already know. “They should’ve named you Judas,” I told my sister,

“What gave you that impression? Answering the door in his boxers, or smacking me on the ass?” He laughed. “That was the type of thing I would’ve done to your Mama. Unnecessary flexing to make sure your granddaddy knew I wasn’t scared of his ass.” “Oh is that what that was?” “Game recognize game, baby girl.”