Not the Stand In: A BBW New Adult Serial Romance (Not the Hot Chick series Book 2)

by N. Raines

  She relaxed and applied herself to her task. His scent was clean and musky, his flavor salty. As much she enjoyed his gasps and moans, after some time her knees began to hurt and her jaws ached. Before either became too uncomfortable, Cam pulled back.

  She licked her swollen lips and gazed up at him in confusion. He hadn't come.

  "You're amazing," he said. "But I want to finish inside you."

  Yes. She wanted that, too. He helped her to her feet, then startled her by scooping her up and hauling her against him for a hard, hungry kiss. Still holding her, he backed her to a wall free of shelving. He let her slip down his body to stand her on the floor only long enough to jerk up his jeans and pull something from his pocket.

  A wallet, from which he extracted a square packet. He shoved the pants down, tossed the wallet to the floor with an impatient curse, tore open the packet, and eased the condom down his shaft. Layla swallowed hard as she watched. It was all she could do not to jump him, she wanted him inside her so bad.

  A sudden fear shivered down her spine, one that should have occurred to her much sooner. "Is the door locked?"

  "No." And then his hands were under her skirt, cupping her bare ass. Her back was to the wall when he lifted her and plunged inside. Though she was slick and wet and ready for him, his suddenness surprised her. Her breath escaped in a whoosh as she flung her arms around his neck, wrapped her legs around his hips, and held on tight for the ride of her life.

  "That door could open anytime." He grunted as he thrust in and out. "Anybody could walk in and find us like this. Me between your legs. Fucking your brains out."

  Layla bit her lip as she pictured someone walking in on them. Standing there in the doorway, too shocked to move. Instead of shaming her, the image fired her excitement. She and Cam were playing a risky, dangerous game.

  "How's that make you feel, little Layla?" Cam hissed the question from between clenched teeth. "Somebody finding us here, your skirt up around your waist? Both of us bare-assed, me pumping into you? Does that turn you on? Huh? Make you hot?"

  It did. "God." She curled her hips toward his pelvis, meeting his every thrust, squeezing inner muscles to slow his withdrawal. With each forward surge, sparks danced along her skin. He dug his fingers into the soft flesh of her bottom as his breathing grew rough and his strokes grew shorter, quicker. On his last plunge she ground her clit against the base of his cock and blasted off into climax. Cam groaned as he followed right behind.

  They relaxed, their heads together as the orgasm dissipated. Then they both began to laugh. Layla's laughter was soft while Cam's was deep and chesty.

  She slapped her fingers over his mouth. "Shush. They might hear us." Whoever they were—customers passing by on their way to the bathroom or employees wondering where the bartender had disappeared to.

  He nipped her index finger. "You didn't care about that a couple minutes ago."

  "Don't remind me." She ought to be embarrassed. Hell, she ought to be downright ashamed of herself. Was this the way a substitute teacher should behave? But truth be told, Layla was damn proud of herself. At last she had lived out a wicked fantasy and now had a naughty secret to keep. What a rush.

  He still held her off the floor, and she was no lightweight. Taking pity on him, she loosened her arms from around his neck. "You can let me down now."

  He sighed as though reluctant to let her go, then slid her down his body until her toes touched the floor. More sparks flickered through her even from that brief contact.

  As she straightened her skirt, he removed the condom, pulled up his pants, and wrapped the used rubber in a tissue he fished from his pocket. "I'll flush this in a minute."

  They gazed at each other. This part, the after-sex part, should have been awkward. Yet for some reason, Layla wasn't embarrassed or uncomfortable. Didn't wonder What happens next? She had no expectations or hopes for a future with him. It was what it was. And it had been incredible.

  Cam, on the other hand, looked thoughtful. He tilted his head to gaze at her. "So…we good?"

  She hadn't expected that. "Better than good. Shouldn't we be?"

  He shrugged. "Oh, sure. Yeah."

  For some reason he seemed ill at ease. Had he expected something from her, something more? "It was amazing. Thanks."

  His smile didn't reach his eyes. "You're welcome. It was great for me, too." He snatched a quick kiss. "I'll head out first. When I knock, that means the coast is clear."

  "Okay. Don't forget your wallet."

  "Right." He scooped it off the floor and jammed it back into his pocket. "Don't forget your panties."

  She huffed a laugh. "Like I would."

  He opened the door a crack, peered outside, and made his escape. Layla found her panties and slipped them on when she heard the tap on the door. After grabbing her purse, she stepped to the door and peeked into the hall. The coast was clear.

  She must look a mess. Pushing back her hair, she turned left in the direction of the ladies' room instead of heading back to the main area.

  She grimaced when she caught a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror. Her blonde hair was a tangled mop, her lipstick destroyed, her lips kiss-swollen. Anybody looking at her would know what she'd been doing. But when she saw how her eyes sparkled and her skin glowed, her grimace turned to a grin. Damn, she was tempted to march into the barroom with her bad self right this minute. Let them all see what a satisfied, freshly laid woman looked like. They'd be jealous as hell.

  She shook her head as she pulled a comb from her purse. Nah. Why make them all feel bad? Anyway, this was her little secret. Hers and Cam's. Another memory to warm her on a cold, lonely night.

  Her smile melted away as a small wave of regret rippled through her. Too bad a memory was all it could be. But she had to be realistic. She'd made the mistake of allowing herself to imagine a future with Cam the first time they'd hooked up. And just as she'd been dreaming of sharing breakfast and a long walk in the park, he'd been zipping his pants, getting ready to say good-bye and go home.

  Layla tugged the comb through her rat's nest and sighed. Cam was a hottie who had too many options when it came to women. Why would a guy settle for a plain old chocolate bar when he could have his fill of sourballs, jelly beans, licorice, and every kind of treat in the candy store?

  But she was good with that, because someday she'd meet a man to spend her life with, and chocolate would be his favorite flavor.

  All I have to do is find him.

  She slipped the comb into her purse and thrust back her shoulders with an encouraging nod to her reflection. Be happy. Cam never slept with Jessi, and he wasn't comparing you to her. Tonight you were nobody's stand-in.

  After pushing open the door, she stepped into the hall and marched toward the barroom, confidence in every step. As she reached the archway leading into the bar, she froze. Cam sat at their table with a fresh bottle. Across from him sat a smoking hot redhead, smiling and playing with her hair.

  Layla waited and tried to breathe through the disappointment that gathered size and weight as it traveled from her throat to her chest. At last it settled in her stomach, as large and heavy as a medicine ball. Let it pass. Just let it pass.

  She wasn't surprised, really. Hadn't she just told herself that Cam would always be surrounded by women? Hot, cute, sexy women would approach him, flirt with him, proposition him. She just hadn't expected to be confronted with the reality quite so soon.

  What would Jessi do? Storm out there, cause a scene, toss a drink in someone's face, and start some serious hair pulling. But she wasn't Jessi.

  No, she was Layla. And that was just fine.

  Thrusting her shoulders back one more time, she strutted over to the table with a big smile. She nodded at the redheaded hair-twirler and squeezed Cam's shoulder. "Take care, now."

  She heard a chair scrape the floor as she walked out the door, but she didn't look back. It was only when she was halfway down the block and he called her name that she turned around. "
What's up?" She kept her tone light and breezy.

  He sputtered. "What's up?" Confusion crinkled his brow. "You tell me. Why'd you just take off like that?"

  Okay, he wasn't just confused. He was pissed. Well, tough. "What should I have done? Sat down and waited for you to introduce me to your friend?"

  "She's not a friend. Just a girl who started talking to me. What, are you mad?"

  Yes, she was, but she had no right to be. She took a deep breath. "No. Look, why don't you go on back? She's still there. Maybe you can get lucky tonight."

  His expression was tight. "I already got lucky."

  Layla spun away, but Cam caught her arm. "I didn't mean it like that. Shit, Layla. You were just going to walk off without a word? That's not how friends act."

  She blinked. They were friends? She gazed at him, taking in his demeanor, his stance, the look in his eyes. If she hadn't been so self-involved, she'd have noticed it sooner. She'd hurt his feelings.

  "Yeah." She'd acted exactly like some misogynistic douche who slept with a woman, then pretended not to know her the next day. "You're right. I'm sorry."

  He dipped his head, acknowledging the apology, and shifted his feet. "So…"

  "So…"

  They gazed at each other silently. Now what? Layla made a snap decision and held out her hand. "Let me have your phone."

  With a look of puzzlement, he handed it over.

  She spoke while she tapped the screen. "Friends call each other, right? They text. So here's my number. If you want to hang out sometime—as friends—let me know."

  He wore a hopeful little grin when she gave the phone back. "Friends with benefits?"

  She sent him a quelling look. "You wish. No. Just friends."

  He poked out his lower lip and slumped his shoulders, mugging disappointment.

  Oh, well. There had to be boundaries. She liked Cam. He was a great guy—kind, smart, fun to be with. But he was, without a doubt, a chick magnet. She couldn't sleep with him—no matter how crazy good the sex—knowing there would be plenty of others as well. That was not how she was made.

  Truth to tell, she was a bit disappointed, too. Sex with Cam was truly awesome.

  Don't go there, she told herself.

  He extended his hand. "Let me put my number in your phone now."

  She shook her head. "No."

  His arm fell to his side. "Why not?"

  "Because. If you want to be friends, you can call me." She wasn't going to make the first move. She'd already done that today. Now the ball was in his court. She'd find out soon enough if he was sincere or just blowing smoke. If she never heard from him again, she'd know he had no interest in continuing a friendship. She'd know he was only in it for the sex. And she'd deal.

  But if she had his number, she'd reminisce about their hookup and want to hear his voice. Layla wasn't sure she'd be able to resist the temptation to call him. She'd come off as needy and pathetic, then want to kill herself if he seemed disinterested or annoyed. So, no. She wouldn't take his number.

  She wished she could ease his look of puzzlement, but she couldn't say more without betraying herself. She smiled and stepped back. "Take it easy, Cam. Maybe I'll…" hear from you. See you again. Your decision.

  Since she couldn't finish the sentence, she shrugged, turned, and walked away. She kept her back ramrod straight, her shoulders squared, her steps swift and confident. It took everything she had not to stop and look back at him.

  Keep walking. Just keep walking.

  ****

  Cam gazed at Layla as she walked away. Whoa. What just happened?

  She'd torn through his day like a whirlwind, sweeping him off his feet, spinning him round and round, tossing him head over heels. Now she was gone, with him flat on his back, his clothing tattered and his brain buffeted.

  What happened to the shy, blushing Layla he'd hooked up with months ago?

  Cam grinned. She's learned a few things since then.

  He blinked at his phone, still in his hand exactly where she'd placed it.

  "Here's my number. If you want to hang out—as friends— let me know."

  As friends. That was the catch.

  After their rocking session in the storeroom, he wasn't sure he'd be satisfied going back to being "just friends" with her.

  And you're just figuring that out now. Great timing, dumb ass.

  He might have had more with her, once. After the first time they hooked up, he'd lingered in the hall of her apartment building. She'd been sweet and cute, and the sex had been damn good. He'd thought about going back to her, to see if they could turn their one night into something more. But he'd talked himself out of it with a dozen stupid reasons.

  And now, she was the one putting on the brakes.

  He felt a little sad at the thought of never again getting busy with Layla. But the thought of never seeing her again made him even sadder. He hadn't felt that way about any girl since…

  No, don't go there.

  Hell, why was he just standing here like a dummy? He liked Layla. And a guy couldn't have too many friends, right?

  He'd wimped out the first time they got together. Now that fate or luck or whatever had reunited them, he wouldn't make that same mistake again.

  As he tapped the screen and raised the phone to his ear, a smile stretched his mouth. Okay, little Layla. No benefits. I get it. But who's to say in a few months—or a few weeks—you won't change your mind?

  He heard the ring and then her hello as she picked up. "Hey, friend."

  Connect with N. Raines

  Thanks for taking the time to read Not the Stand In. Now that you've finished, please consider leaving an honest review here. Reviews not only help your fellow readers, but help an author's books gain visibility. Your honest review would be most appreciated.

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  N. Raines (who also writes as Nona Raines) is a former librarian who lives in upstate New York with her many pets. She's currently working on her next novel between walking the dog and shooing the cats off the laptop. In addition to her self-published titles, her erotic and contemporary romances are published with The Wild Rose Press and Loose Id. Her transgender romance His Kind of Woman was nominated for the 2014 DABWAHA sponsored by the Dear Author and Smart Bitches, Trashy Books review blogs. Her most recent work is the transgender romance Her Kind of Man and the New Adult romance No Promises.

  Kindle Titles by N. Raines

  Not the Hot Chick Book 1

  Not the Stand In

  Not the Friend with Benefits

  Not the Placeholder

  Not the Hot Chick: The Complete Digital Boxed Set (Books 1 - 4)

  No Promises (a contemporary New Adult romance)

  Writing as Nona Raines:

  One Good Man (M/F erotic romance)

  Take This Man (M/F erotic romance)

  Her Perfect Man (M/F erotic romance)

  Irresistible Impulse (F/F erotic short story)

  Uncollared (M/F BDSM romance novella)

  His Kind of Woman (a transgender romance)

  Read to Me (M/F erotic romance novella)

  Don't Let Go (M/F contemporary romance novella)

  Christmas Candie, Part of the Nicely Naughty 2 Christmas menage anthology

  Write to Me (M/F contemporary romance novella)

&
nbsp; Her Kind of Man (transgender romance, a follow up to His Kind of Woman)

  Dedication

  Once again, thanks to my awesome critique partner Denise. And many thanks to Sabrina, for her invaluable insights as a beta reader. Thanks as well to Chris for being my "technical advisor" on things Buffalonian. Any mistakes are strictly my own.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright 2016 by Nona Raines.

  Edited by K. DeGroot.

  Cover art by Diana Carlile.

  ISBN: 978-0-9906161-4-6 (ebook)

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  Table of Contents

  Contents

  Title Page

  Not the Stand In

  Connect with N. Raines

  Kindle Titles by N. Raines

  Dedication

  Copyright page