My body runs on autopilot as I take the sight of him in. My hips still grind into him, but I pull back from the kiss to fully appreciate his body. Thankfully the stage lights provide enough diffused lighting to see him clearly, even if it’s under an almost neon blue light. He has an eight pack, which I didn’t even know was possible, and there are even little ridges of hard muscle on either side of his abs, complete with a hard “V” that cuts straight down to his cock.
I bite my lip, unable to feel it all fast enough or to get my fill. “Have you ever eaten a hamburger in your life?” I ask.
He laughs with surprise. “You’re thinking about food right now?”
“No,” I say. “I’m trying to figure out how you get a body like this.”
He shrugs. “We can talk about my diet later, kitten. Right now I’m more interested in getting back inside you.”
“Deal,” I say, bending back down to kiss him and letting him guide his length inside me.
I gasp, finding being on top and in control to be an entirely different experience with him. Thankfully, my core still hasn’t recovered from the last time he was inside me, so even though it’s still a snug fit, it’s easier to take him, and I don’t waste any time.
Our bodies move together until there seems to be nothing but the sensation of sweat-slicked skin against mine, the fullness from his throbbing length inside me, and the fire of passion threatening to burn me to cinders. In this moment, my heart is laid as bare as my body, raw and exposed, and for the first time in my life, I feel what it’s like to offer myself up without walls and not have it thrown back in my face.
“I’m going to cum,” I say haltingly into his ear, threading my fingers behind his neck for leverage, still increasing my pace.
“Join the fucking club,” he growls, and as if on cue, he tenses and I’m met with a warm rush of his cum deep inside me.
I bury my face in his neck, breathing him in while my own climax tears through me, threatening to shatter me of I don’t hold on tightly enough--if I don’t hold on to him.
The world comes back to me gradually, and only after a few minutes have passed and I’ve ridden out the aftershocks of my orgasm with his length still throbbing inside me. I hear the sounds of the performance and the crowd grow louder, as if someone slowly turns an unseen volume knob.
“Sounds like the show’s over,” I say, wiping a sweaty lock of hair from my forehead.
“But what a fucking show it was,” he says, smirking.
I blush, looking down and finding nothing to quench my embarrassment. My eyes fall on his chiseled torso and my own bare legs on top of him and the small patch of his pubic hair I can see between my legs. God. I can’t believe I’m sleeping with a man like this. No one would even bat an eyelash if I told them he was a professional model or some kind of superstar. He looks the part and then some, and yet right now all his attention is focused on me, every last drop of it.
I smile self-consciously, easing myself off of him, feeling his cum still inside me. A small amount drips down the inside of my thigh, but I feel no desire to clean it away. It’s a part of him, a reminder that I was able to please him and of how much he wanted me. Maybe that’s kinky or gross, but I don’t feel that way with Dean. I know Sean’s cum always made me want to throw up. The thought of it touching me would’ve been enough to make me nauseous.
I slip my dress back on, blushing even harder when I realize he’s content to just lounge back and watch me.
The crowd bursts into applause and I nearly lose my balance, toppling over the waist-high railing and falling. For a moment I thought they were applauding the peep show, that maybe they had somehow noticed us, but a quick look down reveals the show is ending. Somehow, Dean managed to get to his feet and put his arms around me steadying me.
“Nice catch,” I say.
“Don’t scare me like that.”
I look down and see his cock still hard and glistening with my wetness. I bite my lip.
“Damn, kitten. You’re not done?”
My eyes flick up to his and I shake my head quickly. “Sorry, no. We should get out of here before they come to clean up or whatever they do. I was just… I was--um. Admiring it,” I say very quietly.
He barks a laugh. “I hope you’re never planning to leave.”
Me too.
11
Dean
“So do I still need to worry about you going back to Sean?” I ask Camille, who lays beside me on the bed.
A few days have passed since our time together in the theater, and I’ve learned Camille’s sex drive is about as insatiable as my own. When she’s not hanging out with Selene, joking with my brothers, or spending time with Jen and giving her vocal lessons, Camille is with me--whether it’s in the bedroom, the bathroom, or even a closet if that’s the closest piece of privacy we can manage. She has me on overdrive. No amount of her seems to be enough, and I find myself thinking about the next time we’ll be together only moments after we fuck.
“I don’t know,” says Camille. She inches forward so her cheek rests on my shoulder and runs her finger down my chest, idly playing with the hairs there. “Are you only giving me this much attention because you’re afraid I will? Because I’ll say or do whatever I have to to keep this going.”
I grin. “I’m giving you this much attention because you’re all that’s on my mind. I can’t stop thinking about you. I don’t want to.”
“Well, then no. You don’t have to worry about me going back to Sean. You haven’t had to for a while now. I think that poison is out of my system,” she adds a little more seriously.
“Good,” I say. I thought as much, but it’s reassuring to at least hear her say it.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, lifting her head to search my face.
“Everything’s fine,” I say a little too stiffly.
In classic female form, she levels a glare at me that only has one meaning. Speak up or die. I shake my head, leaning back into the pillows and threading my fingers behind my head. “I can’t shake the feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop, that it can’t be this easy to get everything I want.”
“Can’t it be?” she asks. “I know nothing has ever been easy for me, but maybe everybody deserves to have something work out the right way once in awhile.”
“I hope so,” I say, though I feel no relief. I feel only the lingering dread that Sean or Barry will follow through on their threats and find a way to come between us. The brief but very crazy idea crosses my mind that we’ll never be safe together as long as those two are alive. But I’m no killer. Not by a long shot. If one of them makes the mistake of fucking with us, I’ll happily lay them out, but killing? I have a daughter. I have Camille now, too.
Murph, Tanner, Selene, and Jen are all playing some video game on the big screen in the living room when we head downstairs for the day.
“Shut the front door!” shouts Murph, throwing down the controller. “Shut the front door” is his go-to sort of swear word to use when Jen is around.
“Munch a mushroom!” shouts Jen with a grin.
“Jen!” I say sternly.
They all turn to look at me.
“What?” asks Jen.
“Don’t… Just--” I start, searching for the right words. “No munching mushrooms.”
“It’s just a phrase, Daddy. Like tickle me timbers or bread that butta’”
“You’ve been hanging around Uncle Murph too much,” I say.
“Oh lay a loaf, bro,” says Murph. “The little lady just wants to have the lingo down to impress and distress.”
“What did I just walk into?” asks Camille, looking around with a genuine face of bewilderment.
I point to the small mountain of empty Mountain Dew cans on the end table. “Caffeine,” I say simply. “Murph and Jen are supposed to keep away from the stuff because it makes them intolerable.”
“Intolerable?” asks Murph, who proceeds to make an unintelligible sound--it’s something between
a scream and laughter. “That hurts. I always thought you enjoyed me and all my quirks.”
“You have one quirk. Being obnoxious. But yes, I enjoy it, in small doses. When there’s caffeine in you though, you tend to use up my tolerance in about thirty seconds.”
Murph raises his eyebrows at his watch. “Three… Two… One… Damn. Looks like I’m out of time.”
“Sorry, Daddy,” says Jen. “Uncle Murph made me do it.”
Selene claps a hand to her mouth and shares a laugh with Tanner while they watch Murph throw his hands up in surrender.
“Betrayed?” he cries. “By my own niece no less?”
“I see why you try to keep them away from caffeine,” says Camille.
“Camille,” says Jen, who appears suddenly very serious. “I’m going to need you to come with me. Selene,” she says, as if the idea just occurs to her. “You had better come too.”
Without any more warning, the three girls leave me alone with my brothers. Tanner still lounges on the couch and Murph is pacing now. I watch him closely, realizing I thought he was just being his usual self, pushing the limits of obnoxiousness to get a laugh. But now I see something else. There are bags under his eyes and he can’t seem to make eye contact with me.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Murph exchanges a look with Tanner, who nods solemnly, as if giving permission. “We should’ve told you sooner, but we thought we could handle it ourselves. You know, pay you back for everything you’ve done.”
“Slow down. First of all, you don’t owe me shit. We’re family. You two can stay here as long as you need to. No questions asked. You hear me?”
They nod, but I can tell there’s more. They are afraid to say whatever it is.
“So what’s going on?” I ask.
“It’s Camille’s ex,” says Murph. “Tanner and I were over by the overpass just enjoying some of the girls at that club. What’s it called again?”
“Tittie Twisters,” says Tanner. “I think,” he adds unconvincingly.
“Yeah, and we saw him there. Thing is he recognized us. Said he knew who we were and that we had better get his fucking girl back to him or else. Dude is fucked up. He said he had more connections than we realized, and that we’d be sorry. What was it he said?”
“Count your days ‘cause they’re numbered,” says Tanner.
“So he delivers his message and just walks off like he’s some kind of tough shit. Well, we waited till he went to the back for a lap dance and followed him. Tanner slipped the bouncer some money to cover for us,” says Murph, who stalls now, pacing again and wiping his nose in a nervous, irritated way. “We were just going to talk,” he says.
“But…” I prompt.
“But when we started arguing, the stripper tried to leave. She said she wasn’t getting paid enough for that shit. Sean though… He grabbed her by the neck and slammed her into the wall so hard her head dented the plaster. He pulled his arm back like he was going to knock her fucking teeth out, too, so… So we jumped him.”
I look to Tanner, who nods with distant eyes, like he’s replaying what happened.
“So you kicked his ass. He was already pissed, what difference does it make?” I say. I don’t talk about the stripper, though. I don’t mention that because my stomach is twisting to think this was the man who lived with my Camille for two years. A man doesn’t just lash out that violently if he doesn’t have a history, and though I knew he beat Camille, it’s different to have a clear mental picture of exactly how he beat her. “Forget him,” I say, not sure if I’m talking to myself or my brothers.
“Problem is one of his boys showed up,” says Murph. “He tried to pull me off Sean, and I just kind of pushed back. It was a simple fucking thing. The guy was on my back and I pushed him back, I guess I thought maybe I’d slam him into the wall and he’d let go. But there was a table behind us. A high table--one of the kind the girls get up on and dance. There was this sound when I slammed him backwards into the table. Like a table leg breaking.”
Tanner winces, as if he can still hear it.
“The guy just dropped,” says Murph. “It was like all the life snuffed out of him in a split second. One second he’s trying to help his friend and probably thinking about what he wants for dinner, the next he’s just meat and bones on the ground, man. I killed him.”
Each word stabs through me like a cold blade. “You’re sure?” I ask. My own voice sounds distant and muffled through my heartbeat pounding in my ears. “You’re fucking sure?”
Murph makes a kind of whimpering sound and turns away. Tanner meets my eyes and nods solemnly.
“Does anyone know? What happened to the body?” I ask.
“Sean knows,” says Murph. “Probably. I’m not sure if he was conscious.”
“We took care of the body,” says Tanner, who stands now, looking older than his twenty-eight years.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say quickly. “You two know I have your backs. No matter what happens.”
“What if jail happens? Or lethal injection?” asks Tanner, who stands up and threads his hands behind his head. “You going to be able to bail us out of that?”
“It won’t come to that,” I say. “We’ll figure this out. It was an accident. I’ll get my attorneys working on it.”
“No attorneys,” says Murph. “Killing him was an accident, but throwing the body in a dumpster wasn’t.”
“Shit,” I say.
“Yeah. Shit,” agrees Tanner. “We couldn’t just leave a body at the club though.”
“When did this all happen?” I ask.
“Last night when you two went to the show. Selene was watching Jen for us.”
“You made your girlfriend stay home to babysit while you went to a strip club?” I ask Tanner.
“Okay, first of all, girlfriend is a strong word. Second of all, that is your biggest concern right now?”
I shake my head at them. “No, but it’s still a shitty thing to do. Not to mention dangerous. Selene seems… unpredictable.”
“Okay, Dad,” says Murph sarcastically. “We’ve been naughty, but will you help us get away with it? Please,” he adds more sincerely.
“You know I will. I said I will and I will. I’m still going to talk to my lawyers. They know how to handle this kind of shit. Until then, you two don’t talk to anyone about this. Okay? Not a soul. If it gets out, we could all get dragged down together. And I sure as hell don’t want Jen to hear about it.”
“Hear about what?” asks Jen. “Did Uncle Murph pee on someone’s house again?”
“No,” says Murph, recovering impressively from the look of despair he was wearing just a moment ago. He crosses his arms in a show of confidence. “I pooped in a urinal.”
“Oh God,” says Jen.
Selene makes a gagging sound.
Camille laughs so hard she shorts. “What made you--why would you even--I don’t--” she stammers between laughs.
Murph grins back. “Live each day like it could be your last. You never know, right? YOLO,” he says, like it’s the most profound thing in the world, and then heads off to his room.
12
Camille
“So what’s your plan? You’ve been here almost as long as I have now, and Scott must be calling you about work by now.” I ask Selene. We’re sitting on the second floor terrace above the pool and the gardens. Two sweeping staircases lead down from here, but we’re content to sit by the glass railing and look out over the beautiful grounds and let the sun warm us as we talk. It has been far too long since I found a chance to sit down with Selene.
She leans back in her chair, tilting her sunglasses down from her hair to cover her eyes. She looks out to her right, letting the sun bathe her face and smiles. “Fuck him,” she says with an amused quirk of her lips.
“Seriously though,” I prompt.
“Seriously,” she says. “Fuck him. I’ve worked there long enough. Maybe this won’t last, maybe it will, but I can find another
job. There are thousands of restaurants around here, and I’m a damn good waitress.”
“Yeah,” I say. “And if anyone doesn’t believe you, they will be too scared to disagree.”
“What are you trying to say?” she asks, leaning forward and lifting her sunglasses to glare at me.
I laugh. “See?”
She sighs, sitting back again and folding her arms under her breasts. “I just don’t see the point in passing up a chance to live like this. It’s not just the money or the mansion. It’s like we’re getting to do the kind of thing you only read about people doing, you know? I mean, who just shacks up with a trio of ridiculously handsome rich guys and leaves everything behind for the thrill of the moment?”
I let out a long breath, pulling at a loose thread on my dress. “Maybe people don’t do it because they are afraid it will end and they’ll have to go back to the life they let fall apart while they were gone. Maybe it will be worse than when they left.”
“You thinking about Sean?” she asks, reaching out to clutch my hand.
“A little,” I admit.
“You know what? Fuck him too. Dean could wipe the floor with him, and I seriously doubt a man like that is going to let anything happen to you. Sean is behind you now. You get a chance to move on and start fresh.”
“Yeah,” I say, still feeling unconvinced somehow. “I hope you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right,” she snaps. “When was the last time I was wrong? And don’t answer that,” she says quickly. “My point is that I’ve never steered you wrong--too wrong, at least. So you should trust me.”
“I do trust you,” I say. “I just wish I trusted Sean not to do something crazy. I’ve crossed him before, and he just… Whenever he thought I betrayed him, he just went berserk, like he wasn’t satisfied until he thought I had gotten it worse than I gave it. Sometimes I think if an ant bit him on the toe, he wouldn’t be satisfied until he had poisoned every colony of ants within ten miles, until every last one was dead.”
Single Dad's Hostage: A Fake Marriage Romance Page 10
