by V. Kelly
“What are you doing?”
“Watching you take a shower.” I can hear a hint of amusement in his voice. He plops down on the sink watching me as I soap my breats.
Man, I hate him.
“What are you, a pervert? Go back and lay down. You can take a shower when I’m all done,” I shout through the water.
“Nah, I’m fine right where I am. Go back to what you’re doing. Pretend I’m not even here.”
Yeah, like that’s possible. Every time I close my eyes, I remember how his hands felt on me. Mindlessly, my own hands start running across my body. When I reach my pussy, I wash it a little longer than I should, remembering what he felt like inside me. The door opens and he struts in.
“Caleb, a little privacy please.”
“You’re using up all the hot water. I want to make sure I get an sufficient amount for myself.” He grins and pushes me out from beneath the showerhead. I lick my lips, enjoying how the water trickles down his body. “You like what you see, Everly?”
“No,” I quickly answer. “Have fun in here. I’m going to get dressed.” I open the shower door and leave him in the shower by himself, but not before I steal one last glance at the perfection of his body.
I rifle through my bag and pull out a pair of jeans and a loose fitting green top which I accessorize with some large hoop earrings and dangly bracelets. I throw on my grandma’s butterfly necklace and grab my boots from off the floor. Maybe if I sneak out while he’s in the shower, I can get away from this suck hole of dominance he has me in. I’m fully dressed and making my way to the front door when he comes out of the bathroom and practically tackles me to the ground.
“Caleb, I need to go find my family.”
“Not until later. I’m ordering us breakfast and you’re going to eat it with me.” Hooking a wet arm around my waist, he pulls me back onto the bed. Then he picks up the phone. “Yes, this is Caleb Conaway . . . why thank you, I appreciate all my fans.”
I roll my eyes.
“I’d like to order some breakfast up to room 141. I’ll have an egg white omelet with chorizo and bacon, please go heavy with the cheddar cheese, a glass of orange juice and some coffee. Oh, and a fresh plate of fruit. What do you want, Baby?”
I glare at him, reminding him how I’m not his baby. “Waffles, with powder sugar, and milk, please.” I force out the please. Just because he’s being annoying, doesn’t mean I need to forget my manners. It’s a free meal; the least I can do is eat it. He repeats my order and tells them to put it on Chris’ tab. He hangs up and smiles at me.
“That bastard owes me for what he said to you last night.”
Frowning, I attempt to get up off the bed, but he grabs my hip and brings me down on his incredibly hard erection, hidden by a flimsy towel. “Caleb, come on, let me go.”
“Not until you admit that you had fun with me last night.”
“Of course I had fun. Sex is always fun, but I’m not sure what you expect me to do here. You know how I feel about you, and yet you continuously try to force me to be with you. I’m sorry that won’t work with me, Caleb. I’m not some slutty fan that will do anything you say whenever you say it. I’m me, and you’re just not the right guy for me. I’m sorry.”
A knock on the door interrupts us. I open the door allowing a woman to enter wheeling a cart full of our breakfast. She squeaks when she sees Caleb and smiles at him. “Room service,” she exclaims.
“Thanks,” I tell her, reaching into my purse for a tip. I place a five-dollar bill in her hand. The woman looks at me like I’m crazy. Caleb comes up behind me and places a fifty-dollar bill in her hand. She grins and he winks at her. Taking the five-dollar bill away from her, he stuffs it into my back pocket, then leaves his hand there when her eyes get a little too friendly.
“You can leave now,” he tells her.
She nods and walks out of the room, but not before stealing one last glance at Caleb’s naked torso and towel-covered ass. A hint of jealousy swarms me, but I swallow it up and pretend not to care.
“Ready to eat?” he asks, ignoring everything that just happened moments ago. We eat our breakfast in silence, occasionally meeting eyes over a bite of food. Finally, after way too much silence, he speaks.
“Give me a chance. Date me. If it doesn’t work out, then we can both say at least we tried.”
I finish my last bite of waffles and glare at him. “No.” It’s a simple word that I put every ounce of assertion behind. “Just stop trying. Let it go.”
He growls and pushes his plate away from him. “I’m not going to keep chasing you, Everly. It’s been fun because I like a good chase, but I’m not going to keep coming after you like I have been.” His blue eyes shine with disappointment.
I briefly feel guilty, but I’m convinced there is another man in this world for me, and that man isn’t Caleb.
“It would make my life a whole hell of a lot easier if you weren’t popping up everywhere I go. Why don’t you just give up, Caleb? I’m not going to date you.”
He pushes away from the table, throws on his pants, his shirt and shoes follow. He slams the keycard he got made for my room on the table right in front of me, his face inches away from mine. His minty breath has me wondering how that’s possible seeing after eating a hardy breakfast.
“One last chance, Everly. I’m fucking walking out that door and I won’t be coming back.”
I swivel to face him. Our lips are millimeters away from each other and I want nothing more than to kiss him again, but I hold back, biting on my lower lip for support. I have to push Caleb away. Like Max said, he’s not right for me. I need someone better—someone that fits all my characteristics, not just a few.
“Goodbye Caleb,” I say directly to his face.
He groans as he walks to the door. “You’re an idiot, Everly. There are girls who would be dying for me to chase them like I’m chasing you. You haven’t realized it yet, but I’m quite the catch.”
I don’t say anything. He stands there for a good two minutes, waiting for me to agree or disagree. When I don’t answer him, he pauses and gives me a solemn look before opening the door and walking out of the room. Once he’s gone, I take a deep breath and put my head down on the table. I’m not sure why it bugs me so much that Caleb just announced he’s done. Maybe I do have fun with him chasing me around like he has been. One thing’s for sure . . . I need to find someone quickly to keep my mind off Caleb before I do something stupid like agreeing to date him.
Chapter Fifteen
My weekend in Vegas ended way too quickly. Before I knew it, I was back in school, studying my ass off.
“I can’t believe we are two weeks away from graduating. I think we need to go out and celebrate. Let’s go to Percy’s,” Jessi suggests.
I look over at my best friend and shrug my shoulders. I’ve been in some weird funk since Vegas. I’m not sure if it’s the way Caleb and I parted ways or the fact I haven’t heard from him in two months, but his absence is definitely noticed. That’s something that makes me even grumpier. I hate the guy; he’s psychotic, not to mention a crazed stalker. Jessi says he’s romantic. I think he needs to be locked away; he could become someone’s prison bitch. He’d be good at that.
“Gawd, why don’t you just call the guy and make up. This ridiculous moping thing you’re doing is exhausting. The guy is hot. Who cares if he doesn’t talk like Sean Connery. You should give him a chance.”
I take this opportunity to throw my pillow at her. She knows I have no desire to date Caleb. I hate how she’s always bringing him up. “Shut up. All I need is a distraction. Someone to make me stop thinking about him. So yes, I’d like to go to Percy’s tonight.”
“Shit yeah!” Jessi yells. “Let’s go be hoochies.”
“One cannot simply become a hoochie, there’s an art to it.”
“Whatever. Let’s just go find us some hot guys and have some fun tonight,” Jessi jokes.
“Okay, let me take a shower first.
> Two hours later, Jessi and I are all dolled up. I’m wearing a leather jacket over a super cute corset and my best blue jeans—flashy ones with bedazzled pockets. Jessi is wearing jeans and a cute gray top. Anytime we go to Percy’s, we go for the casual, cute look. At the bar, it’s crowded with horny co-eds. Our usual table has a few hot guys sitting at it. I’m almost tempted to tell them to move until one with slicked-back hair speaks.
“La prima donna che dice ciao a me, sto portando a casa stasera, ragazzi.” That sexy Italian accent hit me like a ton of bricks. Being fluent in Italian, Spanish, French and Chinese, I know exactly what he said. “The first woman who says hello to me, I’m taking home.”
Like a homing device, my tits immediately gravitate in his direction, pushing my body towards him. He’s sexy as hell: deep brown eyes, slick black hair that curls around his ears, and a lean curved jaw with a slight five o’clock shadow. As I approach, his mouth pulls into a smile.
“Sei seduto al mio tavolo,” perfect Italian flows from my lips. “You are sitting at my table.” His lips curl even more.
“You speak Italian?” His accent is thick like molasses and sweet like sugar. My homing boobs are practically vibrating under my corset. Accents do wonderful things to my body—I’m quivering with lust right now. “We shall make room; I’m Lorenzo.” Lorenzo pushes the guy out of the seat next to him and pulls up a chair to the table. I sidle up next to Lorenzo; Jessi follows sitting across from me. She rolls her eyes, knowing perfectly well the only reason we sat down is because of his accent.
He picks up my hand and kisses the back of it. “A woman of your beauty should not be alone on a Friday night. Tell me, where is your boyfriend?”
I giggle as he places sweet, seductive kisses up my arm. His friends snicker.
“No boyfriend,” I manage to admit.
“Do you go to school here?” Jessi asks. She sounds annoyed. I don’t care if she is. This guy speaks like an Italian Stallion and I plan on riding his pony straight to the bedroom.
“No, Bella, I do not go to school.”
“Then why hang out in a college bar?”
I shoot Jessi an angry glare and she ignores me.
“Because I had a feeling a beautiful woman would walk into my life.” He kisses my hand again. I’m surprised I’m not licking him. When I was little, Max and I would always lick cookies to claim them. If Lorenzo was made out of chocolate chip cookie dough, I’d give him a tongue bath.
“Right, Everly, can we go now?”
I shake my head, my eyes penetrating Lorenzo’s gorgeous gaze. Jessi throws up her hands; I catch it through my peripheral vision.
“I see Denise at the bar; I’m out.” Jessi gets up from the table and stomps off.
“Your friend seems troubled.”
“She’s a tad ticked off at me. Nothing a little time apart can’t fix.” He catches my small hint and smiles at his friends.
“Arrivederci, ragazzi.” See you later, boys, he tells them. I push out of the booth and follow Lorenzo from the bar.
“Il vostro posto o la mia?” Your place or mine? I ask him in flawless Italian. He smiles and puts a firm hand around my waist.
“We’re going to mine.” He kisses my cheek as he leads me from the bar.
For six whole hours, Lorenzo made me forget about the unaccented pain in my ass. We didn’t have sex that night, instead, we joked and talked in Italian. We made out and there was a lot of touching, but neither of us wanted to ruin the connection we shared by jumping into the bedroom. We wanted to get to know each other and that’s exactly what we did.
For two whole weeks, Lorenzo and I spent every single second of my free time together during the day, much to Jessi’s displeasure. She told me that there was just something about him that irked her. She didn’t know what, but she didn’t like him; it had to do with his smooth Italian demeanor and even thicker accent. I told her she was crazy. There was nothing wrong with Lorenzo. Christ, he hasn’t even made a move yet. The only problem I do have is the fact he doesn’t want to hang out at night. He says he works late, and the day we met was his day off. For now, I’m happy with our lunch dates. It means more time with Lorenzo.
Before I know it, it’s graduation day. Lorenzo and I have plans for him to meet my family. Mom, Dad, and Max all flew out for my graduation. Breezy was supposed to come with them but couldn’t make it due to doctor’s appointments she couldn’t miss. I’m supposed to meet up with them later. So for now, I’m chilling on Lorenzo’s couch while he rubs my feet.
“Are you nervous about meeting my family?” I ask him.
“Sì, un po,” Yes, a little, he answers.
“You’ll be fine. My mom is going to love you. She has a thing for hot Italian men,” I tell him. I can tell he’s nervous, so I remove my feet from his hands and shift to his lap.
“I want you to help me celebrate my graduation a little early.” I start a trail of kisses down his neck.
He groans and I feel him harden beneath me. I purposely wore a dress with the hope he would take advantage of me. He kisses me back, aggressively, and grinds me against his shaft. It’s finally happening, I’m gonna get to ride my Italian Stallion. He grips my ass and carries me to his bedroom, a part of the house I’ve never been to. We’re kissing so hungrily I don’t even get a chance to check out his bedroom. My back hits a fur bedspread. My dark black hair spreads across the bed. He lifts up my skirt, grips my underwear and works them down my hips, leaving a series of kisses in his wake.
I close my eyes and lose myself in his touch, opening them just in time to seem him take off his shirt. A fluff of black hair spackles his chest. I’ve never been with a man who has chest hair before, but on Lorenzo it’s incredibly sexy. He takes off his pants but pulls out a condom before dropping his slacks to the floor. His briefs hit the ground and his erection bounces out to greet me. Holy crap, my Italian Stallion is actually hung like a stallion. He’s quick with the condom and even quicker to climb on top of me. He stalls right before entering me. Why is he stalling?
“Everything, okay?” I ask him. I wiggle my hips; tickling the head of his dick.
He looks me in the eyes, quickly glances at his bedside table, shakes his head, and takes a deep breath before plunging deep inside me.
“Oh fuck!” I scream.
“La mia bella , si sente meraviglioso,” he moans. My beautiful you feel wonderful.
My nails dig into his back, my ankles curling around his hips. He’s so hung that I can feel him deep inside me—deeper than any man has ever been. My dress stayed on, but his mouth caresses my breasts from over the fabric, the sensation driving me wild. His hands curl into mine, our fingers intertwining. I’m moaning and screaming through each thrust. I’m so lost within our moment, that I don’t even notice the woman standing in the doorway until it’s too late.
“You son of a bitch!” The woman screams.
Lorenzo stills on top of me. He looks at the door in shock. “Bella, che non è quello che sembra.” Beautiful, it’s not what it looks like.
“Don’t give me that Italian bullshit, you cheating scumbag.” The woman doesn’t have an accent. Her blue-gray eyes flash to me; she’s practically writhing with hatred. Her blonde hair is tied up in a bun; she’s wearing a black pencil skirt and white blouse.
Lorenzo hops off me. I’m exposed: legs wide open, my vagina glaring her down like somehow she will disappear. Glancing over at the woman, I pull down my dress, scrambling to the headboard. When I get there, I notice a picture frame: Lorenzo, this woman, and a child at the park. Mother fuck, he’s married! I just fucked a married man who has a kid.
“Who the fuck are you?” the woman asks.
“Lorenzo’s girlfriend,” I reply carefully. “Who are you?”
“I’m his damn wife. Get the fuck out of my bed, you whore.”
“You’re fucking married?” I scream.
Lorenzo shrugs as if it’s no big deal. IT’S A HUGE FUCKING DEAL!
I jump to my
feet, scoop down to pick up my underwear and barely miss getting nailed by the high-heeled shoe flying past my head. I could feel the rush of air as it whipped past me and slammed against the headboard.
Ah shit, she’s chucking stilettoes.
The woman comes flying into the room, hopping on one foot as she shimmies her other heel off. I hit the ground and barrel roll out of the way as her next shoe barely misses my chest. Lorenzo, naked and still wearing our latex of shame around his dick, grabs his wife’s wrists and halts her from launching at me. Her hand comes around him and catches my shoulder; her perfect manicure digs into my skin, scratching me as I go.
“Don’t touch me, you cheating bastard. I’m gonna beat this bitch’s ass. Then I’m killing you and spitting down your damn throat.”
That’s my cue to get out while I can. I bolt out the door, stumbling to pick up my shoes, backpack, and laptop as I go. I hear her screaming after me. A vase crashes at my feet, shattering against the hardwood floor. I feel something smack the back of my head and I realize it’s a book—a romance novel of all things. Shit, that hurt.
My adrenaline is on high. Even though I’m being hit by housewife shrapnel, I manage to get out the door and into my car just as she starts pummeling my vehicle with anything she can get her hands on. When she runs out of ammo, she grabs a wooden bat leaning up against the house and races after me, I can’t find my keys and hit the lock button just as she rounds my car. God damn it, why does my purse have to be a key eating troll? My tail light shatters as she connects the bat to it. I swear under my breath and dump everything I own onto the front seat.
“I’m going to fucking kill you, slut,” she screams.
She has every right to be pissed off at me. I just got caught fucking her man. I’m the lowest of the low. I’m the other woman, a person I vowed never to be. Damn me and my Accent Hussy ways. If I wasn’t so blinded by his accent, I may have noticed he had a white ring around his finger, a sure sign of his union to the blonde she-beast from hell that’s currently beating the shit out of my car. Just as she takes out my side mirror, I find my keys; my car starts on the first try, and I peel away from Lorenzo’s house, leaving a cloud of smoke in my wake. Watching through my rear view mirror, I see the shoeless wife running after me, swinging the bat over her head like some crazy cavewoman.