by Mj Fields
Out of my peripheral, I see him nod. Then he watches the girls play with his children.
“You love them,” he says.
“So Antoinette says.”
“You’re leaving if Franco returns?”
“He’ll return.”
“That doesn’t answer the question, Vincent.” He looks at me now.
I nod. “It will be time.”
“You’re family,” he says, looking back toward what is his family.
“I’ll be available if needed.”
“No, Vincent, not needed—wanted. As I said, you’re family.”
I don’t reply to what seems to be an invitation. After Franco assuming I was in love with Valentina, which is inaccurate, I let him believe it in hopes he would do the right thing and fight for his family, which I know he will.
I don’t do love. I do whatever it takes to survive.
Unable to sleep as I ponder my next move, I walk from the carriage house apartment, where I began to live in a way I never imagined, to the brick patio of the main house—the best view of the harbor.
I try to dream of what a life of my own will be like. But I’m not a dreamer. Therefore, I settle on the facts.
It will be nice to be on the waters, enjoying a worriless life.
I hear a door open in the distance and hope that someday that won’t put me immediately on guard. Then I hear a familiar voice.
“I’m fine, really. You know me; I can handle anything.” Paige sighs. “No, I’m honestly having a great time here with the girls. And I’m not concerned at all with finding a new job. If I can’t, I still have my job at FF. I didn’t officially quit. I just took all my vacation with all intentions of quitting when I use every bit of what’s coming to me.” She pauses. I’m sure she’s listening to the voice on the other end of the conversation. Then she remarks, “I’m not drunk!”
Like hell she isn’t. Has been for days.
“I promise to come home soon.” She pauses. “I told you, I’m fine. I promise.” Again, she listens. “It just sucks, you know. I’ve worked hard. I do whatever I am asked and go above and beyond in everything to prove myself.”
I’d like to test that theory, I think to myself, knowing it’s bullshit.
“Johnson said something that tipped me,” she continues then pauses again. “I don’t even want to think about it, let alone say it out loud.” Another pause. “I don’t think saying it will take the power of his words away.” She huffs. “Fine, he said, ‘You may be smart, you may know what you’re doing, but you lack the confidence to be in charge of anything more than douche.’ Then she said he was right.”
In a way, it feeds the hunger inside me to watch her type get knocked off their high horse. However, another part of me, the part that gets fucking hard at the thought of her voluptuous body, is now even more hungry to take what she has offered and leave a mark before leaving everything here behind.
I hear her walking closer as she ends her call. When her steps falter, I assume she sees me.
“Spying?” she huffs.
I turn and look at her.
Her hair is pulled up into a careless knot on top of her head, and a lavender sleep mask is pushed above her forehead, exposing a small scar at her hairline that I never noticed before. She’s dressed in a pair of white cotton, nearly see-through pajama shorts, and a cami with thin straps that matches the sleep mask.
No. Bra.
Huge. Tits.
Jesus. Christ.
She looks very different than normal.
I look down, expecting heels—she always has heels on—but she’s barefoot. I’m not a foot man, but fuck if they aren’t sexy, too. And her fucking toenails match, her mask, and her cami.
“You’re almost the perfect man, you know.”
At her comment, I look away from her feet and into her blue eyes.
“Mute, just like I like them.”
God, what a bitch.
I feel my cock start to soften.
“And stiiiiill nothing?” She rocks on her heels, waiting for me to reply. I’m enjoying the fact that she is beginning to squirm, which is a dick move after what I just overheard, but, well, I’m a dick.
She reaches up toward my mouth, and I jerk my head back.
“I was simply going to do this.” Before I can jump back, she moves forward and runs her fingers up and back down over my lips quickly. “Yep, they seem to move.”
“And yours never stop,” I tell her, annoyed that I let her touch me, and more annoyed that I’m not going soft anymore. I’m getting harder, fast. “I know a way to get you to shut up around me.”
I’m harsh, and for a split-second, I feel as if it was the wrong thing to say until she smirks.
“Duct tape?”
“My cock.”
To that, her jaw drops open.
I take the opportunity to fuck with her now by hooking my finger inside her mouth and pulling on her lower jaw, dragging it down a bit more. “No, it would be more like this.” The heat of her mouth is something I want to explore more of.
Desire flashes in her eyes.
“So, how about you sink down on those”—I pause before saying sexy—“knees of yours and get to sucking.”
She pulls her mouth away quickly, and then I watch as desire drains from her eyes, something else replacing it. I’m unsure if it’s anger or hurt, which makes no sense, none at all.
“You’ve begged to get fucked by me more than once.” I laugh at her. “But when the opportunity arises …”
She immediately lowers her eyes and fixates on the bulge in my pants.
“… you freeze. Explain.”
She turns her back to me and begins to step away.
I reach around her, splaying my hand across the softness of her waist, and pull her back hard against me. Her body tenses as I let my pinky run just beneath her waistband, moving it slowly from side to side as I lean down and whisper in her ear, “I won’t offer again.”
Chapter 4
Try
Paige
He’s mocking me. His pause before he could figure out how to say knees when he clearly isn’t appreciative of a woman who isn’t waif-sized causes an insecurity to arise, one I thought I buried while telling myself daily I love my body that bounces from a size twelve to sometimes, like now, an eighteen.
Him telling me I have huge tits felt like a compliment one second, then a jab the next.
Pressing his hand against a waist that isn’t in the best shape feels like a hidden joke.
The way he wants me to suck his dick … Is it because he thinks a girl like me would prefer a meal instead of a lay?
His cock is hard against my back, telling me that I’m being silly. Meanwhile he touches my abdomen, gliding a finger over my skin yet not moving any lower, which seems to be his way of asking for permission.
The pool of heat and wetness between my legs grants him that. He just doesn’t know it.
I close my eyes and try very hard to believe that a man like him would want me, and this isn’t the first time I’ve had to do it either.
In college, when I was at my heaviest, Warren Black asked me out.
He was every girls’ fantasy. Tall, dark, handsome, rich, and smart. He had it all. He did in high school, as well. He was my secret crush, for all four years. He was nice to me then. Never interested, but nice. I assumed that, because I changed so much about myself in college that he saw who I had always been and would be from that day forward. I worked my ass off during the summer so I could afford nice clothes from stores, not handmade. And with the new clothes came the desire to wear makeup, do my hair, and with all those things, even with the extra weight, I finally felt … beautiful.
After declining, Warren doesn’t let up. He asks me out every day for a week. When my girls, Laney, Mel, and Nikolette, see him approach me, they ask what was up with that. So, I tell them. With their encouragement, I agree to attend a fraternity party with him.
When I tell him, he smi
les and says, “Dress sexy for me.”
He picks me up in his red sports car, the one from his Instagram posts. I know it’s his high school graduation gift. He opens the door for me, kisses my cheek, and tells me that I will be the hottest woman there.
When we walk into the party, I notice many beautiful girls with his frat brothers, all full-sized, thick, curvy—whatever descriptive word you can use to describe a woman who would probably never be on a cover of Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition.
For a moment, I am shocked. Then, when I see the men treating them like they are actually happy they are there, I feel like maybe it’s just an old insecurity arising. It’s probably also that I know what is going down tonight is just that insecurity fueling nervous energy. I also know it will be the night I lose my virginity.
And I do.
When it’s over, I dress quickly as he lies on his side, smiling at me.
“What?” I ask him.
“You’re so fucking sexy. I always knew it, but now … damn.”
I’m glad he’s being playful. It makes what just happened a lot less awkward.
“Damn?” I joke.
“Paige Arnesen, you and I are gonna fuck up all the rules.” He stands up from the bed, fully naked.
“The rules?” I ask as I put my foot in my very first pair of Choos, bought on eBay of course.
“After this next part, you and I need to make plans for what’s next.”
“This part? The next?” I ask as he dresses quickly without answering.
He then takes my hand and leads me down a hallway. As we walk by his frat brothers’ rooms, I realize there is a lot of sex being had in this house. I suppose it’s normal. I mean, it is a frat house after all.
My hand still in his, he leads me down the stairway and past a room with the door ajar. I see a girl on her knees before one of his frat brothers.
I hear him say, “That. Keep doing that. Yeah, I’ll get hard for you, you sexy beast.”
Warren glances back at me as I am covering my mouth, because no way would I find it sexy or hot to be called a beast.
He winks. “You’re all beauty, no beast, Paige Arnesen.”
“Why, thank you, Warren Black.” I use his full name like he used mine.
When we are standing in front of a set of double doors, he stops and takes both my hands, facing me. He gives them a squeeze.
“This part sucks, I know, but I’m not going to just take the win, take you home, and forget about you, okay? We can work on what you’ve already clearly been working on, and then, well, maybe you and I can actually be a thing.”
I’m confused, but I don’t want to look like an idiot, so I just smile like one instead.
When I hear a cow bell sound, he drops my hands and turns toward the door.
When he slides it open, I see another girl getting off a set of scales in her bra and underwear.
“Next,” one of the guys in the room says.
“Paige, it’s you, babe,” he says, stretching his arm out in front of me. “After you.”
I step into the room as the girl hurries out, clothes in hand. That’s when I see a chart on the wall. One column has girls’ names, the next guys’, and then … a number.
When I see my name, his name, and a blank in the third column, I look at him, confused.
“The bigger, the better,” he whispers.
“Excuse me?” I ask, seeking clarification.
He leans in and whispers, “I’m going to make you my junior project. By this time next year, you’ll be in my bed all the damn time.”
“Come on, you big, beautiful thing; hop up on those scales and show us just how much woman Warren here can handle.”
I look back at Warren. “This is—”
“A cattle call,” the other guy answers for him.
“I don’t understand,” I tell Warren, not the asshole answering for him.
He looks at me, semi-shocked, yet he doesn’t answer. The other guy does.
“Oh, come on. It’s harmless. A win-win,” he jokes. “You get to fuck a guy you’d never have the chance with, and we get to fuck a girl we’d never admit to. A sexy, little … or in this case, big secret.”
I feel bile making its way up my throat, and my eyes prickle with tears of embarrassment.
I look at Warren and simply shake my head before I turn and walk out the door.
“Paige, wait!” he calls behind me as I hurry to the door.
“Let her go, Black. You lose this time,” the asshole says on a laugh.
As I walk down the sidewalk in the darkened night, tears freely flowing down my cheek, he pulls up beside me in his car. I don’t look toward him. I keep walking.
When I hear the car stop and a door shut, I walk faster.
“Paige, come on; you had to have known what tonight was.”
I try to sidestep him, but he grips my forearms and stops me.
“At least let me give you a ride back to your dorm.”
“Just leave me alone.” I yank my arms back.
“Look, I chose you because you are beautiful, not because you’re …” He pauses, trying to come up with a word.
I take the opportunity to walk past him and continue walking as fast as I can.
I know he is following me, and I don’t care. It doesn’t make me feel any better. In fact, it makes me feel worse.
How stupid can I be?
I sneak into my dorm so I don’t have to face my friends. Then I lie in bed, in the fetal position, crying silently then sobbing when my phone chimes.
I look at it.
He messaged.
-There’s blood on my sheets, Paige.
I have no idea if or how he expects me to even respond to him, so I don’t.
-Care to explain?
I become angry that he has the audacity to ask me to explain, so I don’t.
My phone rings for an hour, messages keep coming intermittently, and then there is a knock at my door.
I answer, thinking it’s one of the girls. At this point, I am so emotionally drained that, yes, I want to talk to one of them.
When I open the door, however, he is standing there.
I immediately try to shut it, but he sticks his foot out, preventing me from shutting the door all the way.
“Were you a fucking—”
“Just shut up!” I cut him off before the word virgin leaves his lips.
“You do realize how fucked up that is, right? How much pressure that puts on me? I don’t even know what to do now. Jesus, Paige,” He looks at me like I’m the crazy asshole, not him.
“Get out, don’t call, don’t message, and forget it.”
“Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?” he snaps back.
Then … Then I punch him in the eye.
“What the fuck? Are you crazy?” he asks, holding his hand to his eye.
“Get. Out.”
He does.
“Paige.” His voice, that accent, the heat of him all over my body, against mine, makes me tingle in excitement and doubt, so much doubt.
“Why?”
“Why?” He sounds confused.
I turn to look at him, to face him, to put distance between us. However, he doesn’t drop his hand from my body, gripping my hips. I’m unwilling, not wanting to move, but knowing I should I elaborate.
“Why do you want me on my knees?”
Gripping my hip harder, he takes my hand with his free one and places it on his erection. “Because you make me hard.” He grips his hand around mine and moves it up and down slowly. “Because you’ve wanted me to fuck you for years.”
My voice wavers as I ask, “Why now?”
He narrows his eyes, and in the darkness, I can’t see if they get darker with desire, but his voice is incredibly thick, his accent thicker, as he leans in centimeters from my ear and groans out, “Why not?” He releases my hand and moves his up my body, cupping my breast.
My grip on his covered cock tightens, and for the fir
st time in my life, my hand feels slight.
His lips are on my neck while he rubs his thumb back and forth across my nipple.
He smells incredible, and right now, nothing in my past and no worries about my future matter. Nothing.
“Paige?”
Nothing except being busted.
We both jump back. Him into the shadows, and me toward the sound of Melyssa’s voice.
“Hey.” I smile genuinely as I hurry toward her. “When did you get in?”
With a hug, she answers, “About half an hour ago. Sabato’s tucking the kids in. I went to look for you, and Valentina told me you were in bed.” She steps back and attempts to look around me. “Who was that?”
“What? No one,” I say a little too loudly.
She laughs. “Then I should get security, because I am pretty sure I just saw someone take off across the yard.”
I look back to where we had been moments ago. He is gone.
“Was it …?”
I roll my eyes. “I’ve hit on him twice; I told you that. I’m not trying to get shot down three times in a row.”
“Third time’s said to be the charm.”
“You know he’s not my type.”
She sighs. “Hot’s everyone’s type. Dickpickle isn’t. He’s not Warren, Paige.”
“I don’t play with Warren’s anymore.” I force a laugh.
“Not all tall, dark, handsome, and sexy men are Warren’s,” she winks.
I smile back. “Yeah, I know, but apparently, my friends got the good ones.”
“At least try to step outside your comfort zone, because you know”—she shrugs—“your comfort zone is kind of dangerous, too.”
“You mean average Joe.” Again, I joke because, well, because it’s easier to do that, than acknowledge I have shitty taste in men.
“Just know your worth.”
“I thought I did back then,” I tell her.
“I’m so sorry you went through that. I really wish you’d have let me slash his tires or something.” Mel scowls. “What he did to you was unforgivable, yet you—”
“I know, Mel,” I cut her off before she finishes. I have been down that rabbit hole already tonight; I’d prefer not to revisit the trip.
