Shred of Decency (Shattered Hearts of Carolina Book 2)

by Jody Kaye

  Aidy’s chest is to the sheets. Her hair spills over her face and she’s writhing, saying the fucking dirtiest things I’ve ever heard spill from her sweet lips.

  “You like this, Sweet Pea.” It’s obvious, but I want her to voice it so she’ll keep telling me what she wants. I’ll give Aidy as much of the world as I can afford.

  “God, yes.” Her hands strain against the bed and she pushes her hips up.

  “You want more?”

  The garbled sound she makes chasing her release puts a smile on my face. I add a third finger to the two inside of her. Realizing she likes the stretch, I use all three fingers to slick my thumb and trail it up, pressing into that rosebud.

  “You can do this.” I tack my nickname for her onto the end of the sentence when Aidy whimpers. It gets a little nod from her and I know she’s okay. We’re still in the moment together.

  I’m not sure what has possessed me. This is dirtier than when I sucked Morgan’s dick or having his mouth all over my pussy last night. I’m letting him put his hands up my skirt anyplace he wants. I’m not ready to admit I like everything he’s doing, but my body is betraying me in the most magnificent way.

  I swear the rush of wetness from the first orgasm has me damp to my knees. I’m still letting him finger fuck me, drawing the next one out. Thank god he made me take off my heels. I wasn’t prepared for this at all. It’s not at all what I expected and nothing short of amazing.

  We have to be out of here soon. I thought maybe Morgan would laugh and swat my ass for forgetting my underwear. It was an honest mistake. I was distracted watching Morgan getting ready and left my underwear in the bag. Although, it’s not as if there’s much to those panties. That I did plan, hoping maybe after admiring me dressed up, Morgan might like to undress me. I was trying to be pretty underneath my clothes for him for later. What he’s doing to me now wasn’t part of the fantasy.

  I can’t believe I want more. I can’t believe I’m begging for it while using dirty words to entice Morgan to keep going. Trying to keep quiet has become a losing battle. Hopefully, noises don’t drift down the stairs. It’s more than our voices. The bed is squeaking, and the wet sounds prove I’m putty in Morgan’s hands.

  Months ago, I wouldn’t have allowed anyone to touch me like this. Now, I don’t want him to ever stop. Each sensation overrides the other. Tight and loose. Wet. Hard. Pain and pleasure mix. My pussy clenches.

  “That’s right, Aidy. Take what you want,” Morgan encourages.

  I bury my face into the sheets, screaming as I come. His fingers move until he’s drawn every bit of the orgasm out. He leaves two behind when he lowers his front to my back.

  “Where are those panties?” The coy smile in his voice is louder than the noises we made.

  “In—In the bag.” I’m breathless and having second thoughts about going to the party. I’d rather stay in bed. I want Morgan to fuck me. Probably because I know he’ll put a stop to it.

  “Are you planning to put them on or tease me like this all afternoon?”

  My eyes widen at the idea. It has merit, but “What if a breeze blows my skirt up?”

  Morgan kisses my neck, humming in agreement. “You’re right. Better safe than sorry. I’m not sharing this with anyone.”

  I shiver floats down my back as Morgan’s weight shifts. He gets off the bed and goes to rummage through my things on the floor. Ducking his head in the knapsack, he holds up the scrap the lingerie shop assured me is underwear, swinging the elastic around his finger. “All I found was this.”

  “That’s them!”

  The G-String shoots across the room. Somehow I catch it and slide it up my bare legs.

  “Damn, Sweet Pea. You’re killing me.” Morgan watches it disappear underneath my skirt. “This is going to be a long evening.” He strides across the room, knotting my hair behind my neck and pulling my lips to his for a punishing kiss. His erection strains against the fly of his pants. I realize what I’ve done. I deserve the way he’s treating me. And that not only do I like it, it’s also got my imagination playing out scenarios of what Morgan and I might do once the party is over.

  “I’m not. You do it. I don’t have a fucking clue what they’re doing in there.” I hear Trig whisper yelling from the staircase.

  “Just knock,” Kimber replies.

  “No. No way in hell. If they’re doing what I think they’re doing, I wouldn’t want someone interrupting.”

  “You said you didn’t have a fucking clue what they were up to.”

  My cheeks flame at Kimber’s response. Morgan tips his forehead to mine. The more embarrassed I get, the more his chest vibrates.

  We listen to Kimber and Trig bicker on the stairs. I guess voices do carry. We must have been loud. Er, at least, I must have been. Trig insists on taking one for the team and goes to buckle Owen into his car seat to get out of disturbing us.

  There’s a faint rapping at Morgan’s bedroom door. “Hey, guys? We’re leaving in a few. You almost ready?”

  Morgan purses his lips and I have to answer. Men.

  I clench Morgan’s hand, stepping into the imposing historic building for the first time. A hall extends in both directions with heavy closed doors at either end. Morgan tells me they lead to the business offices and where he and Trig work on days they aren’t off site for an install. The rich wood tones and exposed antique red masonry in the lobby are like nothing I’d assumed. It’s hospitable yet industrial with clean architectural lines no matter which way I look. Try to take it all in, but there’s not enough time to gawk. Trig and Kimber have already begun disappearing up a massive wooden staircase to the second story. As we take the first creaky stair, I note another flight down leading to a basement.

  At the top, the tight, richly historic space opens up with blinding white walls and my eyes have to readjust. All the way to the left there’s a threshold leading to a darkened hallway and two additional doors on the right. The first swings open and I’m hit with heavenly smells as Holly, a bartender at Sweet Caroline’s, brings out a tray of food and places it on a table decorated with festive garland and green wreaths. When a second woman follows her out with the same, I surmise it must be the kitchen.

  The main space has ceilings two stories high and a wall of windows and more doors showing off a huge porch. Light streams in, something I find interesting since, from the outside, you can’t see anything going on in here. The glass reflects the outside to maintain privacy.

  In front of the porch are pool tables and someone is playing darts near a bar rivaling a restaurant’s. There are even hanging glasses of every shape and size to choose from. Underneath the swaths of garland, the details are exquisite. This room must be beautiful and inviting, even when it’s not decked out for the holidays.

  Kimber is making herself comfortable on a couch as if she belongs. And then—as Cece descends another staircase sharing the same wall as the dark hallway, a portion of which is hidden by the bar—I remember my bio mom used to live here.

  Morgan brushes his thumb over my lower lip. My jaw is agape.

  The door past the kitchen opens a crack and Sloan slides out. I can’t see into the room. She’s full of sass, mouthing off to someone. It has to be her mister because when she turns to us, closing the door, her wide smile broadens.

  “You made it!” Her arms reach for me and Sloan, who looks stunning in a tight red number, compliments me on my dress.

  The fabric is thin for this time of year, but I’m glad I feel like I can wear it again. Dresses were my thing. Since my first date with Morgan, I feel pretty. It has little to do with a man telling me I looked good. I’m getting dressed up more often now because I’ve regained my confidence and I want Morgan—and everyone else—to see me the way I view myself.

  Sloan glances at Morgan as we hug. Like the other men in the room, he’s edible in slacks and a button-down.

  “You picked a good one to get your sea legs back with,” she whispers so he can’t hear.

  The
wink that follows, directed at Morgan, has red rising from his collar.

  “You’re going to get my ass kicked, Sloan,” he remarks, uneasy.

  “Don’t be afraid of Carver.” She pats his chest. “His bark is far worse than his bite.”

  Sloan points my attention to a tall blonde man who has Kimber’s ear. He seems cordial enough. However, Sloan warns, “Do be wary of Jake. The club is open tonight. He’s trying to persuade Kimber to work when he gave her the night off months ago. She won’t say yes and risk missing Christmas morning with you and Owen, but nothing will stop Jake from putting the screws to her unless Trig cuts him off at the knees. I hate to get involved, but I should distract him, so he’ll move on for a bit.” Sloan shudders and I get the impression Jake’s not her favorite person to deal with. “Enjoy. Eat! We have tons of food. Mister Bossy will be out soon. He’s wrapping up some last-minute, uh, gifts.” She waves, crossing to the couches.

  Her friendly demeanor fades as she flat out instructs Jake he’s not harassing Kimber in her home. Kimber goofily pokes his shoulder and Jake’s expression darkens. The man is no wounded animal. I get the impression there are few who stand up to him, and though Sloan holds her ground, he’s allowing it because it is her ground she’s standing on.

  Morgan’s knuckles glide down my arm. “Want a drink?” I start replying with my normal, but Morgan cuts me off. “Bottled water. Cap on.”

  “How about whatever you’re having, cap on?” It’s likely a soda. I hadn’t once seen him imbibe until tossing a brown bottle in the recycle bin yesterday. I miss a good beer, but love how neither of us needs alcohol to have a good time. It takes so much of the pressure off.

  He kisses my temple. “Coming right up.”

  I find an empty place to sit and wait, nudged again as Hailey slides in next to me.

  “Are we okay?” She mumbles, babbling on, “I’ll leave you alone if we aren’t. I just don’t want to do the glance back-and-forth all night thing where I’m on pins and needles thinking you hate me. I mean, it’s fine. You can hate me. I just need to know if you do.”

  Hay’s appearance doesn’t match her self-doubt. She’s as put together as any of us. You couldn’t tell a stripper from a Pinewood College student tonight. Though, seeing how Celine is both, there have to be a few more mill girls who fall either side of the aisle.

  I don’t want to not be her friend. And no different from the underlying connection I have with Morgan, I believe the reason our friendship has worked was because I needed her as much as she needed me. We get that you don’t have to be privy to every detail about the other’s life to be there for the other person.

  “We’re good, Hay.” I rub her knee while focusing on Morgan, Jasper, and Skye at the bar.

  “Listen, ever since Morgan started sharing our dorm room I’ve been thinking we should all hang out for New Year’s. Come. Bring Owen. He’s a sweetheart.”

  “You’re his other sitter?” I turn to face her. Boy, am I slow to connect the dots.

  “You’re his big sister. Now that I can share, there’s a bunch of stuff he’s done that I’ve been wanting to let you know reminds me of you.” Hailey knocks my shoulder with hers.

  “Would you mind coming to the house instead?”

  “Oh God, no. I’ll take any opportunity to get out of this place.”

  “You really don’t like it here?”

  She eyes Jasper across the room. “Ah, it has its perks, like wake-up sex.”

  “Carver lets you sleep in the same room? My parents would never allow that.”

  “He expects Jasper to take care of me. I don’t know if fucking was included in the negotiations, but you won’t hear me complaining.” Hailey worries her lip. “I heard your mom and dad found out about Morgan. I wasn’t listening in. Everyone was out here talking yesterday while us girls were finishing trimming the tree. It’s sort of common knowledge. Did they disown you?”

  “Not quite, or not yet. I’m going back in the morning.” I sigh, sweeping away the arguments on replay in my head that I’ve pretended to have with my mom. I want to enjoy Christmas Eve.

  The tree is gorgeous, decked out in shiny metallic tinsel and huge round ornaments the size of the shimmering balls found on the one the city lights in downtown Raleigh. It’s the biggest one I’ve seen indoors, outside of the shopping mall’s.

  “Oooh Merry Christmas, huh?” Hayley’s nose scrunches, sensing my sadness.

  “I fully anticipate a squabble and to spend most of the day in my room. The best gift they could give me is hearing me out, even if we have to go to separate corners until dinnertime.”

  I catch the door Sloan came out of opening again. From the tips of his perfectly coiffed dark hair down to the toes of his designer wingtips, the man who emerges makes the rest of us look scrubby. He ignores our stares, seeking Trig like a missile.

  They exchange an envelope. Trig peers inside and hands it back, expressionless. He beckons Morgan over and his glance at me with a square-jawed tilt of his chin is a command to join them.

  “Ever get the feeling you’re in over your head?” I ask rhetorically.

  “Basically every waking minute. Though, I have a hard time with the notion anybody who lives outside these four walls feels any different.”

  I have to agree with Hailey. I didn’t feel as if I was drowning any less in August. Now, with this circle of people, there is a feeling like the Captain will go down with the ship and he expects nothing less of his crew. I’m proven right in the next few minutes.

  After the most intimidating introduction of my life, Carver gives Morgan the envelope.

  “What’s this?” The total on the check inside shocks my boyfriend. Me too.

  “Your Christmas bonus, what else?” Carver replies. I understand every one of Sloan’s nicknames for him in an instant. Yet, Carver is unaware that his mere presence is intimidating. He’s tucked his hands in his pockets and his casual stance proves he is unaffected by how much money he’s handed Morgan.

  “I don’t see anyone else getting a bonus.” Morgan looks around, bewildered.

  “I don’t see the government forcing me to garnish anyone else’s wages.”

  “I’m not sure if I can accept this, or what I’m supposed to do with it.

  “Get yourself some fucking furniture,” Trig suggests.

  “Hell, with this much I can move out.”

  “Nobody’s asking you to leave. Either way: get yourself some fucking furniture.” Trig repeats, mussing Morgan’s hair. My bio mom’s husband looks at me with nothing but affection. I’ve never thought of him as my dad, but maybe he’s thought of himself as Morgan’s, and maybe it’s not as weird as I once feared it was.

  This might not be the word I was born into, but the way these men look out for one another when no one else will is what my parents me taught was important. Love your family despite their flaws. Stand up for one another. Admit your mistakes and move on. All of those lessons are there in their own twisted way. How many people actually follow society’s rules of behavior, and how many of them pretend to while praying they won’t get caught?

  Morgan is still slack-jawed by their generosity when Skye walks by, plucking the check from his grasp. “Hey!”

  “You have no investment strategy,” Skye calls over his shoulder. “You’ve got to learn to make this wad-o-cash work for you.”

  “And you’ve got no hoops game.” Morgan hollers back.

  “Give him back enough for a dresser, not a cheap one either. Morgan’s done storing his shit in a cardboard box.” Trig instructs Skye before he bounds too far off.

  “Got it.” Skye finishes his convo with Trig, volleying back to Morgan, “I’ve got it on the court too.” He sticks up two shooter fingers. “Meet you outside once I find a nice shell game for your treasure chest.”

  “Thank you.” A dumbfounded Morgan shakes Carver’s hand, and the two older men go find their better halves.

  I give Morgan a congratulatory kiss.


  “Sweet Pea,” He pauses, wanting to maintain a sense of truthfulness between us. “You know what this means, right? What the check signifies?”

  “I have no clue?” I return a quizzical look, feigning innocence, but a giggle breaks forth when Morgan’s stance slumps, crestfallen.

  Tipping his chin up, I run my palms over the broadcloth covering his biceps, and let my fingers dance through his dark hair. “I do know you’d never do anything intentional to hurt me and that you’ll be honest whenever you can.”

  Morgan wraps his arms around my waist. “How can you be so certain?”

  I shrug my chin toward my shoulder to where Kimber, Sloan, Hailey, and Cece stand behind me gossiping about how cute we are. “They are. And we’re all in this together.”

  Morgan chuckles and kisses me so that the other ladies whoop and clap.

  It’s Christmas morning and Aidy’s sitting between my legs on the floor with her back to my chest. All four of us are bleary-eyed from staying late at the party. Owen’s wide awake, beating on a big empty box like a drum. He’s discarded the actual drum that was inside in a pile along with a few other opened presents. He bounces, dancing as his chubby fingers slap the cardboard, as amused with himself as we are with him.

  The adults have opened their gifts for one another. Aidy got me reams of high quality solid and patterned origami paper and some advanced folding technique books. She added a gift card for the craft store so I could get more paper when I ran out—something which happens frequently—apologizing that what she’d gotten me wasn’t anything crazy expensive. Thanking her, I kissed those fears away. The value wasn’t in the price tag. It was her knowing the exact thing I needed.

  My gift to her was along the same lines. As much as I hadn’t wanted to rely on anything monetary, Kimber had clued me in that the purple color I love so much that Aidy dyes on her own. I filled a box with a flock of paper cranes and other sea animals made from various denominations so she can go to a salon and get a little pampered.

  Aidy also has my cell, and we’re searching the local furniture galleries’ selection of bedroom sets. It’s becoming apparent while she scrolls that we have the same style and we’ve found a few to bookmark and check the availability on.