The Story Of Carnage: The Complete Carnage Collection: Books 1-5

by Lesley Jones

  He frowns. “Yes, yes I do.” His expression changes from pissed off to gentle. “I love the fuck out of you, Kitten. I missed my chance once. I ain’t letting it happen again. I want you with me. I want us together. I don’t wanna fuck around. Let’s get a house. Let’s get your eggs and my swimmers together, and let’s make a family.” My tears are instant.

  “D’ya not think we need to discuss—” His lips hit mine and stop me from saying anymore.

  He pulls away. “Fuck the talking. I’m done talking. There’s fuck all left to say that hasn’t been said. We both want the same thing, so tomorrow we’ll start looking at houses and what we need to do to introduce my super spunk to your sexy eggs.” I open my mouth to speak but he kisses me again. When he pulls away again, he says, “Just for once, Kitten, just for fucking once, would you just shut up and do as you’re told? I’m not arguing with you about this one. It’s happening and fuck anyone who tries to stop us this time ‘round.”

  I look up at him through my lashes. “Yes, Master.”

  He gives his customary headshake. “You say that now, Kitten, but when it comes to it, I don’t think you know how not to defy me.”

  I think about that for a second. “It’s not just you. I don’t do what anyone tells me to.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Even when it’s what I want to do, if someone says do it, I do the opposite.”

  “But why would you do that?”

  “I don’t know. I think perhaps it’s a control thing.” I shrug and let out a breath. “I was never allowed anywhere without my brothers when I was little. Even if I didn’t want to go somewhere, I had to go or go home and it used to really piss me off.” He raises his eyebrows. “Piss isn’t even swearing, Cam.”

  “It isn’t ladylike either.”

  I consider that for a moment. “And me letting you slide your finger in my arse is?”

  His mouth drops open. It actually drops open. “That’s… that’s not… that’s different. It’s sex.”

  “It’s still not ladylike. If I were a lady, I wouldn’t be letting you anywhere near my arse.”

  He closes his eyes. “Kitten, just carry on with your story for fuck’s sake.”

  “I don’t know. I just think because everything I did was controlled by what the boys were doing, it sort of made me rebellious; meant that I was always pushing the boundaries.”

  “There’s no ‘sort of’ about it, Kitten. You are rebellious. You do push boundaries. You’re strong willed, defiant and would rather cut your nose off to spite your face than do as anyone tells you to, but I love you, regardless.”

  “Well, gee, thanks,” I say sarcastically.

  “What can I say?” he shrugs. “You let me stick my fingers up your arse. If you let me stick my cock up there, I might even consider marrying ya.”

  “You can fuck right off. That thing is not going near my arse, not ever.” He gives a small smile.

  “You don’t want to marry me then?” Wow, we’ve gone from anal to marriage in one sentence. Only Cam could do that.

  I shake my head slowly. “You don’t even know me, Cam.”

  “Oh, I do, Kitten. I know you inside out.”

  “And you still want to marry me?”

  His eyes wander over my face, finally coming back to rest on mine. “Yes, I want to marry you. I want to own you, possess you. I want the whole world to know you’re mine. Like I said earlier, I want a house, a big one and I want to fill it with our children. We’ve both lost so much, Kitten. I’m not losing you again. I can’t. It’d kill me.”

  “What if it doesn’t work? What if we can’t make babies with our super sexy sperm and eggs?”

  He kisses my forehead, then my nose. “Then it’ll just be you and me, and we’ll love the fuck out of each other, regardless.” A tear runs from my eye, over my nose and plops onto the pillow. “Don’t cry, Kitten. We’ll make this work. We’ll get the best doctors involved and we’ll get us some babies. We’ll fill that house with noise and chaos.” He kisses along the path of my tear. “We’ll get our happy ever after. I promise you that.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  When I wake in the morning, it’s to an empty bed again, but this time I can hear Cam in the shower. There’s music playing and I can hear him singing along to an old song by the Real Thing. I lay and giggle to myself at his terrible voice. It’s deep and out of tune, but he seems to be enjoying himself.

  My scalp suddenly tightens as I think about what we discussed last night. I’m on exactly the same page as Cam with regard to not hanging about. He wants it. I want it, and we’re both adults, why should we wait? The only issue I have is if I get married, I will have to change my name, and then that will be it, the last part of Sean gone, and I don’t know if I can do that. I can’t keep his name; that’d be disrespectful to Cam, but I feel so guilty about replacing it. It would feel like I was replacing him, and I’m not. I couldn’t. What I have with Cam is different to what I had with Sean. I love them both passionately, but differently, and I know that’s not going to sit well with some people, but that’s just the way it is. I still feel guilty and I’ve wondered to myself these past couple of days if I would feel less guilt if I’d fallen in love with someone else, Roman for example. Would I feel less guilty if I had fallen in love with a complete random who Sean didn’t know?

  Probably.

  Definitely.

  Most likely.

  Definitely.

  Because the problem is, you see, in all honesty, I hadn’t just fallen in love with Cam; I already am and always have been in love with him, and I know this makes me a bad person, a bad wife and a bad widow. I’ve spent twelve years denying what I feel for Cam. Twelve years denying I loved two men. No good would’ve come of admitting it while Sean was alive. I would never have left him. I couldn’t have left him, but in all honesty, if I’d given Cam the chance back when we first met, if I’d allowed myself to fall in love with him, then I don’t know if I could’ve left him for Sean the way I did. I really hate the way this makes me feel. I wonder if it makes me lucky or unlucky to have two loves of my life.

  I climb out of bed and go into the bathroom to wee, smiling to myself at Cam’s out-of-tune singing. The music is coming from a pair of speakers hidden in the ceiling, but I’ve no idea where the source to the music is hidden. Without thinking, I flush the toilet and realise what I’ve done the instant Cam screams like a girl. I’ve obviously upset the balance of the water pressure and I wonder if I’ve scolded or frozen him.

  “Fuck, brrr.” Frozen then. I smile as I throw my hair up on top of my head and secure it with a scrunchy and step around the glass brick wall into the shower, his eyes meet mine. “Now you’ve got the best of me, come on and take the rest of me,” he sings, thrusts his hips and points at his dick at the same time, “Oh, baby.” I roll my eyes and shake my head.

  “How old are you?” I ask rhetorically.

  “Old as my tongue,” he starts, “and a bit older than my teeth,” we finish together. I’ve not heard that phrase since the last time I heard Cam say it.

  “My God—”

  “Yes,” he interrupts, “what do you want, Kitten?” I roll my eyes and open my mouth to speak when he continues, “Sex, what again? Oh, if you insist.” So of course, I oblige.

  Half an hour later, I pad down the stairs wearing more of Cam’s clothes. He looks up from where he’s sitting at the breakfast bar eating his eggs and winks at me. Marian is leaning against the sink and chatting to him. She stops midsentence as she spots me.

  “Well, good morning, Georgia, my love. I didn’t realise you were here again. Would you like some eggs?” For some reason, the word eggs, combined with Cam’s wink throws me.

  “Err, I, no, no thank you, Marian. I’ll just have a coffee.” She raises her eyebrows as she turns to look at Cam. I take the stool next to him and sit down.

  “Three eggs, scrambled, salt, pepper and a knob of butter please, Marian, and she likes the who
lemeal bread, well toasted.” He sips on his coffee and looks at me over his cup, waiting for my reaction. My belly rumbles loudly. Perhaps I am hungry and it’s just all the emotions galloping around inside my head, heart and belly that are making me think I’m full.

  “D’ya know what, Marian? That sounds delicious. I think I am hungry after all. Thank you.”

  “Well done, Kitten. See, that wasn’t hard, was it?”

  I raise my eyebrows, widen my eyes and say to him, “When, in the shower or the bed? Felt pretty hard to me.” He spits his coffee just as Marian is putting mine down in front of me.

  “Cameron,” is all she says and fetches a dish cloth to wipe up the mess. Cam sits and stares at me in silence as Marian says, “Oh, by the way, Georgia, I’ve washed and dried your clothes. They’re folded up in the laundry. I’ll just fetch them.”

  “Thank you, Marian. I’ll grab them after my breakfast.” Cam is still staring, not saying a word. “What?” I ask.

  He gives his usual headshake, “Nothing, nothing at all.”

  We eat our breakfast, mostly in silence before I go upstairs and put my own clothes back on. They smell clean and fresh and a little bit like Cam. My belly squirms a little bit as I sit on the edge of the bed and pull on my Uggs.

  When I get back downstairs, Cam is in his office and it sounds like he’s talking to Benny. I don’t want to interrupt so I sit at the bench and watch Marian make a lasagne.

  “D’ya cook, Georgia?” she asks me.

  “Yeah, I do. I actually enjoy cooking.” She turns around and looks at me for a moment and I wonder what she’s thinking.

  “You didn’t have someone do the cooking for you then, or a housekeeper or anything, when you were married, I mean?” I instinctively look over my shoulder, wondering if Cam can hear this conversation. A little wave of panic rushes through me, as well as the usual guilt. Is this wrong, sitting here in Cam’s house, talking to his housekeeper about my husband? “Sorry Georgia, I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry…” She folds up a tea towel as she speaks.

  “No, no, it’s fine. I… It just feels a bit disrespectful to Cam to be talking about Sean.” I swallow down the ball of emotions rising from my chest to my throat. “It feels a little disrespectful to both of them actually.”

  “I lost my first husband. He was killed in a car accident,” Marian states.

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” She nods.

  “Thank you. It was a long time ago now, thirty-odd years. He was only twenty-nine. We both were. I at least had my children though. They were a great comfort, and luckily we were well insured, which is a massive help when you’re left on your own with young children to raise.” I watch as she unfolds the same tea towel and then refolds it, finally putting it down next to the sink. “I never imagined I would love anyone again. We’d married at seventeen, known each other our whole lives. He was the other half of me, but just six months after his death, I met Tony and I knew, I knew in an instant there was a connection and I run a bloody mile.” I smile at her admission and nod.

  “Well, it’s a bit different with Cam. We were together before, a long time ago.” I blush as I tell her this for some reason.

  “Oh, I didn’t realise.” She folds her arms across her chest and leans back against the sink.

  “Yeah, we met when I was twenty and were together for a few months, but that ended, and we’ve really only seen each other a few times over the years, but he’s had business dealings with my dad and brother. Then, just by pure chance, we bumped into each other in Australia and everything’s just been a little bit insane since.” She nods her head slowly.

  “Look, Georgia, I may be talking out of turn here, but take it from someone who’s been there. Don’t let anyone else tell you that what you’ve got, what you two have found, or rediscovered or whatever with each other, is wrong. There’ll always be spiteful, judgmental people out there, and for you especially, there’ll be millions of them, but take it from me. If you’ve been lucky enough to find love again, then don’t let anyone stand in the way of enjoying it.” She lets out a long sigh. “I feel so lucky to not only have loved, but to have been loved by two amazing men, and I’ve always refused to let anyone make me feel guilty about that, especially in the beginning.” She shakes her head. “I fought it and fought it and then finally, after about six months, I agreed to go on a date with Tony and we were married just two weeks later.” She shrugs and smiles a small smile. “He took on me and my three kids. He stood up to my family, my first husband’s family, and most of our friends when they all told us we were mad and that we’d never last. Thirty-odd years later, I’m as in love with him now as I was on the day we married, probably more so if the truth be told. We had two more kids of our own and he helped raise my three to be polite, well-adjusted adults, who all call him dad.”

  “That’s a beautiful story. You’re very lucky,” I tell her.

  “All I’m trying to say, Georgia, is to me and to anyone around, it’s obvious you two are in love. Just don’t let anyone come in the way of that and don’t ever feel guilty about it.”

  I nod. “I’ll do my best.” I smile, knowing all the while that I will always feel guilty. My circumstances are entirely different to Marian’s and I deserve the guilt that I feel. It sort of makes being with Cam okay, if that at all makes sense?

  I take the opportunity to check my phone when Marian goes upstairs. There’s a text from my mum inviting Cam over for dinner tonight. A dozen disgusting, but highly hilarious texts from Jim and Ash; they both want details of where I am and what I’ve been doing these past couple of days with TDH. Specifically, how much sex and in how many positions? I reply, telling them both ‘lots and think we’ve covered most ;-)’ There’s also a text from Roman, which I’m really surprised to see for some reason.

  Hope you’ve landed safely back in Pommie land and that the cold isn’t too much to bear.

  Is it wrong that I’m missing you?

  Roman x

  Oh, I really don’t need to be hearing that right now, even if he does only mean it in a friendly kind of way. I’m going to find it impossible to stand up soon with the weight of all the guilt I’m feeling. Although, I draw the line at feeling any guilt over Roman. We both knew what we were doing was a short term thing. We had decided on that from the very beginning; that’s what made it work for me. I reply with a short message telling him I’m home safely and that the weather is freezing but I’m loving it.

  I’m suddenly feeling restless. I wander over to the floor to ceiling windows and take in the view. Cam’s apartment is surrounded by other homes and apartment blocks, with views of Canary Wharf and the River Thames in the distance. This can’t be too far from the warehouse conversion that Sean and Marley own, or that I own now actually. I press my head against the glass, enjoying the cold sensation. I feel anxious and so confused. One minute, I’m decided, and determined Cam and I are going to be together no matter what; the next, I’m doubting my decisions. Can we make it work? Should I slow down a little, take some time, draw breath? I’m thirty-two, widowed, living with my parents despite owning properties in four countries, and right now, at this very moment, I’m totally unsure of where my life is going. I love Cam. I’m in love with Cam and I just don’t seem to be able to see any further than that. It’s like I hit a wall and my thoughts won’t move further and I don’t know why. I want to plan. I want to hope and dream, but I just feel like I daren’t. What if I lose it all again? What if somehow it all gets taken away from me again? Losing everything must be so much easier when you have nothing to lose, and now, now I have so much. I have Cam and love and hope, and if it all gets snatched away again, I know for sure I wouldn’t survive.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, my scalp prickles and I know he’s behind me.

  “You all right, Kitten?” And that’s what does it. Every time, it’s that question. I can usually hang on until I’m alone. I can hold on long enough to give myself a chance to walk away on the b
ad days, the days when all I want to do is cry. Until someone asks if I’m okay. My shoulders must shake as I heave a silent sob. “Baby, what’s wrong? Whatever’s wrong?” He turns me around to face him and holds my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him. “Talk to me, Kitten. What the fuck’s wrong? You’re scaring me.” His eyes dart all over my face.

  “I’m so scared. I love you and I’m so scared. What if we can’t do this? What if we don’t make it? What then? What will I do?” He wraps his big, strong arms around me and pulls me in tightly to his chest. I can hear his heart pounding, big and strong and I just love the sound and the sensation of it against my cheek and my ear.

  “Whatever’s brought this on, Kitten? We’ve got this. I’ve told you; we’ve got this, and if you haven’t yet, well, then I’ve got this enough for both of us.” We stand and sway gently from side to side for a few long minutes. Cam kisses my head and my hair. He gently strokes his fingertips up and down my back and gradually I calm myself down. I don’t know where all of that just came from, but I’m so grateful to Cam. He’s here with his strong arms, holding me together as I fall apart once again.

  “What happened?” he asks eventually.

  I shrug. “Just feeling a bit overwhelmed, I think.” He kisses my temple.

  “Don’t be. We’ve got this.” I nod. “Come into the office with me. I want to show you something.” He takes my hand and we walk down the hallway towards the front door, but stop and turn left into a doorway I hadn’t noticed before. It leads to a large, spacious home office, much bigger than the other office. There’s a whole wall of flat screen monitors, which seem to be showing CCTV images from the various clubs Cam owns. The whole room is white: walls, desk, chair, bookcase and sofa, all white. I let go of his hand and head over to the big office chair. I push off with my toes, then pull my knees up to my chest as the chair twirls. I launch myself again and look up at the ceiling as everything spins. When I eventually feel sick and let the chair come to a halt, my eyes land on Cam. He’s wearing a plain white T-shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans; his feet are bare and it’s his bare feet that are suddenly making me squirm. Feet are probably the least sexy part of the body, but looking at his bare feet is just doing something to me. His arms and legs are crossed as he leans against his desk beside me.