by Jamie Knight
I yelped softly, jerking forward a bit, mostly because I hadn't really been expecting it. The next three strikes, I did anticipate and took a lot better. After a fourth sharp strike, Aden started in with the kneading, my already tenderized flesh feeling even better in his skilled hands. It was enough to make my pussy melt.
Keeping a hand on my ass, Aden reached over and pulled open the top drawer in the nightstand. My back tensed unconsciously, knowing what that sound meant. Sure enough, the slid of the drawer was followed by the snap of a plastic cap. A bottle of lube. For some, it would have ended there, and there would have been some lovely, lubricated vaginal sex. Aden had a different idea.
Slathering the lube on the butt plug he had surprised me with soon after we had decided to give our relationship a try, he eased it gently into my asshole, eventually getting it all the way in. I let out a long, slow breath as I had learned to do, helping me to relax and make the process easier. It was still something of a new experience for me. We'd only started trying anal, at my request, a couple weeks before, but I was getting used to it, and the butt plug felt really good in my ass.
When the butt plug was placed correctly, Aden got on his knees behind me and devoured my pussy as my asshole was slowly stretched out, getting ready for him. My orgasm from the oral was more forceful with the added anal stimulation.
Keeping his hands on my hips, he stood up and lovingly eased the plug out of me, setting it onto the night table. Taking down his opera-appropriate pants, Aden pressed the warm head of his cock against my stretched and ready asshole. I held my breath and tried to relax as much as possible. The effort paid off, and Aden got most of the way into my asshole. Giving me a moment to adjust, he started to pump in earnest, working his big, beefy cock deep in my little asshole.
Aden didn't pull out in time. I couldn't blame him. If it felt half as good for him as it did for me, I can understand why he wouldn't want to stop. Besides which, the sudden rush of thick, warm cum flooding my ass actually felt really good, adding to the enormous assgasm that shook me too my core.
Slowly pulling out, Aden cleaned me off, and we got into his bed cuddling until we went to sleep. Both of us pretty spent. I didn't dare say so, but I was deeper in love with Aden than I ever thought possible. I was going to have to tell Cooper about us soon. I just had to make sure that Aden and I were on the same page. It didn't seem likely, but Aden might have thought this was only a fling. I had to be sure.
The next morning, I thought there was something wrong with the hot dogs. Or maybe the relish had gone off. It was the only way I could think of to explain how sick I felt when the sun came up
“Are you feeling okay?” Aden asked when I politely turned down breakfast.
“Yeah, I'm just not hungry,” I said, hoping he wouldn't think anything was wrong.
I passed by a bakery on the way to the building and had to walk faster to get out of the range of the smell. I usually loved the smell of bakeries, and Aden's cooking, for that matter. Though that wasn't the oddest thing. The weirdest thing by far was my sudden and abiding craving for fish sticks and custard.
It was at work that the bomb was dropped. After my twelfth trip to the bathroom to throw up food I didn't remember eating, Ryan's very pregnant wife, Molly, took me aside.
“Are you pregnant?” she whispered, trying to keep things subtle.
“W-what?” I asked, not even considering this an option.
“Come on, honey. You've been to the bathroom how many times?”
She had a point. It was certainly possible, Aden had cum in me enough times, though I had to be sure.
On my lunch break, I slipped out before Ryan could send me on another deli run and got a pregnancy test at a nearby pharmacy. Unable to wait, I went to a fast-food restaurant and took the test in the bathroom.
Positive.
Nope, couldn't tell Aden or Cooper yet. They would freak-out. I had no idea what to do.
Chapter Thirteen
Aden
Love and friendship can be shockingly difficult to navigate. Particularly in complex situations. And it didn't really get more complicated than Camilla, Cooper, and me. Not only because Cooper was under the laughably inaccurate impression that I loved Camilla like a sister. I loved her all right, but there was nothing familial about it.
I had seen him try to go after guys for looking at her twice like it was his job to protect his little sister from the big bad world. I shuddered to think what he might, at least try, to do if he found out what Camilla and I had been doing—particularly in the bedroom. This was something that actually made me angry when I thought about it. Not only was Camilla a grown woman and able to make her own decisions, but there was also a lot more to our relationship than sex. We really liked hanging out and were teaching each other a lot of cool things.
She gave me a crash course on music genres I'd never heard of, including some metal styles like Japanese Thrash, and I was educating her on independent and alternative cartoons and comics. It was a glorious litany of art, culture, philosophy, and sex that was nothing but beautiful. Not to mention that I loved her so much it almost hurt. To think that anyone would want to sully it for any reason, let alone the petty ones that Cooper seemed to harbor, made me really angry.
This was a large part of the reason why, since the night after the club when Camilla and I decided to give our relationship a try, I had done my best to avoid Cooper. Not because of what he might do to me but out of concern for what I might end up doing to him. I had been a soldier, after all. Something Cooper seemed to have forgotten. At least going by the number of times that he'd tried to step up to me. I always stepped back, of course. Cooper know doubt thinking that I was afraid. The fact was the whole situation was so ridiculous if it went on too long, I might just burst out laughing.
It wasn't that I didn't miss Cooper as a friend. I did, but I valued what I was building with Camilla a whole lot more, and if I had to choose, which it was looking like I was going to, it was going to be Camilla every time.
Things went reasonably well the first couple of weeks. I just stuck to my work while at the office, being even more productive than I had been before and nobody being any the wiser. I was mostly being left alone to bond with Camilla and build our relationship in peace. Something I was delighted for. Any remaining doubts were long ago obliterated. Camilla was the one, and I knew it.
We even, mostly, figured out what tickets to get. I wouldn't go to the opera for just anyone, and I really thought she would enjoy it. I had been wrong about that, but the sex afterward had been amazing, so I called it a win.
As with any winning streak, there had to be a break, and mine was coming sooner than I would have hoped.
Camilla knocked on my apartment door at the usual time, breakfast tray in front of her, it being her turn to do breakfast and mine to make dinner.
“Morning,” she said, giving me a light peck on the lips.
“It certainly is,” I said, opening the door fully for her.
It was her famous cinnamon French Toast again. No matter how many times we had it, it was never any less enjoyable. Likely because she made them slightly differently every time. I wasn't sure if she knew or even if she didn’t, but it was interesting to sense the different elements. I would make silent mental lists of the ingredients in each variation.
When our plates were cleared and the dishes done—me washing and Camilla drying—we hopped into the shower for a quickie before getting dressed for work. Camilla returned to her apartment for this formality.
Each clad in our signature looks we headed down to the parking lot, hand in hand, ready to face another day.
Or so we thought.
We had to get there early so Camilla could make the beginning of her shift. Not that I minded, of course. It just gave us more time together where we didn't have to pretend we weren't a couple and gave me a couple of hours at the beginning of the day to get a start on my work. A major factor contributing to the fact that I was beginning t
o outpace the other artists, despite my process taking twice as much work as a digital-only guy like Cooper.
If anything, I had more in common style-wise with Carlos, who worked mostly in paper and pencils. He still managed to render clear concept images, in most cases, based on briefs Chris had given him. Though he also let me write briefs on occasion if it was a concept I was creating myself, and Chris was willing to let me run with it. I had built up a lot of trust and goodwill in the last few years that gave me more creative freedom than I would have otherwise had.
“What the fuck is going on?”
I spun in my chair spilling ink on my draft and ruining it. Had it not for Cooper demanding my attention at the cubical door, I would have been a lot more upset. I had spent about ten hours on that draft over the last two days.
“That's what I was just thinking,” I said, rolling up the ruined draft so the ink wouldn't get on the floor.
“I'm serious, man,” Cooper said as I dropped the rolled-up paper into the trash can.
I was about to point out that I was serious, too, but decided it was probably not the best idea to antagonize him any more than he already was.
“What the fuck did I do?” Cooper asked, spreading his hands wide.
“What are you talking about?”
“You've been avoiding me for weeks!”
It was then that I realized that I was hurting Cooper in a different way. It wasn't a punch in the face, but ignorance can hurt as much as an insult.
I sighed. “It's not you. It's all me. I've been seeing someone. Turns out the Larkin approach didn't work out, and I've been trying to do that and keep up with work.”
A big grin spread over Coop's face. “That's great, man! Why didn't you just tell me?”
“I got the funny feeling that you wouldn't quite approve of her,” I said, tiptoeing around the hard truth.
“You're a grown man.” He slapped me on the shoulder. “What does it matter if I approve or not?”
“Like how there's not anyone in the world good enough to date Camilla?”
“That's different.”
“How?”
“It just is,” Cooper insisted, crossing his arms over his chest.
“And there it is,” I said.
“There what is?”
“The motto of the hypocrite,” I said, sounding a lot meaner than I mean it to.
“Now, that's not fair.”
“And it doesn't make a lick of difference that my girlfriend that you wouldn't approve of is Camilla?”
I had planned to say more. To say how serious it was, how much I loved her, and that I was thinking about marrying her. That was the plan. One that was cut off by Cooper punching me in the jaw.
“Seriously?” I said, the strike bringing up only the dullest of aches.
He tried again, apparently not having learned his lesson, and I cleanly dodged the second strike as well as the third and the fourth, driving me back into the wall of another cubicle. I knocked it over, sending Carlos and Chris running to avoid getting hit. I tried to get out of the strike zone, but Cooper followed, swinging again. His punch connected with Lucky knocking him over. I got out of the way, and Cooper turned on me, rage in his eyes.
Needing to end the situation before it could go any further, I threw a punch, a single blow, hoping to shock Coop out of it. My friend dodged, and I slammed my fist into the watercooler.
“What the fuck?” Camilla demanded, returning with lunch and staring at the sopping carpet.
“I didn't mean to.”
“He really didn't. Cooper threw the first punch and went a bit crazy,” Chris said.
“Now who's being an immature brat?” she screamed in our general direction before storming off.
It was clearly meant to both of us. Cooper for throwing the first punch and me for responding. Apparently, she would have preferred if I had just stood there and let her brother punch me. Which made no sense to me at all.
“What the hell is going on?”
Cooper and I both looked over to see Ryan and Beau come at us from down the hall, just finishing off the handoff between them.
“Get cleaned up,” Ryan said to Cooper, no doubt referring to the blood flowing from his nose.
“Aden, get these walls back up,” Beau said, the look of disappointment on his face worse than any punch I could have gotten. “And clean up this water!”
“The expenses for Chris's computer terminal will come out of your pay,” Ryan said, as Cooper went to wash off.
His disgust was apparent, and I knew that I was lucky that I hadn't been fired.
Chapter Fourteen
Camilla
I wasn't really sure where to go. I was so mad I had left without permission or any real goal in mind. I was so upset that I couldn’t really see where I was or where I was going. I never really noticed how similar most of the buildings looked before. One neighborhood bleeding into another. I found a bench and sat down, at least long enough for my eyes to clear from the tears so I could see where the heck I was going.
I was hurt and honestly felt a bit betrayed by their behavior, especially Aden, who was usually so in control. I wasn't happy with Cooper but had come to expect such silliness from him. What bothered me most with what happened was I had really expected better of Aden. If he was going to be a father, he would have to settle down.
It was that point, of course, I remembered that he had no idea he was going to be a dad. It was clear that I would have to sit down with both of them, probably separately, and hash it all out. I would have to talk to Aden first. If he wasn't in this relationship for the long haul, it wouldn't be worth putting up with Cooper's objections. If we really were going to be a proper family, Cooper could stuff it as far as I was concerned.
If I was honest with myself, I was also ashamed of my overreaction. I wasn't happy to see them fighting, especially with the damage they were causing. Though according to Chris, who had no reason to lie that I could see, Cooper had started it, and Aden was mostly just trying not to get hit. Which seemed a lot like him. He had ended up swinging on Cooper and apparently really messing up, but what would Cooper have done to Aden had he allowed it? There was clearly a lot more going on than I had known and could well have reacted inappropriately.
There was only one thing to do.
Getting my bearings as well as I could, I found my way back towards the office and came across a cafe that I had seen but had yet to try. Coffee had always been one of my favorite smells. Not brewed coffee or even brewing coffee. Fresh, ground coffee out of the canister or bag. It could almost make me hum with pleasure. If they ever made a car air freshener in that scent, I would be the first in line at the hardware store.
I breathed a deep sigh of relief as I walked through the carved wooden door, an electric version of “Ode to Joy” ringing out at me to find that this was still the case. I hadn't gone off the smell of unbrewed coffee like I had freshly baked cinnamon rolls. There were those as well at the cafe but encased safely behind a thick pane of glass in the display counter.
“What can I get you?” asked the perky college girl in the garish violet polo shirt, as though filling my order would genuinely be the highlight of her day.
“Large Earl Grey with cream and sugar,” I said, chapter and verse.
“Righto, oh, what's your name?”
“Camilla,” I whispered, still whipping away tears.
“Cammy?” she asked, not quite hearing.
“Sure,” I said, not having the heart to contradict her.
She rang me up and gave me my change, mostly in quarters, and I went to one of the adorable varnished wood bistro tables to wait. No sooner did my butt hit the artisan chair than I had my phone out and was texting Aden. I apologized slightly for my reaction and said I needed to talk to him, suggesting a time when I knew he would be off work. That message sent, I then texted Cooper. Using my words carefully, I made the same basic statement but suggested a time a couple of hours later, to minimize the ri
sk of another fistfight. I really couldn't stand any more stress. I already felt sick enough.
No sooner did I hit send than another voice rose up from the bustling crowd, struggling to be heard over the cacophony of laptop keyboards. All the would-be J.K. Rowlings sweating blood while enjoying a coffee.
“Cammy!” the voice came again, like an olde tyme town cryer.
“Oh, right,” I said, realizing that it was me. “Thank you,” I said instinctively while hustling over to the pick-up counter, not wanting to take up any more of their time.
Sitting down at the table, the chair already claimed by my coat, even the desert getting cold at that time of year. Not too bad, of course. Nothing that could cause limbs to fall off, or even see your breath, but you could get very uncomfortable in a mighty hurry if you let the sunshine fool you and didn't wear the right clothes. Even Aden would wear a classic black biker jacket with black hardware with his usual sneakers, jeans, and T-shirt ensemble.
It was sitting in that hipster cafe, at that cute fair trade table sipping an Anglo-phillic beverage that inspiration hit. Which tended to be how things went in my somewhat limited experience. I would have to feel my way through with Aden. That was still somewhat unknown territory. He wouldn't admit it, but the army had changed him. Though mostly for the better.
When it came to Cooper, there was one person who knew him even better than me. And I happened to have her phone number on my contacts.
“Hello?”
“Hi, mom!”
“Camilla?”
“Got it in one,” I said, Aden's words coming out of my mouth.
“What was that, dear?”
“Nothing, listen, I need some help.”
“Late on your rent again?”
“No, the job I've got is pretty good.”
“Oh, good, Cooper said he would recommend you.”
“And indeed, he did. That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Your job?”