by Kenya Wright
“It’s taking everything inside of me to not come over there right now.”
I knew I shouldn’t have pushed it, but I said, “Maybe Nick is done blackmailing us. He probably doesn’t even care anymore.”
“I doubt that. If there is one thing Dad is good at, it’s keeping everyone else miserable. Besides, is that a chance you’re willing to take? You’re almost done with your novel. Soon you’ll be out in the world again, promoting to all of your readers who have supported you. Can we really take that risk? If you lost it all because I drove over late at night to fuck you and he found out, I would never forgive myself. Some things in this life are bigger than my cock. Not many things, but there are a few.”
“Very funny.”
“Carmen,” Adrian whispered. “Promise me something.”
“What?”
“Don’t tempt me anymore.”
I opened my mouth in shock. “Okay.”
“I’m trying.”
“I know you are.”
That night when we ended the conversation, my heart ached. It was this dark and twisting thing. It wasn’t love or desire, not need for him or fear of us. The thing that moved inside of me was guilt. All this time Adrian battled his dad, sought therapy, and did his best to give me space. What had I done for him in these beautiful months where our minds mingled together just like two bodies slipping against each other in bed?
Decisions. Decisions.
All night, I lay in bed, unable to fall asleep, dealing with the big problem at hand. Did I really think Adrian and I should be together? He put his energy into us every night. I did too, but was it enough? And I couldn’t forget the underlying fact that my body ached to touch his.
That night, I found no slumber or relief from my anxiety.
A solution lay in front of me. It was clear what I could do, but I damn sure didn’t want to. Fear grappled with my feelings for him. I could no longer deny that I loved Adrian. To say any different would be to lie to myself.
I loved him.
And the only thing that stopped our union was Adrian’s father—an aging billionaire who couldn’t even deal with his son falling in love.
When daylight hit, I called my mom.
“Are you still talking to the Ford boy?” she asked.
I grimaced. “He’s not a boy, Mom.”
“Relax. At my age, they’re all boys to me.”
“I need some advice.”
She chuckled. “So you’re desperate?”
“Maybe. I’ll just let you decide.” I told her what I’d been thinking about, a decision that could change everything for Adrian, her, and me. When I finished, she remained silent. “What do you think, Mom?”
“I think it’s time for you to control your own destiny.”
“Is that a yes to my idea or not?”
“I’m putting the ball in your court, Carmen. This is your life. Your destiny. Your heart. Gain control and you can guide your path all by yourself. I think you’ve spent a lot of years being reactive, instead of proactive. You allowed men to lead you into situations without stopping to think. Take control. That’s what I think.”
“Take control?”
“Yes. If you want Adrian then take him, but not on his or Nick’s terms. This is your destiny. Only you should be controlling it.”
Anxiety sat deep in my gut. “You’re right.”
Okay. I’m going to take control.
Chapter 12
Signature
Two months later
Adrian
Carmen stood at the podium, holding her book, Of Winds and Leaves, the fantasy novel that I’d inspired with my cock. She hated when I said that. And I loved that it made her mad.
It’s been too long. More than six months of separation and still she has no idea that I’m here. I can’t even touch her.
She flipped the page and read: “Slowly with each heartwarming event, a plan unwound in Rak's head like a very long ribbon created with beautiful threads.”
Carmen’s fans sat on the edge of their seats, elbows in their laps and gazes targeting her.
“Rak yearned for something more than a daughter,” Carmen said. “One as captivating as they were, but a female being he didn't raise. A creature he could touch without burning, just like with his daughters, but do so much more. Someone to love in the same way the human men savored their women.”
I kept my hat lowered onto my head and the big jacket zipped up.
When I’d first walked into the bookstore with the whole get-up on, the store’s owner joked, “Are you on a secret spy mission?”
Annoyance had laced my word. “What?”
“Maybe if you take off the sunglasses inside, you’ll look less like you’re hiding the fact that you’re here.” She’d gestured to them.
“Maybe, you’re right.” I’d taken them off and placed them into my jacket. “I’m not really trained to do missions in a book store. That’s next week’s lesson at the military base.”
She’d saluted. “Gotcha.”
The bookstore was huge—tall bookshelves, polished wood, and gold letters that labeled each genre’s section. An old woman made coffee. Two others handed out tiny cakes. On the left, cashiers stood at their counters with a stack of Carmen’s older releases.
I stayed at the back of the audience, making sure to keep my head as low as possible.
Carmen had begged me to come. Yet, Dad still hadn’t let up. He’d gone through three women since breaking up with Carmen. Three fiancées who each drained him a little more. He’d sunken into a pit of unhappiness and focused all of his attention on Carmen and me again, shocked that I’d still be in love with her after all this time.
Dad had asked one day when visiting my condo. “What do you see in Carmen that I don’t?”
“I see everything.”
He frowned. “You still don’t talk to her?”
“Of course not. I don’t want you to hurt her.”
“And I will, son. I will.”
“Goodnight, Dad.” I’d gotten up from my couch and led him to the door.
“Don’t you contact her.”
“I won’t.” I opened the door.
“I’ll ruin her.”
“I know you will. You’re pretty good at destroying women.”
Our gazes met. These months of separation had aged him. More wrinkles than ever decorated his weary face. His hands shook as he buttoned up his coat. The few times he’d come over to visit, he’d needed help getting up and sitting down.
The fast life had weakened him. He was only fifty. If he’d still been with Mom, I could’ve imagined him fit and young looking. She was a vegan who loved tennis and hiking.
She was love, and he’d ruined it until nothing else existed but darkness.
I wouldn’t be my father.
“Take care of yourself, Dad. I love you.” I’d closed the door behind him and hoped that better days would come.
Carmen continued to read from her book. “Rak knew what he needed to make this all happen. He needed the god's seed, the enchanted forest's willingness to help, and a warlock to take care of and raise his future partner. He needed to do the impossible.”
Carmen looked up from her book as the audience jumped up and cheered.
I got a better look at what she had on. She wore one of her signature dresses—bright colors and thin flowing material that formed around her body. I wished I could tear it off her.
The crowd roared and clapped some more.
I remained seated.
One day, I’ll be in the crowd.
She’d made an ugly situation amazing. My jacking off in her bedroom had bred a whole world of gods, goddesses, and warlocks that served them all.
I love you, Carmen.
I got up as everybody sat back down, ready to sneak away as if I’d never been there in the first place.
“So this novel will be released in a year. I just wanted to give you all a nice little teaser,” Carmen said.
People groaned at
the news.
That had to be a good sound for an author. Sure, they missed her writing, but it had to stroke her ego. Her fans craved another hit. She deserved their addiction.
I walked off and slipped between a young couple. People crowded the place, wall to wall. Carmen’s publicist no doubt danced for joy in the background. A few news cameras and photographers had even arrived.
“I also have something pretty hard to confess.” Carmen’s words stopped me. I knew her so well I could read the emotion in her voice, and all of a sudden, she sounded scared.
What happened? What’s wrong, my love?
I turned around and ducked behind a bookshelf.
“You are all my fans.” Carmen motioned to the audience. “And regretfully, I must tell you that I’ve lied to you in the past.”
Gasps ensued. Whispering came next. Cameras flashed, and Carmen nervously blinked through it all.
No, Carmen. Don’t do it. You don’t have to.
“I’m not who I said I was. While the woman from the novel Concrete Rose does exist, she is not me.” She turned to her side and gestured for an older woman to come up to the podium. “The bio that I claimed was mine, an impoverished young woman growing up on the streets as she dealt with trauma from child abuse and molestation... ” Carmen sighed. “Well, that woman is my mother.”
More gasps, but this time, everyone turned their attention to the old woman making her way to Carmen. She took her time. Gray dreadlocks covered her head and draped her shoulders. She used a cane to help her with each step, yet her face glowed with a lovely youthfulness. Had she not had the cane or gray hair, I would’ve thought she was in her thirties. But how that woman glowed with beauty.
Damn. If this is any indication of what Carmen will look like in the future, then sign me up.
Carmen put her arm around her mother’s shoulder and then looked back at the crowd. “I’m sorry. Your trust is not something that I take lightly. My reasoning for the dishonesty was to get the word out about the book; however, I could’ve done it differently, instead of just going the easy route.”
No one said anything. I formed my hands into fists, ready to knock anyone out who wanted to disrespect her.
“I’m sorry, but I stand by my writing and my mother’s story, a sad one that needed to be heard. So I introduce to you, my mother, Alex Walker, the woman who survived all of the atrocities that I included in the book.” She kissed her mom on the cheek as her eyes watered. “This is my mom who I owe my whole life to. This is a woman who has elevated me to places mentally and spiritually that I could have never gotten to on my own. This is my mother, My Concrete Rose.”
A tear spilled from Carmen’s eye as the whole audience cheered. Her jaw dropped. I could see all of the emotions spinning around in her eyes. Fear still swam there, but joy rose too. The clapping continued. People stood. Others hooted. The sounds of joy rose in the room. These people had read Concrete Rose and probably loved it for personal reasons that were dear to their hearts. They could not care less if the author lived the situation or not. All they needed to know was that it was true, that someone could rise out of any horrific situation thrown their way and survive.
The news cameras focused on Carmen and her mother as they answered more questions, and I hoped my dad sat in his cold, empty mansion, watching. How I wish I could’ve seen it, the day when Nicholas Ford lost, and a woman that I loved won. He might’ve taken my mother away from me, although she still existed in my heart, but he couldn’t keep me away from Carmen.
She’d saved us both.
Now what will you do, Dad?
I snatched off my hat and my jacket and stormed into the crowd to go after what I’d wanted to possess all of these months. “Carmen!”
My therapist will probably think I should’ve done this differently, but I don’t give a damn.
The hoots and cheers ceased as I rushed through the audience like an escaped prisoner. “I love you, Carmen!”
The expression on her face was priceless—shock mingled with embarrassment, lust covered in love. She’d done it all for me, risked her career to get my dad off of our backs.
“Is that Adrian Ford?” Someone whispered as I passed. “Oh my God, quick. Give me your phone. Mine is out of battery. Shit. That is him.”
More phones came out as people recorded the moment when Adrian Ford decided to show the entire world that this beautiful, talented author was all his.
“Mine.” I got to the podium, captured her waist, and pulled her into me. “Marry me.”
“Uh—”
There was no need to let her respond. We both knew I would get what I wanted. She’d already had a ring on her finger, just from the wrong Ford. This time, it would be for real, and I’d never let her take it off.
I needed her.
She completed me in ways money, poetry, or even the world’s attention could not. She was shelter during storms, a fire rescue when things got hot, and a helicopter full of military men, prepared to sky dive into the air and protect it all.
People chattered around us as I consumed those lips. I missed you so much. She held on to me tighter and molded her body against mine. My dick hardened in my pants. I was shocked it hadn’t torn through and shown itself to the world. Cameras flashed. We didn’t care. This was our moment, one that had taken several months of anticipation and yearning. This was our day. We could finally be together.
She dragged herself away from my mouth. “I love you.”
I wrenched her back to me. “I love you more.”
Someone cleared their throat next to us as I went in for another taste of that tongue. I didn’t even glance in that direction. A few seconds passed, and Carmen tried to pull away.
I wouldn’t allow it. “No, they had their time.” I lifted her up. “Now, I get my time.” I carried her away from the podium and searched around for a private space.
My cock weighed me down, the tip throbbing with each step as Carmen and I nipped at each other’s lips every few feet.
“You’re absolutely insane,” she whispered. “This is going to be all over the news tonight.”
“Good. It will drown out your confession.” With her still in my arms, I rounded the corner to the fantasy section. “This looks like a good place.” I picked up my pace and got us to the end of the bookshelf. “Here.” I set her down.
“Here, what? This is the horror section.”
“Would you like to go to the erotica one?”
“Adrian, you can’t possibly mean that you—”
“Yes, I’m going to fuck you in this bookstore. Pick the genre, and do it fast, but pages are going to be torn, and fluid is going to end up on book covers. I’m done waiting.” I captured her lips and pressed her small frame against the bookshelf. “This is where I take you.”
“Oh, hell no.” She tried to push my hands away as I yanked up her dress. “We are in a crowded store.”
“I’m aware of that.” I nipped at her neck. “No one will bother us.”
“Says who?”
More clapping sounded behind us. Her mother’s voice rose in the space, as she must’ve gotten on the microphone and began answering questions.
“No one is coming.” I buried my face into her neck. “Now the owner knows that I’m here, she’ll make sure I’m taken care of. You and I have now increased the customers who will come in for the rest of the year. She’ll get exposure that she never would’ve gotten, otherwise.”
“And you know this how?”
“Because I always get my way.”
“Spoiled.”
“Oh yes.” I moved my hands up her thighs, slipped my fingers up to her panties, and pulled them down. “Let me show you how spoiled I am.”
There was a method to having sex in public. One had to be discreet, yet so entrenched in lust that they couldn’t wait a second more. I fell in that odd existence as I lifted the love of my life up and wrapped her legs around me.
“Are you sure you’ve been going to Dr.
Engles?” She giggled when I unzipped my pants, yanked the front of my boxer briefs down, and freed my cock. “I’m thinking you may need some therapy tonight.”
I entered her and groaned. “God damn you’re so wet and tight. You’ve been such a good girl.” I thrust inside of her some more, and she moaned. “This is my therapy tonight, baby. Your body is what I need right now. I won’t leave you until every part of me is healed.”
People clapped off in that background, but it seemed so distant now.
I slid in and out of her achingly slow, just so I could remember every freaking inch of her wet tunnel. The bookshelf knocked against the wall to a rhythmic beat that anyone in earshot would’ve known meant that we were making love. She formed around me just right, meeting my moves with her own.
She’s killing me. There’s no way I’ll last.
We rocked into each other, whispering our I-love-yous in between the low murmurs of pleasures.
The crowd roared and cheered again, and still we humped far away in our own world where just two people lived, dedicated to each other, and so complete, it was almost like we’d been one the whole time.
“I love you, Carmen.”
“Yes.”
“Yes?” I bit the edge of her chin and thrust in her hard. “That’s how you respond to me. Yes. Why not ‘I love you too, Adrian’?”
She licked her lips and wound her hips, delivering a shudder that ran through me. I came close to losing my balance, dropping her, and crashing into the ground. Somehow, I remained upright, but knew it would only be a few seconds more before I spilled inside of her.
“Do you like that?” She licked her lips. “I’m answering your question.”
Still inside of her, I paused and stared into her eyes. “What question?”
“You asked me if I would marry you. And I’m saying yes.”
I tensed. “You just said yes. Oh shit. Did you just say yes to that?”
“Yes.” She smiled and then rocked into me so hard and good that we both orgasmed in that moment together, dripping and spurting into each other, groaning so loud, the crowd stopped cheering. And their whispers rose around our moaning.
News of our episode went viral. There were even a few pictures. Some pervert had taken out his camera and recorded the show.
