Cammers With Benefits (FWB Series Book 1)

by Kaylee Spring

  “Brice Reeves! Where on earth have you been? And who is this?”

  Nurse Ross’s voice no longer carries that Southern charm. She’s transformed into someone who looks like she lost her job as a librarian for being too stern with loud talkers. Bags under her eyes sag with the weight of a sleepless night.

  I bite my lips and realize that I should have spent the quiet walk here thinking of an excuse for this exact situation. Instead I spent the time wondering what Brice was thinking and where in the world we’re supposed to go from here. Our lives aren’t even remotely recognizable compared to what they used to be, but somehow we need to pick up the pieces and build something even better than before. Considering these thoughts, there really wasn’t enough room in my head to figure how I was going to explain away the fact that I was wearing nurse’s scrubs when I obviously didn’t belong in them.

  Thankfully, Brice comes to my rescue.

  “My girlfriend kidnapped me at my request. I didn’t realize it was a crime to leave the hospital.”

  Nurse Ross still holds onto her stern demeanor, but the tension keeping her lips tight together loosens, even if just a fraction. “There’s no law, but there is a rule about checking out for more than three hours. Especially considering the condition you’re in. I can tell just by looking at you that you haven’t been hydrating. We’ll need to get you hooked up to an IV right away. You may be feeling better, but your body still needs rest to heal.”

  When the nurse finishes this tirade, I don’t wait around to hear if there’s more to come. Instead, I lean my weight forward, holding my breath and hoping this is the end of it. I don’t know why, but I feel like I’m back in school being berated by teachers for not completing my homework on time. I only get three steps before that crotchety voice stops me dead once more.

  “One more thing. Where did you get those scrubs?”

  I can’t exactly admit that we were worried Tuesday would be blamed so we switched clothes in case the security tapes were examined. But there really is no other explanation that would make sense.

  None except for one.

  “Do you really want to know how we role-play in the bedroom?” Brice asks the older nurse, effectively staining her cheeks an embarrassed rosy red. When the phone rings, she pauses before answering it, as though her brain needs time to reboot. But then she’s reciting a tired welcoming phrase, her voice back to normal and her eyes avoiding us.

  With a bit of extra pep in my step, I wheel Brice into the hospital room, and when the door is closed behind us, I slap him on the back of the head. Playfully, of course. “That’s how we role-play?”

  He shrugs. “I didn’t hear you coming up with anything better. Plus, it got her off our back.”

  “More importantly, it gave me an idea of what we can do now that we’re finally alone.”

  Brice’s eyebrows come up in little questioning curves. I then help him hobble into the hospital bed. It’s neither graceful nor easy, but with him putting his weight on his mostly good leg, and me grunting like I’m giving birth, we finally get lying down. Then I take the now empty wheelchair and jam it against the door. It’s not exactly going to keep someone out if they’re really determined, but it will at least give us ample warning before a nurse barges in.

  When I straighten up from securing the door, I strike my best sexy pose. There’s no part of me that wishes to look in the mirror and see how bad I really look. My make-up is nonexistent since I never had a chance to apply any before rushing off to the studio that is now probably nothing more than ashes. Not to mention my hair is all out of sorts. It’s been a long time since I woke up yesterday morning, and as much as I would love to just collapse on the bed and fall asleep beside Brice, I’ve caught a second wind, and I’m not about to let it go to waste.

  Although I was a cammer for six months, and working professionally for the past two, I’ve never really dipped my toes into role-play. I did plenty of acting, but I was always playing a version of myself. So even though I feel a bit silly saying the next words, I go for it anyway, because if Brice made an excuse of us role-playing, that must mean it was on his mind at some point. Now it’s time for me to be on him.

  “It looks like someone hasn’t been following the doctor’s orders.”

  Brice’s face blooms into one huge smile, his eyes widening at the thought of what’s about to come. “Oh, so we’re really doing this?”

  I saunter across the room, swaying my hips and tilting my head to the side as I pretend to study his chart. “Yes, yes. It says right here that you skipped your physical therapy today. I guess we’re going to have to remedy that right now, aren’t we?”

  All Brice can do is nod his head like a silly boy hoping to get his dessert before his dinner. I throw my legs up on the bed and straddle him, but when I put my weight on his legs, his groans are not of pleasure but of pain.

  “Oh, shit,” I say in a panic, leaping off him and breaking my sexy nurse character.

  “It’s fine.” He rubs at his thigh, groaning with the pressure as I shift my weight off him. I can tell that it is very much not fine.

  I might have been stupid to initiate this. To think that he was healed enough. But even though I feel shitty for hurting him, his thin hospital gown is doing nothing to hide the raging erection lifting the fabric like a small summit I can’t help but conquer.

  If I can’t ride him, there’s really only one other option.

  As I climb off Brice, I’m sure he’s got it in his head that I’m giving up. Which is why he grabs at my arms, saying, “I can work through the pain.”

  The desperation in his voice is cute. It’s also reassuring to know that I still have this effect on him. Just a few hours ago, I thought I was losing him. His cock is a firm reminder that I still hold the same power over him that I did that first night in front of the laptop. Maybe even more now.

  When I’m fully off the bed, his grip loosens as he seems to give into the fact that sexy times are over. He doesn’t figure out that it’s only just begun until I lift his gown up and take the full length of his cock in my mouth without even the slightest hesitation.

  “God, Tess,” he groans out, his left hand gripping at the mattress and his right digging into my hair and scraping at my scalp.

  If I’m completely honest, this position isn’t exactly comfortable. My back is bent at an awkward angle as I hover over him, trying not to put any weight on his legs. But when I shift a bit and lean against the railing on the bed, I find a position that should last me until I make him cum. Not that it’s going to take very long.

  Brice is already pressing his hips against me as his hand pulls me down. I almost gag as his dick hits the back of my throat, but I hold it back. I may have been busy getting myself off in front of the camera these past few weeks, but it seems that Brice hasn’t hadn’t any release since the last time we were together. So there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s going to cum fast and he’s going to cum hard, just so long as I keep this rhythm up.

  When his legs tense up and he pushes into me one last time, deeper than any of the times before this, I know that he’s seconds away from exploding inside my mouth. So I keep going, throwing myself into the motion, making sucking noises that probably sound the opposite of sexy, but he doesn’t seem to care. Because in the next moment, his semen is filling my mouth. His hands are gripping almost painfully in my hair, and he’s holding his breath as he quivers against my lips.

  When he finally falls back against the bed, all the tension melting away, I slide off his cock. This earns an extra shiver from him and he remembers that his fingers are tangled up in my hair. After releasing his grip, he rubs his hand down my head like I’m a favorite pet.

  “That was incredible,” he says in breathy little gasps. I love that I can get him off like this, and his basking in the post-orgasmic experience is just a cherry on top of the cake.

  “Sorry it took so long to get around to that.” I smack my lips and swallow again. “You’ve been sa
ving it up for a while now, haven’t you?”

  “I just wish there was something I could do for you.”

  Me too, I think but keep this opinion to myself. The fact is that he needs to heal more before we can engage in any vigorous activity. So when he guides me to lie on the bed with him, snuggling up behind me and wrapping his arm around me, I think nothing of it beyond the fact that this is what I’ve been missing the past few weeks. I’ve been needing this, like an addict craves the next hit. Going cold turkey just left me feeling like I’d been left out at night, shivering and forgotten.

  But a renewed warmth starts in my heart, like the emotion is overflowing, spreading to the rest of my body as the awareness hits me: this isn’t just what I always want; Brice is what I need.

  It’s not long before the exhaustion of the past few days comes down on me like a warm wave, and I feel myself drifting off. The only thing keeping me tethered to the waking world is Brice’s hand as it slips past my belly button and under the hem of my loose-fitting scrubs. When his fingers sneak under my panties and slide across my clit, I bite my lips, trying to hold the moan in.

  I didn’t know how wet I’d gotten going down on Brice. I part my legs just enough to give him more access. One finger presses inside of me and I shift on my hips, pushing against his touch. Having just been on the edge of sleep has left me with all my defenses down. I forget where I am and allow myself to groan as he slides in and out of me, his thumb rubbing circles around my clit. The pressure builds quickly, especially when his other hand comes around from under my head, his forefinger pressing inside my mouth.

  I suck on it while I cum, trapping his hand between my tense thighs, shivering as my brain releases the last of the dopamine, which washes over every nerve in my body, leaving me utterly relaxed and perfectly content.

  With Brice curled up around me, there’s no fighting sleep any. One moment I’m fantasizing about what the future will bring between me and Brice, and the next I’m waking up to banging on the door.

  “Open this door this instant,” comes the agitated voice of Nurse Ross. I can hear her calling down the hallway, requesting security. But before they can show up, I leap out of Brice’s grasp and drag the wheelchair out from where I had jammed it under the door handle. I then go to open the door, but it swings open with enough force that it thwacks me in the face. Something in my nose clicks, and then I’m on the ground, blood gushing out between fingers clutching at my face.

  “Of all the childish things to do,” the constipated-looking Nurse Ross from earlier is muttering as she barges in. But her face drops when she sees me huddled on the ground. “Oh, Sweet Lord. What have I done?”

  She’s helping me up, but her attention quickly turns to Brice. He’s awake and watching this disaster with a horrified look.

  “Are you alright?” he asks.

  The nurse takes a hold of my chin, lifting my head so I’m looking at the ceiling. She tilts her head left and then right. “I don’t think it’s broken, but an X-ray wouldn’t hurt. Let’s get you down to the ER and have you checked out.” She looks between us one last time and shakes her head. “First your little stunt last night. Then blocking the door? I was this close to banning you from the hospital. But I guess that’s not going to happen now. Not if I want to keep my job. So how about a deal? You keep quiet about this, and I’ll keep quiet about everything else.”

  I nod, afraid to talk because I’m sure I’ll just get blood in my mouth. As she leads me out into the hallway, Brice calls out after me.

  “Nothing’s ever boring with you, is it?”

  No, I guess it’s not.

  Chapter 19

  Four Months Later

  Brice looks me up and down as we exit the hospital. Although he’s got a noticeable limp, he’s walking on his own beside me. And Tuesday has reassured us that after six more months of physical therapy, he’ll be as good as new. Minus all the bars fused permanently to his bones.

  “Wasn’t dyeing it blue enough? Did you have to chop it all off too?”

  I rub my fingers through my new hairstyle. It’s the shortest I’ve ever worn it. “You have no idea how much it's helped with getting recognized.”

  So much has happened in the past three months that it feels like years have passed since that night I almost slept with Jack.

  For the first month after reuniting with Brice, I couldn’t even get nervous about the release of my new ‘Choose Your Own Sex-venture’ video series that Greg was putting all of his attention into now that his studio had burnt down. Because I was pretty sure I knew who the fire starter was: me. So when I got the call from Greg that the fire department had finished their preliminary investigation and ruled that it was indeed arson, I didn’t sleep for days.

  Then Sally was arrested.

  “It was Sally?” I asked Greg when he called to deliver the news.

  I could practically hear him shrug his shoulders when he answered, “That’s what the cops are saying. Lighter fluid in the wardrobe room with a bottle that still had her prints on it. She’s not saying anything, but she better hope she’s got a good lawyer, because she’s sure as hell going to pay. I just wish I knew why she did it.”

  After the heavy weight of guilt slid off my shoulders, it took me all of three seconds to realize why Sally had done what she did. I remember all too clearly the way Greg had treated her that first day Brice and I showed up at the studio. He said she used to be a star, but the woman I saw sitting behind the front desk appeared to have been chewed up and spit out like gristle. No one in this industry has a long shelf life, and the longer you hang around, the more degrading it’s going to get.

  Which is why I’m glad I got out when I did. Though from the constant stares I get in coffee shops and on the street, it feels like I’m still neck deep in it.

  Sally’s storm blew over fast and made way for the advent of my new video series. Greg never told me how much advertising money he threw into getting it out there, but overnight it seemed like I was a celebrity that no one would acknowledge. At least a dozen guys a day would glance over me, but as soon as they recognized me, they turned pale and would pretend like I was invisible. Usually because they were with a significant other. But there was the odd guy, always awkward and usually smelling of body odor, who would march right up to me, introduce himself, and give me a rundown of how many times he’d gotten off to my videos.

  Gross.

  Hence the hair cut and dye. Hence the sunglasses that cover half my face. But for as many times as I regretted ever filming that series, I was a thousand times more grateful when the first paycheck rolled around.

  “Now, I know what we agreed on,” Greg was saying as he handed over an envelope at the same diner we first met at on that morning after. He looks to have lost a bit of weight. Not only that, but he doesn’t order the deluxe breakfast, instead opting for a simple plate of toast, egg, and grapefruit. “But due to extenuating circumstances, your first paycheck is going to be a bit of an anomaly.”

  Immediately my mind goes to all the ways Greg is currently screwing me. His makeover is obviously the result of a large windfall. He’s finally been able to get his shit together because he’s got a bit of cash in his pocket. Not only from the insurance payout, but I’m suspecting from all my hard work. Hard work that followed an idea that was solely mine. He might have backed up my project financially and done a lot of the legwork in regards to setting up the website and all that stuff, but that’s the whole reason we had a solid agreement set out from the beginning.

  Now he’s breaking it.

  “You’ve got to be shitting me,” I say, barely paying attention as I open the envelope. All I can think of is how much I want to slap that shit-eating grin off Greg’s face right now. He looks so pleased with himself. Obviously he’s found some loophole in our contract that gives him the ability to cut me out of the money I deserve. Or maybe it was there from the very beginning and this was always a part of his plan. “After all the work I did for you even wh
ile Brice was in the hospital suffering. Do you know what it’s like to film twelve hours a day? Do you know what kind of chafing that…?”

  My words fall away as all focus in my brain turns to the numbers on the paper before me. Greg wasn’t lying. This isn’t what we agreed on.

  It’s much, much more.

  “I’m guessing you haven’t gone online much in the past couple of weeks.”

  I shake my head. I’ve been plenty busy at the hospital every day, helping Brice during his physical therapy sessions and giving him a few private sessions late at night when the nurses are less likely to barge in and ruin our fun.

  “Let’s just say that there are already copycat websites popping up, but their content isn’t quite up to snuff. No one has had time to film all the scenes they’d need, so they’re just cobbling together footage they already have. The good news is that the competitors’ lackluster attempts to imitate us are only making our series shine all the more. That payment is just from the first round of payments we’ve received. There will be more coming soon.”

  I open my mouth, but words still don’t come out. I was expecting enough money to maybe buy a used car. This is enough for a down payment on a house. And not a modest one either.

  “Just don’t expect every payment to be this big. They’ll dwindle as the months go by. Especially since we’re not going to be shooting any new footage.”

  “Did Brice tell you that I was quitting?” I ask, confused.

  Greg nods his head as if confirming a suspicion he had. “I didn’t actually know for sure until just now, but I suspected. What I meant was that I’m done. I’ve been doing this since college, putting off other dreams and such. I think we both have enough money not to worry about things for a while, so I want to wish you luck.” He juts his hand out between us, and I remember when we first met in person. Back then I saw only his disgusting qualities, but through all of this—while I can’t say that he’s become a friend—Greg hasn’t been a terrible boss. “I wish you well.”