by Sammi Cee
Mixed Up In You
Sammi Cee
Copyright © 2018 by Sammi Cee
Published in the United States by Sammi Cee
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, copied, or transmitted in any format or by any means without the prior written permission from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are a product of the author’s imagination. Any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, is pure coincidence. As are any similarities to any businesses, events or locations.
All products and brand names mentioned are registered trademarks of their respective holder and or company. I do not own the rights to these, nor do I claim to.
* * *
Cover Design by Jay Aheer
* * *
Mixed Up In You is intended for reader (18+) due to adult situations
Thank you, thank you, to the ladies who carry me and my Butch! This journey wouldn't be half as awesome without you!
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Sammi on Social Media
Also by Sammi Cee
Chapter One
Julian
* * *
“Julian, man, come on. Let’s get out of here.”
Shoving Chuck’s hands off me, I mumble, “Go away, Chuck. You’re being a total buzz kill tonight.” All around us the music is bumping, the vibrations of the bass under our feet, and the place is jammed with people, packed in tight ready to drink and fuck.
Feeling an arm slip around me from behind, I can tell by the strong scent of Jo Malone Cologne that Phillip is back. When another vodka tonic appears in an outstretched hand in front of me, I turn my head to grin up at him. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” When he looks past me, his eyes narrow so I turn back to my irritating best friend.
“Dude, go ahead and go. I graduated fucking college tonight!” I yell. “I’m not going home, yet. I wanna party.”
“Yeah, Chuckie. Go ahead and go. I’ll take care of Julian tonight.”
That makes me smile like an idiot as I spin in Phillip’s arm to look up at him. “You will, huh?”
“Oh yeah,” he says pulling me in closer to his big, muscular body. My breath stutters in my chest. Phillip, handsome, popular Phillip is holding me in his arms. It’s a fantasy I’ve had for years to find out what he feels like, how much of a beast he is in bed. He’s the big guy on this side of town. Everyone wants to know him or at the very least be acknowledged by him, and he’s been showering me with attention and drinks for the last several months. He’s never hit on me or anything, but I haven’t seen him with anyone else either, and I’m determined to get just one night with him.
Before I can get my flirt on, Chuck grabs my arm and yanks me back toward the bar where he begins hissing insistently, “Dude, it’s our graduation night, remember? We’re supposed to be celebrating. And that’s fuckin’ Phillip.”
“I know. Isn’t it fuckin’ awesome?”
“Julian, he’s a damn drug dealer. What’s wrong with you?” He looks pissed which is why he needs to go home. I want to celebrate my hard work, not hang out with this Debbie downer.
“Get lost, Chuck. I’ve gone back and hung at Phillip’s house after the bar’s closed plenty of times. Not only has he never tried to give me any drugs, he’s kicked out anyone who has. It’s cool. You worry too much.”
Spinning away from him, I begin to walk back to Phillip who’s waiting patiently for me. The minute he sees me step toward him, the frown leaves his face, replaced by the sexiest smirk I’ve ever seen. As I feel hands close around my bicep again, I shake my arm, turning just my head to growl over my shoulder, “Chuck, go the fuck home. I’m fine.”
Chuck’s eyes widen in surprise before he narrows them at me. “Do whatever you want, but your partying the last few months is out of control. Call me when my best friend, the real Julian, shows back up.” Immediately he’s scooting toward the door of the crowded bar, elbowing and pushing people out of his way.
Before I totally register that he’s actually leaving instead of staying to get shit-faced with me, Phillip yanks me forward back into his arms. “I have a three wise men shot waiting for you at a tabletop, Julian. Let me show you a good time tonight. Don’t worry about your friend, we’re going to celebrate. Me and you.” Without hesitation, I tangle our fingers together when he reaches for my hand, and I follow him to the corner of the bar that’s always reserved for him. He showers me in drinks and shots for my graduation, always holding me close to him, running his hand down my arms and back. I become the center of attention, partying with people I’ve never seen before as they congratulate me and thrust shots into my hands. Chuck missed out leaving, hanging with Phillip elevates a man, brings status and clout, I think hazily as the alcohol courses through my body. The bar is growing wobbly around me as my vision begins to blur, but I feel Phillip encircle my waist with his arm. As he holds me securely to his side, I know he’ll take care of me.
“I have a special graduation treat for you, Julian.” Leaning in he whispers into my ear, “I’m gonna let you blow me. Right here, right now.” My pulse races with excitement as my mouth waters. Phillip turns me around to face him and runs his pointer finger down my cheek. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” At the nod of my head, I feel his hands leave my body, and there’s a nudge in my stomach. He can’t mean… but yes, a minute later, he places his hands on my shoulders and begins pushing me to the floor. Lifting startled eyes up to his, he says, “Everyone will want to be you now, Julian. They’ll know I belong only to you.”
Phillip, Phillip will be mine, I think as I come face to face with the hardness that’s been pulled out of his pants and stands proudly on display. For a moment, I hesitate, but then I realize he’s right. The bar is packed, most people won’t even be able to see what I’m up to. But the ones who stay close to Phillip hoping for a scrap of his attention, the men and women who have been eyeing me jealously all night for the touches and drinks that Phillip is bestowing on me, they’ll know to stay away. And then he’s running the head of his cock across my lips and forcing it into my mouth the moment my lips part. Determined to make this the best blow job he’s ever had, I begin to flick my tongue up only to have him grab the side of my head and fuck my face. Hard. Deep. Fast. But I’m a big guy, so I can take it. If this is what he wants, what he likes, then I’ll prove to him in front of all these people that I can give him what he needs, so I bring my hands up to clutch his thighs and hang on while tears course from my eyes.
Chapter Two
Julian - Nine Months Later
* * *
“Phillip, I’m not riding home with him,” I argue outside the door of the Audi parked in front of the grand opening of the newest bar in town.
“We don’t have a choice,” he slurs. “I’m in no condition to drive.”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have drunk so much,” I snap back at him. Every month we go through the same thing. He has to have his monthly drug test, so he doesn’t touch any drugs for a few days. But he still drinks like a fish. Without the meth amping him up, alcohol obliterates him quickly. We usually stay home during those days, but he didn’t want to miss this grand opening. Heaven forbid he miss something and not establish his dominance. “You always tell me to stay away from Bernie, and now you’re telling me to get in a car with him.” I barely resist stomping my feet like a child, but I’m so pissed off he won’t l
isten to me.
A dark scowl descends on his face, and I know I’m in trouble if I argue further. “I tell you to stay away from him alone. He’s my best friend, so you’ll be fine. What the fuck is the matter with you? Always bitching like a little girl lately. Just get in the car and shut the fuck up.”
He opens the back-passenger side door for me and roughly shoves me inside. I can’t even care at this point. I’ve been up for four days and stayed away from the blow today myself. I just want to get home and sleep. Laying down in the back seat, I vaguely hear Bernie giving Phillip shit about me. Bernie hates that Phillip moved me in with him and that they don’t go out and pick up ass for the night together anymore. Although, maybe if Bernie remembered he has a wife at home, it wouldn’t be such an issue. I hate this guy.
Through the months of living with Phillip, I’ve slowly learned the way their operation works. Between the two of them, they bring in meth and cocaine, split it up, and then they both have their own people they distribute to. But Phillip is classy. We drive downtown and he disappears into businesses, big corporations and comes out with thousands of dollars. Then he also has dealers that he supplies with larger amounts to sell. But our friends party at our house for free. However Bernie is trash. He’ll deal to anyone, including kids and those who shoot up. Phillip would never do that. Plus, I’ve heard around town that Bernie also deals all types of pills and heroin. I tried to ask Phillip about it, but he told me as long as I live in his house with him and he’s taking care of me, I’ll mind my business and ignore what people say. Since Bernie usually stays at slummy bars, and I rarely have to see him, I honor his wishes.
The car jolts, shaking me out of my thoughts. On top of everything else, Bernie drives like an asshole. It’s only one a.m., much earlier than we usually go home, but I’m thank—the tires screech as my stomach lurches into my throat. Throwing up my hands to try to grip onto anything, I hear the scrape of metal before we’re airborne. Bernie and Phillip are yelling, but I can’t hear what they’re saying as I wonder if this is it, is this when I die?
Slowly I become aware of voices, and I flutter my lashes trying to get my eyes to open, the whirling of red and blue lights hit me, causing me to squeeze my eyes back shut. The door at my feet opens and hands grip my ankles, tugging on them. Over the background voices, I hear, “Come on, sir. We need you to wake up and step out of the vehicle. Are you hurt?”
Groggily I shake my head, trying to make sense of what’s happening. We were only twenty minutes from home, so close to my bed. I need sleep or a line or something; I’ve been up for so long. An officer helps pull me out of the car, and I stumble toward him, unsteady on my feet. Finally, my eyes open enough for me to glance around. Phillip is in handcuffs leaned on his stomach up against a car, but there’s no sign of Bernie. Then I’m being shoved against the car, the feel of hands roughly running down my body and up near my crotch startles me. As my arms are jerked backward, I feel the cold press of metal around them as someone says… oh my god, he’s reading me my rights. A coldness I’ve never experienced consumes my body, and I turn my head to the side, spewing what little food I’ve had in the last few days. I’m heaving, wishing I had stayed home. Wishing this night had never happened. I’m a college graduate; I’m supposed to be an accountant for fuck’s sake.
W-what’s going on? I roll my head to the side and startle when I realize I’m in a little box of a room all by myself. Vaguely, I remember being shoved into the police car. Well, no, Phillip shoved me into the Audi, I was actually placed into the back of the police car. When we got to the station, they took my picture and I was fingerprinted. There was no sign of Phillip or Bernie and someone asked if I had anything to say, but I didn’t. Seeing the phone on the wall, I go to push myself up to stand to walk over, but one hand is encumbered. It’s disorientating to see my own wrist cuffed and attached to a chain secured to the wall. Can I use the phone? I’ve never been arrested before, never been in trouble at all. Living with Phillip, I’ve seen my fair amount of police as they come to our house to question him about something time and again, but that’s it. He’s never been arrested for anything in the months I’ve lived with him, so I’ve never even been in a police station. I know he got in big trouble with the law a few years ago, that’s why the monthly drug test, but I don’t do anything wrong. He’s the dealer, not me.
I sit for what feels like hours trying to decide if I’m allowed to use the phone. I test standing up to see if I can even reach it with my wrist chained and discover I can. The door opens and an older, portly man in uniform enters to undo the cuff around my wrist. “Come on, Mr. Blake. It’s time to get you your new wardrobe.” He puts a new set of handcuffs around my wrists and leads me down a long hall and through several doors. We stop in a room lined with shelves that contain bright orange clothes. The cuffs are removed and I’m told to undress. Goosebumps break out all over my flesh as I slowly pull my clothes off. I still feel dazed, whether from the accident or my situation I’m not sure. There’s an ache in my lower back, but I was scared to be separated from Phillip, so when one of the officers at the accident asked if I needed medical attention, I shook my head no. But maybe I did. I shake my head trying to make the world make sense. A new officer approaches me where I stand naked in the middle of the room. If I thought being patted down by the car was bad, this is humiliating. Tears form in my eyes as the officer even flattens his hands between my butt cheeks. Do they think I have drugs up there? When he’s done, he throws one of the ugly, orange jumpsuits at me and tells me to hurry up and put it on. Then he leaves the room.
Alone, I scramble into it as fast as I can, but it’s forever before someone else comes in the room to get me. This one is looking at something in his hand, and we both jerk our heads back when he looks up at me. “Julian, man, what have you gotten yourself into?” Embarrassment eats at me, and I feel my face flame red in shame. It suddenly hits me that I’ve been arrested, and before I can question why, the voices at the scene start to take shape in my mind. They only found two of us, and there were pills shoved under the seat. Oh my god, they said it could be either one of ours. I’ve been arrested for drugs. I shake my head at my old friend from high school, no longer able to meet his eyes as mortification at my situation compresses on my chest making it hard to breathe.
He crosses the room and stops in front of me. As he gently pulls my arms in front of my body, I stare at his shiny black shoes trying to get my emotions under control. This is so humiliating, and ridiculously, I feel bad for putting him in a situation where he has to treat an old friend like a criminal. I want to tell him I’m not, that I just love someone who makes an unlawful living, but that he’s a good guy. I want to tell him that he takes good care of me; he won’t let me work and showers me with gifts. He’s good to his family; he buys special gifts for his mama. It’s not as bad as it looks.
Even as I think these things, I know how crazy that sounds. No one wants to hear that I live with the good kind of drug dealer. Thinking back to my days in DARE in high school, when it was me and Chuck and this man here who grew up to be an officer, I remember the contempt we had for drugs, and the people who poisoned society with them. Again, I blink furiously to fight back the unbidden tears that swell up in my eyes.
As he walks me across the hall toward another cell, I see Phillip walking down the hall in his regular clothes with an officer to each side of him. However, he’s not in cuffs. Blinking at him in confusion, he sees me and yells, “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll have you out in no time.” For the first time since we left the bar, I take a deep breath. Relief courses through me because I know Phillip has the money, and I know he’ll take care of me.
As my childhood friend unlocks the cuffs from my wrists and leads me into the cell of men, he whispers, “I’ll keep you in here and make sure you don’t get transported to general population while we wait for him to get you out.” Thankful, I finally meet his eyes. They’re bleak with sadness, but swimming with compassion. I give one st
iff nod before he closes the door and relocks it, and I turn to face the inside of the cell.
At least ten men are in here. Some shoot me a curious glance, one sleeps, and another looks angry. Quickly walking to the back of the cell, I sit on the bench and push myself into the corner. Not for the first time, I’m thankful that I’m not a small guy and that I can hold my own in a fight. But I have to admit to myself that it’s scary being here, getting arrested, and now having no control of my own life. Plus the pure exhaustion, my limbs are heavy with lack of sleep, and my eyes keep trying to close. There’s no way I’m sleeping in here, though. No way at all.
Checking out the layout of the room, I see a pot for using the bathroom in the opposite back corner. There’s even a roll of toilet paper sitting there and bile rises in my throat at the thought of being in here long enough to have to make use of it. I haven’t used the restroom in hours, but my bladder feels like it’s shut down. All my organs do. Maybe I’m dying from not having slept in days and not having access to more meth.
Dropping my head back onto the wall, the last nine months pass through my brain like one of those old toy movie projectors. I’d gone home with Phillip the night of my graduation and never left. We’d had sex that weekend, so much sex, and it was rougher than I normally liked, but we were both flips, so he didn’t demand anything of me that he wasn’t willing to do, too. Every time I left after that, he’d ask me to come back later. Eventually, I was no longer looking for a job, I was spending all my time with him. When he found me on the brand-new MacBook laptop he’d bought me one day looking for jobs, he’d asked me to move in. Once I did, I never looked for a job again. He liked me with him at all times. There were times he left me at home, like when he’d go to Bernie’s, but for the most part, we were always together.