I glance back at Saxton. "What do you mean? For what?"
"I've never done things like that for you."
"What sort of things, Sax?"
"The romantic things. I've never really taken you on a proper date. I've never bought you flowers or surprised you at work. I've never done most of the things that normal couples do."
"Stop it. I don't wish for any of that. I'm happy just being with you."
"No, Kambry let me finish." He places his arm behind me on the back of the bench and turns toward me so that we can face each other. "There are things I've been thinking about that I need to get out in the open."
"Okay," I say nervously.
"It occurred to me that for the most part I've never done things with you that I couldn't do with, say, a female roommate— aside from the sex— but even that can be plausible in a friends with benefits situation. I was raised with a sister. I was very observant most of the time. I guess that’s just what kind of guy I am. I noticed the little things that girls go through when it comes to dating. I was there— most likely making fun of— when it took my sister two hours and thirty outfits to deem herself fit for her date. I remember us watching a movie once and catching her grinning from ear to ear as she read a text. She slightly squealed, and then looking around to make sure I didn't notice even though I was watching her from the corner of my eye. She got roses on Valentine's Day and a kiss in front of the door of a new relationship when she was being dropped off at curfew. She got the little things—the expected things. I’m really sorry I haven’t been that man for you."
His voice is something I can't describe. I can feel the emotion spilling through his lips. It's thick, and somewhat dripping with sadness. It's sincere. "Sax."
"I know this relationship has been anything short of normal, and considering the circumstances we've bypassed some of that list and can't go back, but I still want you to have most of those things, Kambry. I want you to get nervous before a date. I want you to light up when I send you flowers just to brighten your day. I want you to have stories to tell your friends. I'm only saying that it may take me some time, and it's most definitely going to be backwards, but I'm going to give those things to you. I promise you I'll try every damn day to be the husband you dreamed about when you were a little girl."
Without willing it to, a tear falls from each eye as I blink, followed by others close behind. "I like to eat my dessert first." I wipe my eyes cautiously, trying not to smear my makeup. "Butthole. Why you gotta go and make me cry, you perfect man?"
He kisses my lips. "I just thought you should know."
I lay my head against his shoulder, and like a reflex his arm wraps around me. "Well maybe you should know that I get nervous every time I know I'm going to see you, so you can cross that off the list. I bet I have you beat there."
"Baby, if a nervous stomach were as telling as a heartbeat, then you would have seen long ago that I was yours."
"Oh yeah? Name the first time I made you nervous."
"The night I showed back up at the club and waited for you in the cab."
"What? No way. You were a little bit cocky that night, fiancé; kissing me like you knew I wanted you to. I didn't detect any nervousness whatsoever."
"Let me tell you a little something about men, baby. We live behind a testosterone-driven mask, acting on whims and dares, hoping that it'll end in our favor. That's it. We aren't naturally as bold and abrasive as we seem. We are frauds to be quite honest. I would even go as far as to say that a woman's biggest fear is never finding love, while a man's is finding it, revealing his true feelings, and then losing it and becoming less of a man. I kissed you in hopes that I'd blind you so that you wouldn't see through my macho facade and know just how affected by you I really was. And maybe a little bit to prove to myself that it was just physical attraction and nothing more."
I nestle in closer to him. "Hmm. Well I guess it was a successful plan. What was your final verdict?"
"You're wearing my ring and shopping for wedding dresses, aren't you?"
A surge of excitement blasts through every facet of my body, similar to that of a rocket in take off. I straighten, but his arm doesn't leave me. They only loosen. "It's crazy, though, isn't it?"
"Definitely unexpected, Miss Rivers, but in my experience unexpected is the most rewarding." I lace my hand with the one wrapped around me. "So tell me. Are you ready to be Kambry Cambridge?"
Silence. I let that sink in for a moment. "Oh my god, Sax!” I whine. “That's humorous. I think I've been so hung up on you going by Maverick that I haven't even put those two together. I'm going to be that person."
He laughs. "Like the Kelly Kellys and the John Johnsons of the world that give doctors' offices a laugh."
"Yes! It's so not funny."
"It could be worse."
"How could it be any worse than that? Nature hates me. That's so mean."
"I could have the last name Dick. How would you like to go around calling out that last name for the rest of your life? Picture it— Kambry Dick, the doctor will see you now. Think that'd be easy without a few red cheeks and chuckles? Or what about passing it to the kiddos and them being in grade school when that word is a sin."
"Okay I take it back. I can live with that." I stand and hold out my hand for his. "I say let's do this. I have a bankcard that's itching to be used and a bare finger that needs to be covered. Ring shopping with me?"
He takes my hand and stands. "I see you haven't backed out yet . . ."
"Nope. I don't intend to, Maverick. It'll take more than a funny name to send me packing. You've already given me the goods and I liked it. Forever it is."
I can see it coming— the joke in his expression— making it harder to keep a straight face. "Oh, so it's about my penis, is it?"
I stare at him blankly. "Yeah . . . That's not working for me. You're not allowed to say the word penis anymore, especially following the word dick. I've decided. It's a little too doctoral for me and I'm not your patient. Sexy porn stars should not be allowed to house such an awkward word in their vocabulary. It's a banned word . . . kind of like adorable and cute in reference to you."
He pulls me into a hug. "Then which one would you prefer I use?"
I shake my head with a smile present.
"Say it," he says. "You know what it does to me. No one has to hear your secretly filthy mouth but me."
He looks into my eyes and grips my face in each hand. "Cock," I whisper with a lingering syllable. "I'm marrying you for your cock."
His hands rake through my hair until it’s tangled within his fists. "If only you knew what I wanted to do to you right now."
"Make that text message fantasy from the nail shop come true?"
His head falls back. "Rewards. It's all about rewards." He looks back at me. "We get this ring and marriage license taken care of and then I'm feasting on your body somewhere. Go inside and be looking around. I'll be right behind you. I just need a few minutes to take care of something you can't help with."
I bite my lip and look down at the wrapped present waiting and wanting to be touched. I've always loved that his arousal sticks out like a like a snowman in a place with no snow. There is no hiding it for him. He's too big and his frame is lean; his clothing always fitted. Discrete boldness is what I strive for. I close in. "You might want to cut that timeframe in half and get it done, because I kind of feel like watching you fish. It's an ocean down there."
I turn and walk away, quickly opening the glass door and walking inside. "Fuck," he whisper-yells, just as the door closes. I'm fighting really hard not to fist pump the air right now, because my forever freaking rocks.
Chapter Thirteen
Saxton
My alarm starts to sound on my phone, causing me to wake in a hurry so I can grab it and shut it off before she hears it. I get out of bed and stumble quietly to the bathroom to take a piss. My groggy state makes aim a little messy, but my eyes finally gain focus as I flush the toilet.
&n
bsp; I stop at the doorframe when she rolls over in her sleep, my hands immediately clamping onto the top above my head. Her face now in my direction catches my attention. A few strands of her blonde hair are draped across her cheek. She's beautiful, especially when she sleeps. I can tell she dreams a lot by watching her sleep. Her face contorts into whatever emotion I'm guessing is present in her dream. She's even muttered things here and there, but I don't dare mention it. That's one of my secret happy places and I don't want it to end or result in paranoia. It's peaceful watching her when I'm not ready to sleep before her, so on many nights I just pretend to be asleep until her breathing evens and I know she beat me to it.
Sometimes it takes her a while and she rambles about random things, and I listen, but then other times the second her head hits my chest she's out. It's hard not to wake her when it looks like a bad dream is occurring, but I can't take my eyes off of her when a smile is present, because in those moments I wish so bad dream walkers were real.
We were able to find a ring in my size in the store that I actually liked. I was willing to take whatever they had, including the traditional gold band. Ordering wasn't an option on a short time frame. It may not have been a first choice pick, but it's a band nonetheless, and that's all that matters. I don't need a fashion statement. I need a symbol.
After we left the jewelry store we went and applied for a marriage license through the state of New York, signing our lives of solitude away on a fancy piece of paper: a step I never got to before. I signed away my bachelorhood in a few short minutes. My right to entertain the thoughts of another woman is forever gone. For some that may be a scary revelation, but for me it's a fucking amazing feeling.
I never have to touch another woman and deal with the stress of disease or fucked up accidental pregnancy due to contraceptive failure ever again. Meaningless paid sex is over. I can finally stop contracting out my dick for a living. I don't care who you are or how brainwashed you've become; pussy rental is not all it's hyped up to be. Nothing behind the scenes is ever how is appears in that short clip for the viewer. My dick was no longer participating without force. Neither of us was happy. He only works for her— volunteered overtime at that. It's sad when your damn dick starts taking a stand for what you want before the rest of you.
In a few short days I'm giving her my last name. Until then, I'm going to do everything I can to court her and to make up for the lost dating time while we were under the nose of a camera constantly. That month was the best month of my life, but I want to give her memories to look back on. I want her to have a story that she’s proud of. Sex will fade at some point in our lives. It will become less in frequency. It will also become routine when life gets in the way, because at some point it won’t be just the two of us. But in the meantime, I’m going to show her how much she means to me, because every smart man knows that women talk, placing aspects of their relationship out in the open for spectators they call friends. They tell stories, they compare, and it becomes this weird competition that us men will most likely never understand, but I don't want her to sit there embarrassed if those times arise because we never had epic adventures or romantic journeys.
So, with that thought, I have a few short days to come up with mind-blowing things for us to do together and in the midst of all that give her the best fucking birthday she's ever had. My work is cut out for me, but what can I say? I love a challenge.
The apartment door opens and closes. I quietly walk out of the bedroom as Tynleigh is setting her purse on the counter. "What's up, sprout? Napping?"
"Yeah. How was work?"
"Eventful, but I wouldn't expect anything less. It's damn crazy drama most days but I love my job. I was inspired for a new column idea I'm considering bringing up to my boss. We'll see how things pan out. Where's Kambry?"
"Still sleeping. Did you get them?"
"Depends. How much are they worth to you?"
"I already promised you Coney Island tomorrow. What more do you want, woman?"
"Are you sure you want to walk into this conversation? I can be a hell of a negotiator, because the list of requests can get lengthy."
"Hit me with it. I need them and I don't have much of a choice. Since my alone time is limited, I need you to help me make the rest of this trip unforgettable. You're the local, not me." She gets a gleam in her eye. "Don't get extreme. I know how your crazy ass is."
"Well, you need me, and regardless of what you think I need you in this too. This can easily become a give and take thing. For starters, I need you to call Mom and invite her to the wedding."
"For what, T? It's not a legit wedding. The idea is to just get married. The dress is only to give her that tradition."
"Yes, you're having a small wedding. It's nothing fancy and would never be headline worthy, but it's something more special than standing in a courtroom before a judge. She isn't knocked up and this isn't Vegas. There is no reason for you to be against a tiny ceremony. I'm busting my ass to put something together on short notice because I know you'll both thank me in the end, but I swear on my life I'll drop everything and tell you to do it yourself if you don't at least call Mom and Dad and invite them. I would do it myself but it would mean more coming from you. They've done a lot for us over the years, as annoying as they can be at times. It comes with the job. They're our parents. You know I hate to be the levelheaded advocate type and all because that's no fun, but someone has to be in this. They've stood behind us both even when they don't agree with what we're doing. They may not advertise to their friends what you do, but they've never shunned you either. They deserve to be present at the life-changing events in our lives if they want to be, and you know Mom is dying for one of us to settle down. Throw her a fucking bone, Saxton. You already make me look like the golden child with your interesting career choice, but I'll never hear the end of this if you don't."
"There's no chance of you letting this go is there?"
"Nope."
"Fine. What else?"
"You have to stay with Bryant or at a hotel the night before the wedding."
My mouth falls. "What the fuck, T? You're kicking me out? That's bullshit. We film porn and we live together. We've had sex more times than I can count in more ways and places than you want to know. What the fuck is that going to accomplish? No preacher is going to agree to marry us. Technically we're porn stars. That doesn't coincide with the teachings in the Bible and it's not something we can just walk away from right now. You're going to have to just get someone certified by the state to do it."
"Hostile much? Damn, it's like twenty-four hours if that. You're like a junkie. You'll be fine. It'll have a better effect when you see her walking down the aisle. You're going to part ways by mid afternoon, and Bryant is taking you out for a bachelor thing and Meg and I are taking Kambry."
"Hell no. No, T. I don't give a damn about a bachelor party. She can go where she wants but I'm coming. I'm not turning her loose in New York for her to end up on the news in a missing persons report. Hell to the mother fucking no."
She grins. "I don't remember that being a question. You know what happens when you argue with me."
"I don't care. There's a first time for everything. I'm not backing down on this."
She slides something off the bar and starts fanning herself with the two rectangular tickets. "I can also spend the rest of the time you're here at work."
"That's fucked up."
"It's fucked up for you to insult me. I've been living here since graduation and nothing has ever happened to me. I would never let something happen to her. I know how you feel about her. I can see it. If you don't trust anyone else you should trust me. And also, I’ve got three years on you, sprout, so take that shit to someone else."
"You can be such a fucking bitch sometimes."
"Awe, thank you. That's so sweet."
I slam my elbows on the bar and lean my forehead against my palms. "How late?" My voice comes out reflecting the defeated state I'm in. "I don't really want my
fiancé making permanent vows still drunk or hung over."
"Two at the latest. I'll cut her off earlier if she's getting too drunk."
I stand and look at her. "No drugs; not even a fucking Xanax. You promise you'll guard her with your life? I'm not fucking kidding, Tynleigh. Don't rip my heart out."
"Always. She's family. If it makes you feel better I'll go somewhere I know most of the bouncers in the safest areas of New York: we kind of have to. Her age is an inconvenience when seeking alcohol. You just missed robbing the cradle on this one," she teases.
I snatch the tickets out of her hand. "So help me, if you don't have her in this apartment by 2:30 on the dot only God can help you. And she better be able to at least slur an, I'm okay and I love you or goodnight. If not I'm knocking down the fucking door."
"I knew you'd see it my way," she continues, adding fuel to the fire she started.
I grab the phone from where I sat it on the bar and walk toward her bedroom. "Where are you going?"
"To call Mom before I decide this is all a horrible idea and take her to fucking Vegas."
"Tell her I said Hi. Love you," she says in a loud whisper as I pretend to slam the door but catch it before it can actually make noise. Fucking sisters: the one form of female you can legit hate and love at the exact same time.
Kambry
"Mmm. That feels nice."
Soft lips touch just beneath the juncture of my ear and jaw, before lightly descending down the length of my neck. His stubble is grazing my skin. My breathing picks up in sound and pace when his hand begins rubbing up the outside of my thigh. The bottom of my foot travels along the sheets of the bed toward my butt, forcing my leg into a full bend. My legs spread the second his tee shirt touches my thighs at the bottom of my shorts, allowing him between them.
A void occurs, and I can feel the air hit against my face and chest, giving me a chill. "Come back."
My butt is lifted off the bed just enough for my shorts and underwear to come down. I arch when his fingers touch me there. A moan escapes when he slowly enters me with two fingers. "You going to sleep while we do this?"
Sex Sessions: After The Cut (Camera Tales #2) Page 16