And then I haven’t even begun on the list of things my cock has perked up and noticed. Like the way her tongue peeks out and worries at the top corner of her lip when she smiles or laughs. I’ve never wanted to taste a tongue so badly in my life, but the thought of sucking that pink muscle into my mouth and letting her take mine in turn makes me so hard I’ve spent whole nights jumping between tossing and turning and ice cold showers.
It’s sick, I know, but there is just something about her swollen body that has captivated me, and I can’t bloody stop. After having that small taste of her in the kitchen, I’d been so hard I couldn’t stand up to stop her from leaving, and then after an hour’s worth of pacing, I’d given into temptation and stroked myself to one of the best releases I’d ever had.
The need to touch her and taste every inch of her delicate skin has become an obsession that I hate. An obsession I’m starting to hate her for. It’s wrong and unfair, but I can’t help it.
She’s done something to me; she must have.
“What do you think, Cameron?”
I look up from my plate and focus on them, only catching a glimpse of Shaw from the corner of my eye.
“I was telling Shaw that we should accept that invitation to the Larson’s garden party. Molly sent it over today, and I think it’s a fabulous way to introduce Ducky to everyone.”
I finally allow myself to look at her fully, and her captivating eyes are trained on me, a plea I don’t think she’s aware of blazing in their depths.
She obviously doesn’t want to go and doesn’t have the heart to refuse Mum but too bloody bad. If she wants to be a part of this world, she has to grow up and face everything that is thrown at her.
“I think that’s a brilliant idea, Mum.”
Her shoulders sag, and I restrain the urge to laugh when she looks back up at me with a bland expression I’m starting to resent. It’s as if she doesn’t see me, something I would have appreciated months ago but despise now.
It’s immature and obnoxious, but I want her to see me—even if it’s only to acknowledge the barbs I throw at her.
“She’ll fit right in with Molly since they’re both on the larger side and not very sophisticated.”
“Cameron! You apologize to Ducky right now young man!”
“Sorry Mum, but my bullshit quota is quite full for the day. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do if I’m going to be expected to raise my dead brother’s child. If it’s his, that is.”
I hear her gasp and the sound of Dad blustering at me, but I keep walking, determined not to show the shame blazing on my cheeks.
***
Shaw
As the acrid taste of embarrassment and a not so little amount of outrage fill my mouth, I can do nothing but sit quietly and surreptitiously wipe at the tears spilling from my eyes.
The barb has hit its mark. Very accurately, and I look down at myself and take in the spread of my thighs and the huge barrel that is my stomach. It’s so easy to see myself in a bad light right now, especially with the way Mom used to put me down about everything, but I refuse.
I’ve worked hard to get myself back to a healthy size—okay so maybe it’s not hard to eat every sweet treat my eyes encounter, but you know what I mean—and I absolutely refuse to let Cameron Bloody Stone make me feel shitty about doing what’s right for my baby.
I’m not crying for the insult, I’m crying because I’m right back in that horror movie, only this time I wasn’t prepared. The kitchen incident had seriously messed with my mojo.
Now I’ll have to start all over again and learn to show him the ‘I don’t give a lump’ side of myself.
“Ducky, dear…”
“Don’t worry about it, Marge. I’m pretty used to people saying shitty things because they’re shitty people. I promise I won’t go into depression over one silly comment. Now tell me about this Molly. I might as well get to know her if I’m going to be parking my ‘fat ass’ with hers all day,” I muse, giving them both a mischievous grin.
Rule number one: Deflect attention if you want to survive.
“That’s the spirit, Ducky!” Vic bellows, his blue eyes twinkling back at me. “Now have you seen the latest editions of Antiques and Oddities?”
I shake my head and allow him to dazzle me with his next project in the titillating world of antiques hunting and buying and totally let go of Cameron’s insults.
Too bad he can’t be a nice person. With his looks and a better personality, I’d bet an organ he’d be as attractive, if not more than, his sleazy brother ever was.
“Victor darling, that’s quite enough of that for now if you please. Ducky and I need to discuss the garden soiree, and we need to start planning ensembles.”
Oh no. I hate it when Marge goes all designer duds on me. Every time she buys me something new, Cameron spots it and smirks sardonically at me as if to say ‘See, I knew you were all about the money.’ I half expect to wake up one night with the lunatic trying to collect ‘samples’ from me like some version of the crazy Dr. Frankenstein.
“Uh Marge, could you maybe not go on an all-out spree this time? I have so many things in that room you guys call a closet that I’ll never get through them all before sprout makes an appearance. Can’t I just wear that nice purple thing you got me last week? It doesn’t make me look like a cow dressed in Clingfilm.”
Seriously, everything she gets me is “fitted” and by that I mean I’m covered fully, but everything is on display with the tight fit. Now I don’t know about other pregnant women, but having my ass and belly all out and proud while still trying to keep my two girls out of your face is not my idea of a confidence-boosting outfit.
“But Ducky, I saw this amazing baby blue St. Laurent yesterday, and the shop girl said they can resize it for your petite figure.”
“Er, firstly, though I adore you for saying it, there’s nothing petite about my behind. No, don’t start. I was a chub before I got pregnant, and I’ll be the same after. I like food and being alive more than I like looking good for the meatheads that are today’s modern man.”
“But Ducky—”
“Aaand secondly, I don’t want another dress. Please? I’m not really into the whole fashion thing, and it makes me feel like an imposter when I wear something I can’t even pronounce the name of.”
And I don’t want Victor Von Doom having anything else to say about me, I add silently.
“Oh alright. So let’s talk about this event, and then you should retire early. You’re looking pale to me.”
Twenty minutes later I’m showered, dressed in a long silk nightgown and in bed. Sleepless. With a huff, I reach over and flick on the light to get at the phone next to the bed, my hands shaking as I lift the handset from the cradle and punch in the numbers I’ve been avoiding for months.
“Hello?”
The voice is achingly familiar and sleep roughened, and it makes me long so much my eyes water and I have to stifle a hiccup of a sob.
“Alec?”
“Shawsie? Is that you, honey?”
“Yeah. It’s me.” I whisper, smiling when I hear a rustle and a feminine groan that tells me my brother is not the angel I keep telling myself he is. “You busy? I can call you back.”
“Naw, just a one and done babe, and she’s out like a light after I finished her off.”
“Gross Al, just gross,” I mutter with a smile that he hears and makes him chuckle softly.
“Talk to me, babe. I haven’t heard from you in three months and that tomb we gestated in together is worse than useless when it comes to answering her phone.”
I crack up at the usual reference to Gloria’s womb and spend a minute collecting myself before taking a deep breath and plunging ahead.
“I got into some trouble, Al. I lost the internship and my apartment and I had to move in with the zombie eater.”
There’s more rustling on the other end, and then I hear a door close and what sounds like the refrigerator opening and closing before
he answers.
“Where are you? I’ll come and get you.”
And this is why I’ve let myself be humbled. This is why I’d elected to move an ocean away. My brother is one mean-assed football playing law graduate, and he also happens to be my fiercest protector.
He’d drop his whole life on a dime if I needed him.
“Ah no. That would be a negative, Captain Kirk. I’m in England with my baby daddy’s family, and they’re taking good care of me.”
“You’re pregnant!”
Oh Lord.
“Yes,” I say in a croaking voice, squeezing my eyes shut, as he takes a long drawn out breath that lets me know what he’s thinking.
“Shaw.”
“I know, Al. I know, okay. I messed up and lost everything I’ve been working for. Mom already gave me the lecture about being young and dumb. I get it.”
“Why didn’t you call me, and why did you leave mom’s place?”
Oh, trust him to focus on that. Have I mentioned how much Alec despises our old uterus? Well, he does. A lot. Could have something to do with her never taking care of us, or the fact that he worked since the age of fourteen when she stopped feeding us regularly.
“Well, I didn’t so much leave as she kicked me out,” I mutter, picking at the bedspread and leaning back when I hear him grunt.
This is going to be a long conversation so I may as well get comfortable.
“She tossed you out? In your condition? That fucking—”
“Don’t worry about it, Al. Earl gave me a few dollars, and I went to Sister Fran. I’m good.”
I don’t tell him that I’d been sick or living at the shelter and subsisting on one meal a day, if I could keep it down, for a full month.
Sister Fran is great, but she’s just one person, and she has more charges to look after than just her favorite sometimes-believer.
“You find that son-of-a-bitch who knocked you up?”
“Yes. And no.” I sigh, biting my lip when he stays silent, waiting for me to continue. “He died. That’s why I couldn’t reach him.”
Nope. He’d avoided my calls those first months and then died, but I can’t tell Al that or the man will go nuts and be on the first plane out of the U.S.
“Shaw.”
“I’m fine, Al. I got in contact with his brother, and he came to get me. I’m doing better. The doctors are taking care of me and really, I love his family. They’re so kind, nothing like Gloria.”
I hear another snort, and this time he lets out a small laugh.
“Yeah, I can just imagine her face when she found out. That woman acts like babies are the plague or something.”
“Yup. So how are things? You still doing good?”
“Better than. I got a spot at one of the top firms, and I got to take the bar since I finished early. Just waiting on the results and then I should be golden.”
“Oh Al, I’m so happy for you,” I whisper.
“Thanks, babe. You sure you’re good? No one’s treating you bad or nothing?”
Oh, ever the protector.
“I’m perfect. Promise. Now go back to bed. I’ll call you in a few days and then I want a full report on the life of my amazing lawyer brother.”
Chapter Seven
Cam
As the line goes dead, I replace the phone and lean back with a vile curse that leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I’m not in the habit of listening to others’ phone conversations, but the minute I’d seen Shaw’s extension light blinking on the phone, I’d been helpless to stop myself.
Expecting her to call whatever loser boyfriend she has back at home, maybe to report about her progress and laugh about my family’s gullibility.
I am floored by the fact that she’s talking to her brother, a twin I’d known about but never paid much attention to since he’s away at school and seems to be keeping his head down and in his books.
The thing that’s throwing me is that she could have told her brother everything about my treatment of her, and he would have been over here and to the rescue like a shot.
Instead, she’s sugar coating everything to make it sound as if she’s having a great time, something I know to be untrue since I watch her more often than not and see that dull look in her eyes that tells me she’s not entirely happy.
Of course, she could just be plastering over the cracks with Alec so that she can stay here in the lap of luxury instead of going back to live in near poverty.
Maybe I’m being unfair and attaching another’s sin to her, but I can never forget the treachery that women are capable of, and no matter how much I want to forget it and allow myself to have a shot at Shaw and her magnificent, lust inducing body, I can’t allow myself to get soft.
If I do, I could be right back where I was three years ago, and that is not an option for me. I’d barely survived that experience; I won’t open myself up to more heartbreak.
“You realize you’re being a right wanker.”
I look up from my desk to see Dad lounging in the doorway, his hair disheveled—as always—from hours spent pouring over his books and catalogues.
Dad is a classic case of the lord of the manner. The oddly eccentric gent who cares more about his leisure pursuits than business or money. To be fair, we have so much of the stuff that I could sell the company and still leave my great-grandchildren a tidy sum, so the fact that he’d told me to take the helm or let him sell ten years ago isn’t a black spot against him.
He just doesn’t have the desire to rule and nurture a business and I do, so I’d taken it up and turned it into my own personal toy. I love wheeling and dealing. The thrill of acquisition is my greatest pleasure and something that kept me from going mad after—
“Cam, lad.”
“Sorry, got lost there for a minute,” I say, waving at the chairs by the hearth and joining him with two snifters of Scotland’s finest. “You here to chew me out as per orders from her majesty?”
“Not hardly. Just wanted to make sure you know what you’re doing. That girl is not what you think, lad, and we both know it,” he says, stretching his legs out toward the fire and sighing at the heat.
“Maybe. Maybe not. I can’t forget that she had a chance to prove her case and refused it.”
“You can’t tell me you were okay with having some quack shove a foot long needle into her and her unborn child. It’s barbaric and completely unnecessary. At worst she’s lying, which yes, I won’t deny could be the case. But just look at what her arrival has done for Margie. The woman stopped crying into her pillow at night. I can tell you I am just grateful that I didn’t have to watch my wife go batty with grief.”
That’s Dad. The man adores Mum to the point of obsession, and he makes no bones about loving her even more than his precious Louis the Fourth collectables. I’d always wanted a love that strong until I’d been shown the error of putting that much of myself into a woman.
Treacherous creatures the lot.
Except Mum, but that goes without saying.
“Just don’t be so…brutal is all I’m asking. She’s not in a condition to be upset, and your mother gets so unhappy I end up cuddling my bleeding pillow. Give your old man a break won’t you. Some of us like having a soft, happy woman.”
“Unnecessary.”
He laughs at my grimace and raises his glass.
“That episode with Letitia shouldn’t color your every move. She hoodwinked us all, and we’re lucky to be rid of her. Don’t let your bitterness push away something that has the power to make us all happy, Cam. Please.”
I snort and sip my drink, staring into the flames but seeing Lettie’s face the day I caught her and Rob playing tonsil hockey. Worst day of my life finding my very pregnant fiancée sucking the lips off of my brother.
And then I’d discovered something worse, worse even than having been betrayed by my own flesh and blood and I’d sworn never to put myself in that position.
Dammit.
I wish I could do what Dad wants and
trust Shaw, really I do. But I can’t because I know that the moment I do, I will do everything in my power to be over and inside her and that would just be wrong.
I’m going to have to do something about the constant arousal though before I do something that I’ll regret.
“Well, I think I’ll go out for the evening,” I say, making up my mind and standing with a weary stretch.
Dad gives me a knowing look and shakes his head with a sigh.
“You’re not going to get what you’re looking for, lad, but go ahead and fool yourself if you prefer. Just don’t do anything that will make matters worse for you. That hole you’re digging is getting too deep for you to crawl out of unscathed.”
“Goodnight, Dad.”
“Night, lad. Tell Sophie I say hello, and that she needs to find a man who’ll marry her.”
I ignore his laughter and make my way outside and to my car, the hair at my nape rising uncomfortably. Sophie has been my go-to since the days of chaos when I’d been trying to shake my anger and hurt.
She’s not serious about me, and I’m not anywhere near serious about her, but she provides me with something I need, release, and that’s good enough for me.
Especially now when no amount of self-pleasuring will take care of the need I have for that infernal woman.
Chapter Eight
Shaw
This is awful. Horrible. A disaster of nightmarish proportions, and all I can do about it is plaster a smile on my face and pretend that I don’t hear, see, or feel the veiled comments flying my way.
No one knows who I am, save for my closeness with the Stones and the fact that I’m living in their home. They’ve been speculating since I walked in, my belly preceding me, and haven’t stopped since.
Nothing is said in front of Marge, of course, and the dear darling is flitting around the room in her element, taking great pleasure in avoiding the subtle questions and the outright curiosity.
We’d agreed not to tell anyone that Robert is the father of my child because as she put it, it’s none of their bloody business, and also she doesn’t want me subjected to their brand of concern.
CALLIE (The Naughty Ones Book 1) Page 16
