She stands and pretends she's dusting off her hands, being dramatic as Meredith usually is. "Any questions?"
"And after?"
"Replace his trunks, stand, and walk away without saying a word. He won't know what hit him, and I can almost guarantee he'll be in your bed by morning."
She turns toward the bathroom stalls. I follow her line of vision to a couple of girls standing at the sinks staring and listening. This is awkward. "I'm so trying that when I get home," one girl wearing a white sash with the word bride across it says, breaking the silence. Her short veil on her head confirms this must be her bachelorette party.
"No shit," another retorts. "Hubs would love that. You should explain that to more women. That explanation makes it actually seem fun. Being asked just turns me off."
"Want to keep your men interested girls...then blow him once in a while. He'll be wrapped around your damn finger." She looks at me. "You ready, sweets?"
I grab my tray where she laid it and adjust my dress to ensure everything is covered. "Yeah, I've been in here way longer than I should anyway. Drake would be pissed."
I follow her back out into the club. Ironically, I have more confidence now. Now, I just need to execute. Excitement builds in my core. My goal is to take him by surprise, in technique and action. I just need to repeat that conversation in my head until it's stuck, and actually make it through the entire night without giving myself away, which may be easier said than done, because when he looks at me and flirts, I go completely blank...
***
We pull into the drive and he shuts off his truck, both of us exiting at the same time. It's already 3AM. Maybe it won't take him long to go to sleep. I'd rather do this while darkness is still on my side. The truck sounds as he presses the button on the remote, locking it. "Want to go around back for a few before bed?"
"Sure," I say, following him to the gate.
He opens it for me and allows me to enter first. I walk through and instantly head toward one of the seats that surround the fire pit. He sits beside me, reaching in his pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. "I haven't seen you do that since the night outside of my apartment."
He places it between his lips and lights the end, inhaling as he sets the lighter and pack beside him. He smiles at me, and instantly my heart begins to race. He releases the cloud of smoke into the night air, holding the filter between his thumb and index fingers. "That's because I don't smoke from need. I smoke when I want to. It's a bad habit that I indulge in occasionally, because I like it; usually when I'm tense or uptight about something."
I turn in my chair, pulling my leg up along the way so that I can face him; probably not a very ladylike gesture given I'm wearing a dress. "Oh yeah? What are you uptight about? I'm curious."
He eyes me quickly, and then shrugs as he takes another hit, the paper burning down each time he sucks on the filter. I've always thought smoking was gross, but he kind of makes it sexy. Gah, that sounds so dumb, but when we kissed on the last night I witnessed him doing it, I didn’t even notice the taste of it, because he’s all I can think about. It probably wouldn't have the same effect if he did it regularly. It kind of gives him that bad boy edge. "That guy touching you for one, watching guys eye you in the club as you walked away from the bar. I didn't like it...at all. Another - seeing how beautiful you look when you're in a comfortable state, unlike the night I met you. You kind of fit in there. I didn't realize it until tonight. You do well in big crowds. I just don't think you've figured it out yet."
Each time he comments about me being beautiful, my heart feels like it's going to burst through my chest. I feel like I'm walking on clouds: weightless and happy. "Guy? What guy? Oh, you mean Liam?"
He breathes out again, this time tilting his head back. "That would be the one. If we were in a normal situation, with no cameras, no one watching our every move, I would have pummeled him right in the face. It pissed me off to say the least."
"Why? He was just being stupid. He's nice when he's not trying to hit on you. That's when he gets annoying."
He takes the final drag off the cigarette, leaving nothing but the filter, and then tosses what's left into the pit and stands. His eyes never leave mine as he walks toward me, before leaning down and placing his hands on the arms of my chair, forming a barricade. "Because you never assume someone is single for starters. The way he touched you is the way only I should touch you. That's how someone gets fucked over."
“But didn’t you kind of do that when you kissed me that night in the club?”
I don’t know where that question came from. Maybe I’m just curious to know why he did it in the first place.
“I did. It was wrong. I should have asked you before I kissed you, but the way you reacted to me I knew you couldn’t possibly have a boyfriend, especially being used to men in bars. The problem is I don’t think with you. I act. Regardless, I still assumed until the moment I did ask… Too late.”
He's so close I can smell the cigarette on his breath. "For the record, I’m glad you did, and just so you know, I would never have let him touch me," I whisper, treading around his agitated tone.
"It doesn't matter. That's the way everyone feels at first. All it takes is the right person to come along and fuck up everything for someone else. Some people even get off on getting someone that is taken to cross that line."
"I didn't do anything wrong, Saxton."
"I never said you did. You don't get it do you? Why I’m so aggravated… He saw me standing there with you and he still touched you in a way that only your boyfriend touches you, with no regard for your relationship status...because he didn't care. No one cares about commitment anymore, or preserving it for that matter. What if I hadn't been standing there? How far would he have gone to get you to give in? Then, after you give in once, it gets so much easier to do it over and over; all while lying beside someone else at night whose heart is breaking one piece at a time, because he's in love with her, and she's in love with lust, even though she wants to play house."
His mouth shuts and his jaw locks, as he stares at me. I literally cannot breathe. Oh my god. He's vulnerable. He's scared. He's scarred. He's broken. I'm outside of my element. I don't know what to do or say. I can't feel or think. Instead, anger washes over me. I'm mad that I'm taking the heat for what someone else obviously did with no cause. I'm mad that the decent ones always get screwed over; making it harder for the people that would never do someone that way to find a good person. I'm mad that someone else would hurt him, but more than that I'm sad. I'm sad that he's obviously been hurt before.
My heart begins to beat, stronger and louder. I grab his shirt, pulling him toward me so that I can only whisper. "But I'm not her, Saxton. I'm not her," I repeat. He closes his eyes, refusing to look at me. "Sax..."
He finally looks at me, regret all over his face. He clearly didn't mean for it to go this way, but the way it looks he's had things locked inside for a while, building and aging. "I don't need anyone else, because you're enough for me."
He scans my eyes, but then stands upright, pulling a mask over his face with a small smile. "Let's go to bed, beautiful. It's late."
I breathe out, defeated, because he's obviously done with this conversation for tonight. I nod, standing when he holds out his hand for mine and walking past him, toward the door. I want him to talk to me, but I will not beg him. I don't stop until I get to my room. I can hear his footsteps not far behind me the entire way. Bracing myself on the doorframe, I don't look back. "Goodnight, Saxton."
"Kambry..."
I walk inside and shut the door, making sure I'm quiet as a mouse on the other side. A few moments later I hear his door shut, and as if on cue a tear falls from the corner of my eye. As I walk to my bed I shuck my shoes, before grabbing the bottom of my dress and pulling it over my body, dropping it on the floor. I pull the small, folded stash of cash from the corner of my bra and lay it on the table with my phone - the place it never left - and then remove my bra. Fumbl
ing around in the dark, I reach in the top drawer of the nightstand and grab a tank to put on, before turning down my blanket and getting into bed.
My phone vibrates and lights up a small section of the room. I grab it and open the message.
Saxton: You'll never be her. You're better. Goodnight, Kambry.
I lock the phone and replace it on the table without answering, and then roll over. I'm filled with sorrow and I'm really confused as to why. I feel hurt, but no one's hurt me. I feel betrayed, yet there is no betrayer. I feel heartbroken without remembering what it was like to experience the love that precedes it.
More tears fall down my nose. I close my eyes to try and sleep, but all I can see is Saxton lying in bed beside a girl whose face is blurred. She's lying on her back and he's on his side, holding her; all while in her heart she knows she's committed the ultimate betrayal. She gave her body to a man while it belonged to someone else, and then she did it again...and again, while his heart remained faithful to hers.
Now his heart is closed off, because it hasn't forgiven the one that caused it so much pain...and that's what makes me saddest of all.
I tighten my eyes as my heart fills my head in on a secret. "Of course. I feel what he felt, because I'm falling in love with him...for real. Please don't hurt me," I whisper. "Don't hurt me..."
My eyes pop open, still heavy, but I feel panicked as if I fell asleep cramming for an exam. I roll over and grab my phone, checking the time. 4:03. I sit up, having an epiphany. No more of this bullshit. If I want him, I have to step up my game by a lot. I have to be someone he can't walk away from so easily. I signed up for porn, well a porn star is what he's going to get. I wanted to be someone else. I wanted to find myself. I wanted to be my own person. Now is my chance.
I throw the covers off of me and quietly get out of bed, grabbing my phone and turning on the flashlight. Where is that nightie from the sex shop? Game on. I'm finally ready to play hardball.
After quietly stumbling around a few times, I find it, before quickly putting it on and adjusting it into place. I grab the matching panties that accompany it and change into them, ready to go. I'm forgoing the heels. I don't need them. I turn off the flashlight on my phone when everything is on properly, and quickly look down at my cleavage the best that I can see. There is a small beam of light coming through the crack of the curtains. It's not much, but it's enough to make sure I'm not hanging out but revealing just enough.
When I get to the door I stop, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves. "You can do this," I whisper. "Every girl goes through this brief moment of second guessing, surely. How hard could it be?" I recall every moment that Meredith made a comment about his size, surely knowing the difference from seeing a few, since I can't really compare. "It's just a dick. It's just a dick."
I place my hand in front of my mouth for a breath check. No immediate foul odors register, so I think I'm good. Pushing my shoulders back, I turn the door handle and open it slowly, trying not to make any noise. With my first step forward, I push up on my tiptoes and quietly make my way down the short stretch of the hall to his door.
I stop, continuing to breathe evenly in hopes the slight convulsions my body is making without my consent will cease. There is no better motto right now than Nike's: Just do it.
I turn the handle of the door as I exhale, hoping to keep it slow and steady. When the handle's end is pointing toward the floor, I place my palm against the wood and push the door open, but only enough for me to slip through.
I shouldn't feel like the psycho in a thriller or scary movie right now, but standing here watching him sleep, I kind of do. It's a little creepy even for me, but he's beautiful. He never pulled his curtains or closed his blinds, so the moonlight is beaming through the crevices, creating shadow lines across his face. He's lying on his back on top of the comforter, one arm outstretched across the bed holding his phone, and the other bent and resting across his forehead.
My hand immediately finds my chest. Was he waiting on me to text him back? That makes me feel like total crap. I don't know why a man in nothing but boxer briefs is so sexy, but it is. Why am I still standing here?
I tiptoe across the room, freezing when he begins to stir. He releases his phone from his hand and it immediately goes for his crotch, dipping beneath his trunks, creating a mound. My lips purse together. Is he afraid it's going to disappear? How am I supposed to not laugh right now?
I close my eyes and count, calming myself. When his hand leaves his trunks and stops on his stomach, I start to walk the rest of the way, until I'm standing at the foot of the bed.
No turning back now.
I place my knee on the bed and allow my weight to shift, pulling the other on just after. His legs are slightly spread already, leaving enough space for me to crawl between, so I do. When I touch his thighs he jumps, his head jerking forward, a sound of startle escaping from his mouth. No words just sounds.
His eyes blink repeatedly as he stares at me standing on my knees, as if he's trying to get them to focus. "Kambry? Is everything okay? What's wrong?"
Instead of answering, I bend forward and grip my hands around the waistband of his briefs, exactly as Meredith told me to, and start to pull them down his hips. As she said he starts to lift off the bed, allowing me to work them over his butt. "What are you doing?"
"Shhh."
I release them once they hit his thighs, glancing at what I came in here for. It does look a little...different, lying in a more relaxed fit over his balls. Still, even soft he doesn't look small like I would have imagined. It's definitely not as big, but it's not small either.
I lean down and kiss the inside of his thigh as I grab his dick, running my lips over the layer of hair. The closer I get to the center of his legs, the more he spreads them. He's already hardened some since I grabbed it in my hand, making it harder, thankfully, because in this state I want to squeeze it, like a stress toy. When my eyes set on it, positioned upright, every worry and self-conscious thought leaves, and is replaced with desire and want. I want to do this, and that's when my mouth navigates toward it, my tongue inching out as I reach the head, swiping across the top.
By the time I wrap my mouth around the top, it's already completely hard; the way I remember it. I didn't even really notice the transition. I swirl my tongue around the head, wetting it, before pushing my mouth down the length, trying to keep my teeth back. I can hear his breathing pick up, but I don't look at him. Instead, I focus on what I'm doing, which is taking him into my mouth as far as I can, breathing through my nose the entire way.
My saliva immediately begins to increase. I stop when I know I can't go any further and change directions, suctioning as I go, and allowing my tongue to caress the underside until it reaches the dip, flick my tongue a few times, and then I start the process over. Each time I get faster than the one before. He's so hard, so thick, and I can even feel the ridges where veins are.
He hasn't said anything, but I try to put it in the back of my mind. He fills my mouth completely, and I can only go down his length about halfway before the tip is at the back of my throat, and I'm scared to go any further.
I wonder...
When my mouth is at the head, I place my hand at the center and twist, before spreading my saliva down his length with my hand. I take him into my mouth again as far as I can, and then I mimic the motions of my mouth with my hand, creating a full stroke instead of a half. Instantly I feel him push his pelvis up a little. "Shit," he whispers. One word and I'm motivated for more. A rush surges through me and I increase the speed to a steady, fast pace, holding my weight by my knees and my free hand on the bed.
The more I suck the hornier I become. I feel wet between my legs. I moan around his dick by accident. He fists his hand in my hair and pulls, causing me to suck harder. "Fuck, Kambry. I'm about to nut. Stop."
I disregard his request, continuing. The faintest pulse occurs and then the first spurt hits the back of my tongue. I pull back, leaving only the top porti
on in as he continues to fill my mouth with his cum. It's warm, salty, and creamy in consistency."
I pull off when he stops, looking at him for the first time, not saying anything: unable to. "Shit. Sorry."
He reaches over the bed and hands me his shirt. "Spit it in here."
I grab it from him and place it over my mouth with both hands; disposing of the substance I can't bring myself to swallow, yet at least. I toss it on the floor. He gives me a lazy grin. "What was that for?"
I pull his briefs back up with his help, leaving them in their original position, and then kiss the area of skin just above the elastic band that represents the brand, before standing on my knees and backing down the bed until I can reach down and touch the floor with my feet. "Goodnight, Saxton."
Without another word I leave his room and return to mine, not stopping until I reach my bed. I turn around, glancing at the now shut door, before falling backward until my back and head hits the mattress. I stare at the ceiling, the biggest grin developing on my face. "That was such a rush," I whisper, unable to contain the words. "Holy crap."
My door swings open and I prop myself up on my elbows. He stalks toward me, all sexy hunk of a man in his underwear, making me nervous, but then catches me off guard when he grabs my head and crushes his lips to mine. My response hums between us in the form of a contented, muffled sigh.
Sex Sessions: Uncut (Camera Tales #1) Page 31