"You don't need makeup."
"Yeah right. Nice try though."
"Calling me a liar?"
"You don't have to say things like that. I'll let you in my pants regardless."
"That's what you think?"
"Isn't it though?"
My teeth clench together. "Kneeing me in the balls would hurt less than that statement."
I walk forward, our eyes locked on one another. "Words hurt sometimes."
I narrow my eyes at her. "This attitude doesn't look good on you, Kambry. Why don't you just save it and tell me what's really bothering you."
"I. Said. I'm. Fine," she says through gritted teeth. "Just let me get ready, please."
"No. I'm not going anywhere until you tell me which part of what I said upset you. We can stay here all night if you want, but we're not going anywhere until you let it out."
I grab her face, holding her from turning away. "Please don't do this to me. Just let me be mad. Just let me fester in my own hurt and get over it. It's way less painful than the alternative. I'm just being a brat any-"
Leaning in, I kiss her, unable to stand any more of this tension. It's only been a little while, but already I can't stand it. I like that we joke and have a good time constantly. This, I don't like, because the thought of actually fighting with her makes me crazy. When the warmth of our tongues tangle, she moans against my mouth and I reach down and grip her ass firmly in my hands, sliding her up my body.
I shove the items on the dresser back and set her down, her head bumping against the mirror when I press between her legs. I can feel heat on my pelvis, just above my tucked towel, coming from her center. My lips run over her chin and down her neck. She tilts her head to elongate it more. "You always do this to me. The mood swings are driving me nuts."
"Me too," I whisper against her skin.
As if I just slapped her, she places her palms on my chest and shoves me back. "Don't say that shit to me."
"What?"
She hops off the dresser, but I block her in, placing my palms to each side of her on the wood. "What the fuck is it, Kambry?"
"Stop saying things like that; pretending you feel things. Those things don't make you happy. You don't want that stuff. You said yourself you didn't know if the benefits of a couple were worth the risk; so don't take it. Don't confuse me, Saxton. It's not fair."
"That's what this is about, isn't it?"
She looks away from me, and then swipes underneath her eye. Fuck! I keep forgetting she is so much more sheltered and innocent than most girls. Everything is going to be taken to heart with her. Damn. I didn't even mean it like that. "Kambry, look at me, baby."
"Will you please just go get ready? I'm just being stupid. I'm just confused. Just forget I said anything. Please."
I lift her and place her back on the dresser, then force her to look at me. Her eyes are glossy. Her face is lacking the glow and smile she normally has. I feel like I'm dying inside, knowing she's upset. "Kambry..." I rub her bottom lip with my thumb, trying to calm her, like I often do. "Sometimes communication is different between guys and girls. Guys are simple and straight to the point, not thinking of what exactly is coming out of their mouths. It's like tossing something out of a window without a screen. There is no filter to keep it inside when it has no business being outside. Girls... Well they wear their feelings on their sleeves more times than not. They dissect body language, every word spoken, and every silent gesture, usually making a big problem out of nothing at all. It's not a bad thing. It's just how you were made. Does that make sense?"
"I just wasn't expecting the first time I told a guy I was falling for him and he actually feel the same, to then have him turn it into a horrible thing. These feelings are all new to me. I feel like I'm crazy. I'm probably just a stage five clinger."
She breaks into tears. I blink. Then, the inevitable happens. I laugh, that dreadful laugh at the wrong damn time, the worst time. The one you can't smother on command. Like a virus it has to run its course. She cries harder. "Why are you laughing at me? Get out."
"Kambry," I cough, trying hard to stop my uncontrollable laughing. "I'm not laughing at you."
"Yes you are! Don't lie to my face. You're such an ass," she says in a crying whine.
"No I'm not. I'm laughing because you could never be classified as a stage five clinger. Do you know what those girls are like?"
Her face becomes smooth. New tears cease, abandoning the ones that have already fallen. "Not like this?"
"No, baby. Not like this. Those girls imagine an entire relationship in their heads and actually believe it, chasing after the guy, stalking, doing irrational things. Those girls are hard to escape. If you actually sleep with her, you're screwed. I had a friend in high school actually wake up in the middle of the night to his ex-girlfriend standing in his room. Her excuse – she was getting a necklace she left at his house – his parents’ house. In the middle of the night, just standing next to his bed, watching him sleep. Bullshit. She was just crazy. She had snuck through his window because he left it unlocked. She also faked several pregnancies. She...was a stage five clinger."
"Oh."
"Kambry, I need you to listen. Okay?"
"Okay."
"When I said those things, I was mostly thinking out loud. Let me try to explain. You know how to cook, right?"
"Yeah. I didn't really have a choice in the matter."
"Okay, so, imagine cooking for years, but then one night while cooking one of your favorite meals, something you've done hundreds of times, something goes wrong. Halfway through you burn yourself by laying your palm down on the wrong eye of the cooktop. It burns through layers of skin, down to the tissue. You suffer weeks or months of pain waiting on it to heal, depending on how deep the burn is, and deal with the misery of only having one usable hand. You've been eating takeout the entire time. You've gotten used to the convenience, you walked away from the source of pain alive, you've eliminated the cause of the misery, and you found an alternate way to survive while you healed. You've become accustomed to the new way, but one day you see an advertisement for your favorite food, and then all of the cravings come back. You think about it often and no one else makes it quite like you, but being scared of getting burned again keeps you away from the stove. In your head you try every possible way to rationalize your insecurity and paranoia, but the seed has already been planted and is starting to grow. You want to enjoy the meal, but you're terrified of letting yourself try again. At some point the desire drives you to face your fears. The burn is gone, Kambry, but the scar left behind reminds me of what it felt like. I may turn the stove on a few times before I go all in, but once I do I'll never look back. The love is there, baby. You make me want to give it another try. Just give me time to lay down my fears."
"When you put it that way I feel so stupid."
"Why? How could you have known? I'm glad you've never been hurt. I wouldn't wish that kind of pain and betrayal on my worst enemy."
"I'm so glad I met you. You're a great guy, Saxton."
"I guess you bring it out in me. I've been living under a dark cloud for a long time now."
She wraps her arms around my neck and smiles. "You know...you look hot too. This look is deadly."
I return her expression. "Where did that come from?"
"I've been holding it in since you walked through my door."
"Nice poker face. I never saw your hand."
"Yet I felt so exposed. I'm exhausted from trying to keep my composure. Want to know my kryptonite?"
"Hmm. My dimples?"
"No, those are panty droppers."
I laugh. "I'll have to remember that."
"Go on. Guess again."
"My eyes."
"Nope. Although they can make me tell you anything."
She pauses. I'm guessing she's making this a game. "Okay...abs?"
"Nope, just pretty to look at and fun to touch."
"Ass."
"I do love your ass, b
ut no."
"I give up. I have muscle, but no bulk, so I'm going to skip over major areas like arms, chest, and back. I'm defined, but lean. I have no desire to portray the hulk. I respect those that do, but if I want a damn milkshake I'm going to drink it without having to schedule an extra session in the gym. Spill, beautiful. I'm actually curious."
She grabs my towel and tugs, pulling it loose until it falls to the floor. I swallow, my hands instantly finding her thighs and moving north, pushing her skirt up as they do.
She grabs my hips, her thumbs pulling toward each other at my navel, before descending south. "This. I never thought hair could be a turn on, but every time I see this trail of dark blonde hair that fades into nothingness the lower it goes, I imagine rubbing my fingers through it as I ride. Then, when I remember the way this V muscle flexes each time you thrust inside me, my panties become wet. I get uncomfortable, and no matter what we're doing all I can think about is having this..."
She grabs my dick and my head falls back a couple of inches. I pull her toward me to the edge of the dresser, slipping my middle finger beneath her panties. When it passes the barrier that her lips create, wetness saturates my fingertip. I growl out as I push it inside. She pulls her feet up on the dresser, widening her spread. When I start pumping my finger in and out she begins to stroke my dick, rubbing her thumb in a circle over the tip each time her hand passes over the head. "You want it?"
She nods, biting her bottom lip as I slowly finger her. I reach further up her thigh and grab the string on her hip with my free hand, pulling it down as she pushes herself up with her feet.
The door flies open and I jerk my head around to Meredith coming in the room. "Hell no. Put that shit up you two."
"What the fuck do you want, Meredith?" I push closer to Kambry to cover us.
"Y'all called me to go to a paint party, so that's where we're going."
"What y'all? I didn't call you."
"Maybe not, but your other half did, so here I am, ready to party."
I look at Kambry. She's pursing her lips as she shrugs her shoulders, then mouths, sorry. She squeezes my dick. "Give us ten minutes," I say, not looking back.
"Nope. You took me away from sex, so here I am. Karma is a bitch, handsome. Love youuuuu."
"Use another room."
"Fuck that. I'm not getting paid. I don't give my shit away for free."
I close my eyes, irritated. "Please, Meredith. Go away for like two seconds."
"Or what? You're going to fuck in front of me?" She falls onto her stomach on the bed. "Go ahead. It might be hot."
"Fuck. Seriously?"
"Oh...porn star got stage freight? Can't be good for business."
"Meredith."
"Saxton...you're the one standing there with a full moon. Don't Meredith me. You'll thank me later...when you're painting a wall with her tits as you drive your cock forward for a home run. That's the kind of shit we want to pay money to watch. I can do this crap at home."
I pull my finger out of Kambry and lace my fingers behind my head. She's hiding a laugh behind her hand. "You think this is funny?"
She lowers her hand. "I'm sorry, but kind of. I mean...who else does this but her. You're getting angry and that's like feeding a tame lion raw meat from your hand. Tame or not she's still a hungry lion. She may take off your arm too. She has no shame."
I look over, grabbing my junk to cover myself…as much as I can. Meredith is flipping me off with both hands, a victory smirk on her face. She rolls over onto her back as I squat down, and grab my towel. Fucking stage freight. She has no idea who she's playing with.
I stand and kiss Kambry on the lips, before moving just outside of her ear. "This means nothing. I'm hard for you. Trust me."
I drop my hand and walk toward the door, passing the foot of the bed, before suddenly veering toward the side and placing each fist to the side of Meredith's body, leaning toward her face. She lifts her head and yells. "Saxton, put that shit away. There is a huge difference in film and right in front of my face. Fuck, that's a snake."
I place my knee on the bed and bring myself closer, until my dick brushes against her leg. She slaps my arm. “Get it off me! Nowhere did I order tube steak today. I was joking...kind of.” She squeals. “Kambry, call off your man meat!”
"I am staying out of it. You started it," she says with laughter in her voice.
"Next time you may want to make sure your accusations are accurate before throwing them out. You want to watch us fuck then go right ahead. I won't stop you, but we were in a moment. I was about to make love to her. That's private. There is a difference."
Without another word I stand and wink at Kambry, just as she blows me a kiss, before removing myself from this estrogen overrun room. Thanks to Meredith, I'm thinking about Kambry's tits glowing with neon paint, bent over and painting things as I fuck her from behind. Good luck to me getting rid of this hard-on anytime soon...
I walk through the entrance and head straight for the counter, handing Lindsey my license, turned sideways to create a diversion from the obvious fact that I'm not twenty-one. Saxton walks up beside me and leans his forearms on the bar, bending forward. He tosses his ID down in front of her, his wallet in his cupped hand. Hip-hop music is playing loud enough that it sounds all over the building, even in here, where there are no speakers.
She glances down at my license and places it face down on the counter, sliding it back to me. Lindsey is only a year older than me. I haven't really gotten a chance to talk to her much, but she seems nice. She kind of hangs around Drake a lot. I haven't figured out if she's just uncomfortable completely on her own serving since she's one of the new hires or if he prefers to have her close.
She grabs a wristband and holds it out, underside up. "Left wrist." Holding out my arm, she places the band on my wrist and secures it. "Not supposed to be any posers tonight," she says in a low tone. "But don't get stung. I don't need any bees my way either. Kay?"
I nod, knowing exactly what she's referring to. On occasion, mostly nights that allow eighteen and up entry, the police department sends on-duty officers undercover and dressed like customers for sting operations, to catch underage drinking or people of age contributing to minors. Most of the time at least Drake knows, and we usually figure out nights they are circulating the club pretty quickly, but occasionally one slips by unnoticed. Underage customers will always stick out like sore thumbs, because they get a stamp on the back of their hands that shows up under the club's black lights.
"They're with me," I shout over the music, pointing at the three of them.
"Drake said even employees pay cover since the club isn't the one putting on the event, but drinks are half price. Just tell Liam or Candice to start you a tab. Those two can just purchase under you or Saxton and at closeout they can split the tab. Liam won't say shit. They're in charge of employee tabs tonight for the few off if they show. It's supposed to be a full house, so he had to assign two to keep the rest free. It'll be eighty even."
"I got it," Saxton says, throwing down a hundred-dollar bill as I open my purse to get my bankcard. I look at him, but instead of saying something he just winks and waits for his change. She hands it to him as he holds out his other arm for the band, sliding the twenty into my pocket while she puts on his band.
"What are you doing? I don't want that."
"Take it in case you need a drink and I'm not with you."
"Saxton, I can pay for my own drinks when I close my tab. I have my card."
"Don't argue. Just take it. That's what boyfriends do. Ask Bryant if you don't believe me."
I narrow my eyes at him as he grabs his license and scoots me to the side. "It's true. A man takes care of his girl. Always. If he doesn't, you shouldn't be with him." I feel a pair of hands grip my shoulders: manly hands. "Aren't you supposed to know this? I thought the south was known for their hospitality. I figured men down there were automatically held to a higher standard than the rest of us."
I
laugh, pulling away from Bryant as Meredith walks up beside me. "Maybe some, but there are always duds, no matter where you are. Even so, I don't expect to never have to pay for anything. It's not a big deal to split."
Saxton grabs my hand, pulling me toward the doorway that leads into the main area. "Not as long as you're with me you're not. Have I let you pay for anything we've done together since we met?"
"I'm going to lose this one, aren't I?"
"Yep. My parents raised me better than that. We will stay home before you pay for anything. Regardless, I like doing it, so just enjoy it and move on."
We walk in, the room already packed with people, some dressed normal and some dressed in casual clothes like shorts and tee shirts. White and neon fabric are the dominant colors. The floors are made of stained concrete, the walls a wavy metal. There are two large bars, one in each corner of the back, to my left and right. Dim spotlights are turned on over the stage that runs from wall to wall at the front. Everything else is dark, only lit up by black lights.
I glance around, taking in the camera crews labeled with production shirts that promote the event. It's a little different here than the main club. It's more relaxed, and resembling more like a concert than a nightclub. Some are dancing to the DJ playing a playlist on stage and some standing around in cliques, waiting on it to start. I've only been here once: Fourth of July. I also had to work, so it was definitely different than being involved in the fun.
"Blue or yellow?" His voice catches me off guard, pulling my attention to the voice in my ear. His hand is at the small of my back.
"What?"
"Drink. The ones at the bar glowing. The bartender is handing them to that guy. Which do you want? The highlighter yellow or the aquamarine blue one. We have about thirty minutes before the paint starts."
Glow in the dark drink? What...
I follow the direction of his pointer finger to the bar. I feel like I'm seeing things. They really are glowing. "How? Is that healthy?"
"Yeah. It's just certain ingredients under the black light. Pretty cool, huh?"
Sex Sessions: Uncut (Camera Tales #1) Page 36