by V. Kelly
I can feel the blush before it takes over my face. My whole body is warm with the memories of just how good Caleb’s dick really is with my pussy.
“She’s blushing; it’s so cute when she pretends not to like him. Reminds me of our dear little Breezy, and her denial of that magnificent chemistry between her and her husband. It’s the same with you, Everly. You’re denying the sparks between you and the sexy fighter.”
“I’m not denying that I’m attracted to him or the fact that his penis might as well be bronzed and hung up on my wall. I just don’t think he’s the right person for me.”
“Are we back on the accent thing again? Please tell me you aren’t holding out for someone with an accent. Everly, let me tick down the reasons why accents haven’t worked for you. You let a guy talk you into taking the fall for him and got yourself a record just because he talked like a fucking leprechaun. I love you to death, but Dearie, you are blinder than a girl with come in her eyes. You might as well have your eyes glued shut with jizz.”
“Oh my god, you’re so disgusting,” I say laughing.
“What, it’s true. Emma, tell them about the jizz incident.”
“I’d rather not,” Emma says, turning red.
“Oh come on, it’s priceless.”
“No,” Emma says quietly.
“Fine, I’ll tell it then. I’m a way better storyteller anyway. I talk with my arms and do shadow puppets. So there was this guy that Emma was seeing, who had a blowjob fetish. One day, she got all dressed up and went with him to this big gala. She went all out. Loads of makeup, pretty black dress, fuck me heels, and fake lashes. Key to this story is fake lashes. Remember that. Anyway, long story short, Mr. BJ fetish was getting a major dick swabbing from my beautiful cousin over here and was getting close. Without warning, he pulled out of her mouth and blew his wad all over her damn face. Which is fine . . . they’ve got towels for that shit. Unfortunately, chickadee here had her damn eyes open! Poor girl not only got her retinas burned by jizz, those precious fake eyelashes got stuck together. Between the glue, jizz, and fake eyelashes, she ended up going to the ER and had to explain what happened. The doctors still can’t explain why the glue and jizz fused together the way it did. Poor girl runs screaming anytime she sees fake eyelashes in the Halloween store now.”
“They’re evil. Like Chinese finger traps that you can’t get apart. Only they’re attached to your eyes. I’m telling you they are pure evil,” Emma shudders.
She looks completely mortified. Watching her facial expressions while Maggie told the story was downright hilarious. All of us laughed, including Emma. Maybe the girl is finally warming up to me.
“I tried fake lashes once; I ended up with a unibrow for an entire date because I didn’t realize it moved from my eye lashes to my forehead. Sad part was, the guy was Romanian. Women from his country have unibrows all the time. He thought it was normal,” I tell them hoping, to help Emma not be as embarrassed.
“Is there any nationality you haven’t been with?” Maggie asks, completely enthralled.
“A couple. Not many though,” I wink at her.
“So what’s the plan girls? Are we going to keep having the wrinkled pogo stick buy our drinks, or are we actually going to find some sexy hotness to fill our glasses?” Maggie looks around the room and then freezes. The smile on her face fades, and she starts slouching in her seat.
“Oh shit,” she whispers.
“What’s wrong, Maggie?” Emma asks.
“Cliff is here.”
“Fuck,” Emma hisses.
“Fuck is right. Big fuck! I should go. He hasn’t seen me yet.”
“What’s going on?” Breezy asks.
“Maggie’s ex is here. He’s a dick and a controlling bastard with a food fetish.”
“He’s a chef who likes to smear food all over people’s bodies and feed them until they almost puke. He gets his jollies off dating fat girls. He’s a god-damn chubby chaser. He’s also my ex fiancée; I was supposed to marry him.”
“What happened?” I ask.
“I really don’t want to talk about it,” Maggie grumbles, slinking down even further in her seat. She looks straight up petrified.
“He’s bad news,” Emma states. Maggie eyes Breezy’s untouched drink and downs it right after she slams hers.
“He’s a fucktard. You don’t have to leave Maggie. Show him exactly what he’s missing,” I tell her.
Maggie doesn’t say anything. She’s practically under the table. I glance over at her ex. I’m surprised by how incredibly gorgeous he is. He’s not Dashawn hot, but definitely sexy in that rugged man way. He’s incredibly tall, like lumberjack tall with a neatly kept beard and auburn hair. He’s sitting at the bar with a group of guys. They definitely notice our group, but he hasn’t noticed Maggie. He makes eye contact with me, winks, and then his head swivels through the group until he sees Maggie—that’s when his smile spreads and makes my skin crawl. He gets up from the stool he’s perched on and makes his way over to us.
“Maggie, is that you?” When she hears his voice, it’s like her whole body tenses. She’s frozen like a statue.
“Emma you’re looking nice, tonight.” He clips the word “nice” and they have a silent stare off before refocusing his attention to Maggie. “What’s it been, Maggie? Ten months? Eleven?”
“Two years,” Maggie answers.
“How could I forget? Yes, it has been two years. Two years since you broke my heart. Two years since I last touched your body. Two years of loneliness,” he laughs. I can’t tell if this is him being serious or being a sarcastic asshole.
Emma scoffs. “Please, the only thing you miss is controlling her.”
He darts an evil glare Emma’s way. I have to admit the way she’s dominating this conversation really has me changing my mind about her. Maybe she’s not so bad after all.
“It must be fate that brought us together again. I just opened a restaurant around the corner. You should come in sometime; I named a dessert after you. The Little Piggy.”
Fucking asshole. I can’t believe he just said that to her.
“It has all your favorite foods in it,” he smirks.
“How sweet, now buzz off jackass,” I seethe.
“Is that what you want, Maggie? For me to leave?” The way her ex looks at her makes me want to protect her. He’s claiming her with his eyes, dominating her with every word he speaks. I like it when Caleb dominates me, but it’s nothing like this. This is straight up abusive.
“Yes,” she whispers.
His hands come down angrily on to the table, making her jump and others turn to look our way. He brings his face so close to hers that he has to lean over the entire table. I eye a fork to my left and contemplate stabbing him in the temple. I’m already in trouble with the law, but I’m ready to do jail time to save my friend. She’s practically in tears, and it’s breaking my heart. This girl, the carefree, happy one I’ve come to love, is unraveling and it’s all because of her ex.
“Did you tell them how good I loved you? Remember how I used to pleasure each pound on your body. I accepted your fat beauty. I’m the one who loves you, Maggie. You may have lost some weight, but deep down, you will always be my Little Piggy.”
“That’s enough, Asshole. Say one more word to her and I’m going to stab you with my fucking fork. You need to leave.”
He looks over at me and winks. “I bet I could fatten you right up. You might actually be pretty with a little meat on your bones.”
I grab the fork from the table, but Emma stops my hand just before I jab at him.
“That’s enough, Cliff. Leave Maggie alone!” Emma commands.
Cliff’s spine straightens. “Yes, Madam.”
“We aren’t done, Little Piggy. You’ll be seeing me again,” he laughs maniacally and pushes off the table.
Maggie is in tears, causing him to grin like the Cheshire Cat. He abruptly turns and heads back to the bar with his friends.
“I nee
d to go,” Maggie suddenly yells, jumping up from the table.
“Maggie, wait!” Breezy screams after her. Maggie is gone before we even have time to react. “I’m texting Dashawn. I drove her here, so, I’m gonna go after her and take her home,” she tells us.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Emma grumbles. She gets up from the table and marches over to Cliff. I can’t hear what she is saying to him, but his demeanor changes immediately. After a few minutes, she comes back to the table with two more drinks, hands one to me, and downs hers.
“Fucking men, they aren’t fit to lick our shoes.”
“What about Tony?”
Her eyes flick over to me and she smiles. “Tony is different. I’ve never met a man like him before.”
“He’s a jackass,” I tell her. Guilt warms my cheeks. Here I am talking shit about her boyfriend, when just last summer I was riding his dick.
“Oh stop looking at me that way! I know you fucked Tony. Don’t worry; I won’t tell Max. I also know that you’re so hung up on this boxer guy that I have nothing to worry about. The problem is, Tony wants to change me, and I just don’t think I’m ready to change for any man.”
“You know about me and Tony, and you still talk to me?”
“You got spunk, Everly. I respect spunk. I respect any woman who can stand up for what she believes and keeps her man in place. The problem I do see with you, is that you’re young. Trust me, I love a man with an accent just as much as you do, but you can’t base a future off just a voice. A man is only as good as his character. You need to find a man who challenges you, one that keeps you on your toes, one that makes your heart race and your head spin. When you find that, that’s the man you need to keep—not one with a sexy voice.”
Every word she says rings true. I have all of that and more with Caleb. Am I being young and stupid for denying the chemistry we have? Should I just give in to all the temptations just being near him brings to me?
“I can see your wheels turning. My suggestion, give your fighter a try. What’s the worst that can happen? You fuck, you date, you break up, you end up being right about him the whole time. You already hate him now. If you don’t work out, nothing will change.” She air quotes the word hate and I frown.
She has a point. A good one. Maybe I will give Caleb a chance.
Maybe.
“So what about Tony? Does he challenge you? Keep you on your toes? Make your heart race and your head spin?” Emma stares blankly, but never answers me.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I tossed and turned over what happened at the bar all night. I couldn’t stop thinking about poor Maggie. I texted her to check on her, but she didn’t answer me. I texted Breezy next. She told me that she couldn’t get Maggie to stop freaking out. It wasn’t until she got home and into Dashawn’s arms that she finally started to calm down. You gotta love that Chocolate God of hers; he really knows how to handle her.
I thought a lot about everything. I thought about Hopscotch and how I was going to get through to her. I hate the way she cowers anytime a man comes her way. No matter how hard I try, she just won’t open up to me. I need to figure out how to get through to her. What can I say or do to make her fully trust me and let me in? I know something is seriously wrong with her, but until I can find out what it is, like Caleb said, I’m at a loss.
Fucking Caleb, like clockwork, that man invaded my dreams and I was thrown back into our night at Vegas: his massive hands exploring my body; the way his lips felt tracing my skin, following the contours of my body until it met the softness of my slit; and how his tongue invaded my insides swirling my clit, diving deep within me as I moaned his name, writhing beneath him. I remember those fucking fingers of his as they flirted with my ass, flicking at the hole as he pleasured me. I woke up just as dream Caleb plunged inside me, head was dripping with sweat. My fingers underneath the blankets playing with my clit. I ended up laughing about it, because seriously, who the fuck wakes up from a wet dream diddling themselves? Me, obviously.
My Caleb fantasy makes it almost impossible to function at both the gym and The Youth Center. This is especially so at The Youth Center, where Caleb is all over Kristene. I thought hard about what Emma said, but in the end, telling Caleb about the mixed feelings I’ve been having about him is pointless. I definitely didn’t want to say shit to him when he and Kristene walk through the door at the same time. She’s smiling, he’s laughing, and I’m ready to stab someone.
The day only gets worse from there. Something is seriously off with Hopscotch, more so than usual. I decide today is the day I’m going to get her to open up to me.
It’s almost four and the girls and I are sitting in the craft area making friendship bracelets. I notice that Hopscotch is sitting off by herself, barely participating. I excuse myself from NJ and BC and walk over to her, laying a friendly arm across her shoulders. The moment I touch her, she jumps and coils away from me.
“Hopscotch, are you okay?”
She looks up at me and I notice that her eyes have dark circles around them. She’s wearing a long sleeve t-shirt and baggy sweat pants. Her hair is tangled and matted to her head. She looks tired and sad, and I notice her cheeks are stained with tears. She jumps up from the chair and runs from the room.
NJ sidles up next to me and tugs on my shirt. “Hopscotch is part of the FCS. The family she lives with aren’t nice people. She doesn’t say anything but we think they hurt her.” The girls call the Foster Care System FCS; I notice that they abbreviate a lot of things, especially names.
“Hurt her how?”
NJ shrugs her shoulders. “She won’t tell us nothing. She’s our friend, but what goes on in her home, she doesn’t talk about.” I hug NJ and ask one of the volunteers to watch the girls while I go off and find Hopscotch.
When I find her, she’s talking to that creepy guy Stephen. I’m not liking the way he’s looking at her or the not-so-friendly hand he has way too low on her back. He glares at me when I walk up. Hopscotch lurches into my arms.
“She was crying; I was trying to console her,” he quickly says.
She pulls on my shirt and brings me down to her so she can whisper in my ear. “He touches me,” she whispers. I glare at him and my protective instincts take over.
I snatch her into my arms, even though she makes a sound of protest. I pick her up and carry her into the bathroom, sitting her on the counter. She’s crying and I grab a hand towel so I can wipe away her tears.
“What’s your real name?” I ask, starting the conversation.
“Holly,” she whispers.
“Where’s your parents?”
“I’m a foster care reject. Nobody wants me, not even my real mommy and daddy.”
“Oh I’m sure that’s not the case. You’re an amazing little girl. I’m sure you have a line of people waiting to adopt you.”
She blinks at me. “The only people who want me, hurt me.” Her words break me in two. Instantly, I’m feeling out of control. I want to protect her. I want to hurt everyone that has ever hurt her.
“Holly, you said that he touched you. What did you mean?” Holly looks at her feet. Her shoes have holes in them.I notice that her socks are red with blood.
“Like the people I live with. They touch me, too.”
“Can you show me how they touch you?”
She kicks her feet again and shakes her head. “I’m not supposed to tell.”
“It’s okay; you can tell me.”
She looks up at me with hopeful eyes. I can see the pain in them, too. This little girl has never had anyone care about her before.
“Mr. Peterson, my foster dad, he has that man over to the house sometimes. They like to take pictures of me and do stuff.” She’s crying now. “They hurt me. When I try to say stop, they hurt me even more.”
She lifts her shirt and shows me the bruises along her stomach. “They say they love me. Why does love hurt, Miss Everly?”
I’m crying so hard I can barely contain myself. I grab the pr
ecious little girl in my arms and hold her tightly. “It shouldn’t hurt, Holly. Love should never hurt like this. We’re going to get you some help okay? That way nobody can hurt you ever again.”
She nods and keeps her arms tight around my neck as I carry her from the room. I’m gentle with her, making sure I don’t touch any of her bruises. I’m quick on my feet and carry her into Trisha’s office. She’s working on some paperwork.
“I need you to keep her in here. Don’t let her out of your sight, Trisha. I’m going to talk to Mr. C.”
Trisha’s eyes widen. “He’s busy right now. You can’t go in there, Everly. You’ll have to wait.”
“I don’t care how busy he is. I need to talk to him and it’s going to happen right now.” I march out of her office while she sputters in dispute. Caleb’s door is closed. I’ve been warned when Caleb’s door is closed you don’t open it for any reason. Unfortunately, I have this very bad habit of doing the exact opposite of what Caleb wants, so I burst into his office.
On the couch is Kristene and Caleb. They’re making out and jump about five feet apart when I enter. Kristene glares at me. Caleb looks both amused and confused. He jumps up from the couch, straightening his collar that is slightly askew. What he didn’t plan on is the massive bright pink lip stain tattoo spread all across his mouth. “Get the fuck out, Everly. Can’t you see we’re busy?” Kristene snaps.
“I need to talk to you, Caleb, now.”
He looks from me to Kristene and smiles. “Kristene, can you give us a minute please?”
“Oh hell no! You’re not going to kick me out of your office right in the middle of us making out. I’ve waited eight months for this to happen and I’m not about to let some stupid felon cock block my time with you.” She turns and faces me. “I told you bitch, he’s mine. Now back the fuck off before I kick your ass.”