I remember this one time when I was a teenager living with her. Her name was Missy. Plump, dirty blonde with rotten teeth and stank breath. A huge drug addict and whore. I was coming to her for my coke fix since she had me fully addicted by that time. In the bedroom, she was sprawled out on the dank and dirty bed naked. Playing with her plump hairy and very smelly pussy, she eyed me. I couldn’t hardly ever get it up unless she made me play with her tits. She had some huge and sexy fun bags. I remember asking her for some coke and she poured a line around her nipple for me to snort and I did. And my dick got so hard it hurt because I was getting my only two things I had good in my life. Coke and her tits. The rest was terrible. I lived in a tiny trailer bedroom with a leaky roof. My bed was a cot and I had four pairs of clothes, one pair of old Nike shoes from the goodwill and nothing else but a book bag for school. And I hated going to school more than I hated Missy. The kids tormented me for being tall and fat. They called me the Hulk. Which nowadays would be fine because the Avengers made the Hulk a sexy icon. Not when I was a kid.
Drawing back into the present, when we reach the twins, Dylan breaks out of mine and Emily’s hands and pummels grandpa into the sand. And they fall into a pile of laughter, him tickling Dylan and in turn Dylan screeching out in childish laughter.
“Come on,” Emily sweetly smiles and waves me over to join her on the large beach blanket that has a blue baby sunshade on it with the twins underneath wearing gowns, with their bare feet poking out of the bunched bottom. I’m so glad Jenna has red hair and Eric has brown. If they looked the same, being able to tell the difference would be impossible in these yellow outfits.
“So how was work today?” She asks, rubbing Eric’s belly with her hands, giving him what she calls a baby massage. Something she read about in a few books. I’ve learned a lot from her this week about babies. How to burp, feed from a bottle if she pumps; which she rarely does. I’ve got the swaddling thing down pat, along with diapering and making sure I keep my son covered until I’ve got a fresh diaper under the dirty one because his little dick sprays pee pretty far. We’ve also went through umbilical care and Emily let me help her bathe the babies twice in these tiny blue bathtubs. I helped hold their weightless bodies as she gently scrubbed each of them with lavender scented baby wash. All of this learning has brought us together and at the same time I’ve absorbed a lot. Her mom has been here to help too, but Emily, being the independent woman she is, doesn’t want much help. Not that I can blame her. She was bedridden for months and now she’s able to walk around and be physical again. Which she’s taking full advantage of even if the doctor’s ordered her to ‘take it easy.' I think keeping busy takes her mind away from the pain I know she’s still experiencing. I’m no fool, I hear her sobbing uncontrollably with her mom at night in her bedroom. Her crying, not her mom. Her mom is just supporting her. Her dad is a typical man, not wanting to get involved and he’s angry at James so I’m sure hearing her cry fuels his fire more. I heard all about his anger the night we played pool. Down to the maiming and murdering he wants to accomplish. Apparently rather slowly and with kitchen knives. He’s a pretty sick dude but he was drunk and his only child is devastated; I kind of understand his fury.
“Work was great, Baby.”
“Care to elaborate?” She chuckles. “Sorry, I need some adult stuff to talk about. And nothing to do with Spongebob, babies, you know who or how I’m feeling.”
I can do that. I’ll give her whatever the hell I can.
“No problem, baby.” I scoot a smidge closer so my hip is touching hers and I wait to see if she pulls away. And she looks to me, down at our touching hips, sighs and goes back to massaging our children. Whew, that was close. “Not much to elaborate on. I just got back about forty minutes or so before you came in. We are all set to leave. Stacy is working extra hard because we are throwing this together last minute.” For you. I want to add but I keep it to myself.
“Are we still leaving next week?”
“The following Monday, but yes.”
“Cool.”
Cool? Is that all you can really give me, baby? Cool?
“Care to elaborate on that one?” I tease and playfully bump into her.
She renders another sigh, longer this time. “Sorry, I’m kind of excited to go. It will be good to get away with the twins. Keeping busy helps. I hate thinking about him. The pain I thought might subside a little but it’s been two weeks since he’s left and it just seems to get worse. When I stop occupying myself my mind instantly goes back to him and how I felt with him…Oh shit, you don’t want to be listening to me. I’m sorry, I’ve got to stop thinking about him.”
She’s got to stop apologizing for not doing a damn thing wrong.
“Go on… if it helps, I want to hear. I don’t mind,” I reassure her and let my hand slide over and rest on her knee. She’s sitting in what we called as a kid, Indian style. I’m not sure what they call it anymore.
Do I want to hear about her feelings for James? No, not really. Actually, hell the fuck no I don’t. But I’m not going to be a complete dick and tell her to go talk to someone else when she’s finally willing to open up to me.
“You sure?”
I nod, squeeze her knee and Jenna starts to cry. Reaching my other hand into my pocket I pick out my phone and check the time. Yep, she’s hungry; it’s feeding time.
“Did you bring a bottle?” I ask, as she pulls Jenna into her arms.
“No, I didn’t have time to pump. We went to breakfast this morning at Denny’s with Davis and sat in the back corner so nobody would recognize me.”
I frown. “Why?” My voice is on guard, she shouldn’t have left the house it isn’t safe. Why would she do that?
“Why, what?”
“Why did you go?”
Leaning in closer she whispers. “My parents don’t think about the media problems. They think I’m some normal woman in a normal life, who just lost her fiancé and had twins. They forget the rest. So they had Dylan all dressed and ready by the time I got up and fed and dressed the babies. Dylan was so excited to be leaving and I didn’t want to break his heart so I called Davis to take us, even though it’s his day off. And he said it was fine. But we both know it’s not fair to him. Anyhow, we went to Denny’s and I felt completely uncomfortable, I’m ugly and fat now that I’ve had these two and James is the only man I want protecting me. Don’t get me wrong—I trust Davis, I just don’t trust him enough to kick some ass if it came down to it. I know James would have taken a bullet for me and I don’t think Davis would.”
I can’t stop thinking about the fact that she left and I had no idea. That’s not how this works. She can’t just leave.
“Where was Cammy?” If she was home and didn’t call to tell me they were leaving I will fucking hurt her tonight and I don’t think she’ll like it as much. I will turn her ass into welts as I fuck her ass. I’m so fucking pissed!!
“I don’t know. Not here.”
If Cammy wasn’t home then where the fuck was she?
I growl. This is bullshit. My baby was in public with only one motherfuckin’ guard and I had no clue!
“You can’t leave without telling me,” I snap.
“What?” She sounds surprised.
“You fuckin’ heard me bitch, you better not leave this fuckin’ house with my children and Dylan without at least two or three of those new guards. Do you understand?” I lowly order, making sure I don’t yell because I don’t want to upset her mom or dad who are building a castle with Dylan but she better understand this shit better never happen again.
Removing my hand from her leg I punch the sand, grunting. I’ve got to get rid of this pent up anger. Shit, this isn’t good.
Punching the sand again and leaving my fist in it, I turn my head and go to glower at her. My anger vibrating through me. But as my face takes in her body, Jenna’s mouth on her exposed breast, a hand slices across my face. Fuck! What the hell?
“Don’t you ever call me a bitc
h again you asshole,” she seethes, her eyes glowing with furry. Oh shit I did call her a bitch. Dammit! And things were going so good. I shouldn’t have lashed out at her. Talk about a quick turnaround. I’m no longer angry and in its place I’m drowning in guilt. Why do I always have to ruin such a great time with her?
“I’m…”
She slaps me again. Harder this time and my face burns like hot coal.
“Don’t you fucking ever call me a bitch,” she reiterates like I didn’t get it the first time.
I got it… I understand… Trust me.
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” I hold my hands up in defeat and she takes Jenna off her breast and places her back in her spot next to Eric. Her eyes never leaving me. She’s fuming.
“You better be sorry.” She turns to face me and her hand goes to slap me again, except I catch it mid hit this time.
“Stop hitting me,” I order firmly, trying not to yell at her again.
“No, you fucking deserve it. You called me a bitch, you knocked me up, you hurt me over and over… then I fell in love with someone else because you couldn’t get your shit together… And now he’s killed me. I’m dead inside!” She screeches, letting out all of her pain. Unleashing it on me and I deserve every single bit of it.
I let go of her hand and a tear escapes her eyes. Awe, my poor baby, don’t cry.
“I know. I’m…”
She slaps me in the face again and this time my reflexes don't react quickly enough to catch it.
“That is enough!” I roar. This shit has got to fucking stop. I don’t like to be hit! Goddammit!
Seizing both of her wrists, I push her backward onto the blanket, her back landing in the sand, her hair splaying beautifully around her and hold her arms above her head, her body under mine. Oh shit this isn’t a good position. Not a good idea. Fuuuuccckkk. My cock gets the memo of what my mind is seeing and I turn painfully hard.
“Get off of me, asshole,” she snaps aggressively, filling every word.
“No, you better stop fuckin’ hittin’ me.”
She’s wiggling under my body to break free. I’m not going to let up until she stops being a bitch and gives up on the slapping. I hate to be slapped. I may deserve it but I don’t want it. My face is burning and I’m sure it’s going to swell. She doesn’t slap like a chick. She slaps like a gay dude, just like Stacy would.
“I’m not going to stop, you are an asshole and deserve it.”
She’s lost her ever lovin’ mind! And my cock is beggin’ to take advantage of this situation. Stupid dick!
“I don’t deserve it, baby. I love you. And I might have fucked up a lot in the past. But I’m here now and I love you baby. I love you so damn much.” I accidentally hump her and her jaw tightens, lips draw in, and eyes squint. She’s beyond the pissed off point. She’s into psycho mode. I know she’s hurting and it’s feeding her pain. But damn this has got to stop.
“You’re hard? Does this shit turn you on, dickhead?”
“Yes… Thinking about you makes me hard. Seeing you makes me hard. You’re sexy as hell. What do you expect?” I answer honesty, and my hips involuntarily hump into her again. I really have to stop that!
All of a sudden she stops fighting me and her body goes lax. What the hell? Saying uncle already?
“Since you’re never going to stop trying to get into my pants or be with me, just do it and get it over with.” She turns her head to the side and opens her legs further. Her tone is so sad it makes my heart ache. Is her life really that bad that she’d just give in? I know she doesn’t want this.
“I’m done bleeding. Get you’re rocks off. Use me and leave me. Everyone I’ve ever been with does it. Take another turn.” Her monotone words shrivel up my manhood and it retreats, feeling like a complete jackass.
Holy fuckin’ shit, why didn’t I think! Her first boyfriend cheated, me and my Grand Canyon load of shit, then Claire and now James. Fuckin’A, we are all undeserving of her. All of us hurt her. We should all rot in hell!
“I’m not going to sleep with you baby,” I reassure her gently.
“Why not? It’s what you want. It’s what everyone wants from me and then they want to leave. I’m not innocent, I know I’m horny too. But I don’t choose to leave. They all leave me.” She mopes, and I slide off of her, onto my side. I rub my hand up and down her belly, just so I know she’s here with me and to show her I do care. Her head’s turned away from me, looking out over the sand. She’s lost. I knew she was in pain from James leaving. I’ve known I’ve put her through hell. But I never realized how many people have taken a piece of her and broken her. And now it’s hit the wall and she just can’t take it anymore. I don’t blame her one bit.
“What do you want?” I lean in and softly kiss her bare shoulder.
“I want someone to want to love me. Someone to be with me like James was. I thought he loved me. Then he broke up with me and left. I’m not mad about the assignment, whatever it is. I’m hurt because he decided he didn’t want me while he was away. I would have waited for him for the rest of my life. For him to come home to me. If he wanted me. But apparently no one loves me enough to stay and be faithful and honest. I can’t ever be with you Johnathan. Not how you want. My heart was never yours.”
I suck in a painful breath. God that hurts to hear aloud.
“I do love you and I’m grateful for you and us having Eric and Jenna. But James opened up parts of me that I never knew existed. He loved me like I never knew was possible. I never worried about his intentions, or how he felt. We were always open and honest with one another. He comforted me way before we were a couple. He was always my better half. Until now. Where half of my whole is gone and I’m left broken and empty. Nothing tastes, feels, or smells right anymore. It all seems blah. Except those moments I hold our children or Dylan, and for those moment’s I feel whole again. Like he’s here with me.”
I don’t know what to say to this. It ruins my plans for us. I thought maybe I could convince her to be with me. But as she explains it, she feeds an understanding into my soul and somehow I get her. She’s herself with James. As I am myself with Cammy. I don’t put up a front or act different to please her. She loves me for who I am. Something Emily has never done. Maybe Emily’s not my soul mate. Maybe Cammy is. Or maybe they don’t even exist.
Lowering onto my back I stare into the blue sky. Emily’s beside me, probably immersed in her own thoughts as I dive into mine. If Emily ever gave me what I wanted, would I feel whole? Possibly. Would I give Cammy and our life together up? No. Could I stop pursuing Emily and stick to just Cammy? Isn’t that what I’ve been doing all along? Be with Cammy. I’ve never really had Emily. Not really, had her. I love her, there is no doubt and I can’t picture her anywhere but in my life. But giving up my sex with Cammy to be with Emily and not feed the sick sadistic man that lives at my very core, would be denying who I really am. A man who Cammy loves, even with my many flaws.
Turning back over onto my side, I’ve made up my mind. It might hurt and it might be hard and I’m not going to say I’m going to always follow through. I’m not a saint for cryin’ out loud.
“Emily?”
“Yes?” She faintly whispers with a sob. Oh shit, she’s been crying. I wish I had a solution to fix her pain. Maybe this tour will give her some peace and ease her mind. She really deserves it.
“I won’t try to be with you anymore. I promise I’ll try. You don’t need me pressuring you as you are trying to sort stuff out. And I’m very sorry for ever hurting you. I know I’m a—as you so eloquently put it, ‘a big misogynistic womanizing male whore,'” I chuckle and she does too. Good, we’re getting somewhere.
We banter back and forth with small talk and she admits she’s thankful for me letting her breathe, as she put it. Our children stay asleep. It’s strange how many hours newborns actually do sleep. Dylan and grandma and pa finish up their giant castle right next to the shore and we all go back inside. I feel sort of relieved. Not sure I
can actually give her what she needs, in way of leaving her alone. Because as much as I know Cammy is right for me and I love her, I can’t deny the magnetism I have toward my Short Stack. She’s addicting and no matter who I end up with in the end, I will always love and I will always be drawn her perfection. A perfection that is too good for me or my anaconda or anyone else for that matter.
***
“Get undressed and bend over the pool table when you’re done now.” I command my dirty whore, who’s on her knees in front of me where she belongs. I need to release my anger and my stress and she’s the perfect woman to let it out on.
After the beach today and dinner tonight, I stayed home when Emily rode with Davis to drop her parents off at the airport. She came home and has been locked in her room with our children listening to Mariah Carey’s god-awful ‘My all’ and the ridiculously stupid N’sync song ‘I drive myself crazy thinking you’ on repeat for the past three hours. I tried to go in and talk to her but she locked the door and told me to ‘Leave her the fuck alone.’ And I’m sticking to my word, giving her space. Even though it’s killing me.
Dylan went home with Davis tonight to hang with him and his wife; he does this pretty often. He loves Davis and I have a feeling Davis does it to help reassure James. They are buddies, after all. So after my seriously infuriating brush off with Emily I tried to sit in my bedroom. Bad idea, because I could hear her off key singing all the way upstairs. Not that she’s horrible, but she should leave the singing to me. The man who actually gets paid to belt out a tune. And she should stop singing the same two songs over and over and over as she cries. It’s not been a fun night. To top it all off Eric still hates me and won’t let me hold him more than a few minutes without wanting his mom and Cammy can’t even get him to calm down most of the time. Jenna vomited breast milk all over my black Guns N Roses shirt. I was ready to scream and run away by the time Emily got back from taking her parents to the airport. And when I told her what happened—well, I didn’t tell her. I kind of flipped my lid because of the stress. I don’t know how she does it. It just confirms how great she is that she takes care of both babies on her own a lot of the time. Anyhow, she didn’t comment on my rantings and brought the babies into her room and locked the door. That’s when the music started and I’ve been losing my mind ever since.
Stricken Rock Series: Complete Box Set Page 77
