My mouth and body process her answer before my head does, and though my daughter is next to us, I don’t hold back. And neither does she, wrapping her hands around my neck and pulling me tightly into her body. One hand gently tugs her ponytail, and the other grips her ass. I can’t get her close enough. Our tongues battle as our bodies grind into each other. And in between each breath, she gasps, “Yes”—over and over again. It’s damn beautiful, basically perfect, until the next word comes – “No.” Her hand finds my chest, forcing me back. “No,” she whispers again.
“Don’t worry about Tate,” I say, pulling her back into my arms.
“It’s not that.”
“Because you’re at work?”
“No,” she says, stepping away from me.
“Then what?”
She holds up her hand. “It’s just no!” Then she disappears out the door.
*
Nothing like having a naked woman bent over your office desk, panties at her ankles, her tits pressed against the wood, her ass full and round. Angel’s always down for anything, which is most definitely a good quality in a woman. “You can have me any way you want me,” she breathes out, taking the condom from me and ripping it open with her teeth. Tugging her hair slightly, she cries, “Fuck me. I want you to fuck me so hard. Then I want . . .”
She just keeps talking. Damn, shut up! Did she always talk so much? Dirty talk shouldn’t be a damn dissertation. Hard as a rock, I know how to shut her up. “First, suck me off.” She slithers off the table and falls to her knees, not wasting a second before taking me all the way to the back of her throat.
What was I thinking asking Campbell to dinner? Kissing her? I don’t need that shit. This is what I need. Sex without strings. The fact is, I’m a happier man when I have sex regularly, and not with myself. And Angel is always good for that. She’s my go-to-girl when I need to fuck—hard. We understand each other—at least until she started acting like she was on the casting couch in a porn studio. But her mouth is busy now. I give her a little warning tap that I’m getting close.
My office door suddenly opens. “Oh, my God!” Campbell cries, and I turn around just in time to see her slam the door.
Normally, a guy loves to hear those words when he’s balls deep and seconds away from blowing his load. But not this time. I curse under my breath and quickly yank my pants up. It’s time for damage control.
“Who’s that?” Angel asks.
“A student,” I say, zipping up my pants and tossing the unused condom in the trash. “Get dressed.”
I head out to the parking lot, figuring Campbell is running for the hills by now. Only she’s not there, but her car still is. Rubbing the stubble on my face, I go back inside. She just saw my naked ass thrusting into some other woman’s mouth and didn’t drive off? That makes no sense.
“Does she make you happy?” Campbell asks me from behind.
Whipping around, I find her leaning against the doorway into the gym. “Who?” I ask, and she points towards my office. “Angel?” I know I sound like an idiot, but all the blood that should be in my brain is in my dick. Plus, I just ran after Campbell expecting her to smack the shit out of me, and now she’s concerned about my happiness. Complete mind fuck.
“Does she make you happy? Is she good to Tate?”
“Angel doesn’t know Tate,” I say, and her eyes get huge. “That was just . . .” Now, I know like a hundred different words for sex, but can’t bring myself to say any of them with her innocent blue eyes staring at me.
She suddenly starts laughing—really laughing. Okay, this woman might seriously be crazy. Does she not realize she’s supposed to be threatening to rip my balls off right now? “I’m sorry,” she says in between laughs. “I’m so stupid.”
“Campbell?”
“No,” she says, trying to control laughter. “I practiced this whole speech on the way over here about what happened between us earlier today. I had this whole thing planned out. I’m such a moron. I thought you kissing me meant something.”
Like I said, she’s talking in between laughs, so I know she’s not trying to hurt me, but she just took me to my knees with those words.
“Stone, I’m leaving,” Angel says, walking up to us.
Campbell actually blushes. “Sorry I interrupted before.”
Angel raises an eyebrow to me. I don’t get it, either. “No worries,” she says, giving my arm a little rub before leaving. “Call me.”
I really need to shower. The fact that I’m talking to one woman with another woman’s lipstick on my dick has not escaped me. “I’d like to hear the speech you planned out,” I say.
“No point now,” Campbell says. “It was a bunch of silly stuff about feelings—which obviously our kiss wasn’t about.”
“You seem to think you know what it was about for me,” I say. “I’d like to hear what it was about for you, because I don’t have a damn clue.”
Her face turns serious, her eyes darken just slightly and her posture stiffens. “Well, it’s obvious that you were just horny. When I didn’t spread my legs for you, you found someone who would.”
“That’s what you think?”
“What else am I supposed to think?” she says, her forehead wrinkling up. “You practically dry hump me against the wall, then a few hours later, I find you with your dick in another woman’s mouth.”
“And so that makes you think what?”
“It just surprised me, although I’m not sure why,” she says. “I know a lot of MMA fighters have that same reputation. But I didn’t think you were that type of guy.”
She cuts deep without even trying. “The type that needs sex?” She just rolls her eyes at me. “Look, Angel and I go way back. With Tate, I haven’t had time for a relationship. It’s just sex and . . .”
“You don’t have to explain it to me.”
“I need to.” I reach out to take her hand, but simply run my fingers along the smooth skin of her ring finger. “What if I told you that kissing you did mean something?”
The fire in her eyes quiets down. “Then I’d be sad and disappointed in what I just walked in on.”
It’s like I’m trapped in purgatory. She’s either okay with the Angel thing or pissed because I admit I have feelings, but either way I don’t get to heaven—her. “I thought you weren’t interested. You turned me down for dinner and stopped our kiss.”
“And that hurt you?”
I’ve gone hundreds of rounds in the cage, and none of that hurts as bad as the thought of not getting a shot with Campbell, but I can’t admit that to her. I’m barely capable of admitting that to myself. “It made my dick hurt,” I joke, earning me an elbow to my stomach along with another laugh.
“My guess is, it still does.” The grimace on my face lets her know she’s right—blue balls hurt. “Serves you right.”
“I would’ve never been with her if you . . .”
“If I’d what? Banged you at my place of employment with your daughter two feet away? And it’s my fault you had your dick rammed down her throat?”
“I have a better question. Why do you care where my dick was?” I ask. Her eyes narrow, and I think smoke is coming out of her ears, but she doesn’t deny that she cares. Pulling her into a dark corner, I say, “You still didn’t tell me what today meant to you.”
“Fine,” she says, throwing her arms up. “The way you kissed me this morning made me feel special, but now I feel . . .”
She doesn’t need to finish the sentence. I already know I made her feel unimportant and cheap, but nothing could be further from the truth. “So why’d you pull away?”
“I can’t, Stone,” she whispers. I let my hands roam the curves of her body. If this is the last time I get to touch her, I want to remember every inch. But then her eyes blaze, and she steps back. “You don’t get to touch me while you’ve still got her spit all over your dick.”
She’s doing a damn good job at fighting me, but I’m a damn good fighter. “Don’t us
e that as an excuse, you were giving me mixed signals before you walked in on me and Angel.”
“Well, you just helped me clear that confusion right up,” she says, giving me a little evil grin.
And dammit, she’s right. I just gave her the perfect excuse not to get involved with me. And a few years ago, I’d have given her that same advice—stay clear. But I’m not the same guy anymore. Angel and I have an understanding. No one gets hurt. “I’m not a bad man,” I say. “Having a fuck buddy doesn’t make me a bad guy.”
“Maybe not,” she says. “But it might make you a man I don’t want to be involved with.”
“Fair enough,” I say, not letting on how fucking disappointed I am. And maybe I’m crazy, but she looks sad, too.
“Besides, you and I are very different,” she says. My insecurities raging, I step away from her. “Stone,” she says, grabbing my arm. “You’re misunderstanding.”
“Think I got it. You’re too good for an ex-fighter, single dad, who teaches people to bash heads for a living.”
“No. That’s not it all,” she says, rubbing my arm. “I don’t think you’re a bad guy. I think you’re a good man.”
And for some damn reason, that means a whole hell of a lot to me. “Even with what you just saw?”
She nods. “I see you with Tate, with your students. You work hard and love even harder.” She blushes a little. “That came out wrong.”
I chuckle. “I know what you meant.”
We stare at each other for a few seconds. My eyes fix on her mouth as her tongue glides across her bottom lip before subtly biting it. “I should go,” she says, motioning towards the door.
I place my hand on the wall by her head, playfully blocking her escape. “You’re giving me mixed messages again, Campbell.”
She takes a deep breath. “I meant what I said. I think you’re a good man. It’s me. I’m . . .”
“Seriously, you’re going to give me the it’s me, not you speech?”
She ducks under my arm then looks me right in the eyes, her blue ones tough as nails. “I’m not a good person, Stone. You should stay away from me.”
CHAPTER THREE
CAMPBELL
When I was fifteen, my life was pretty charmed. I think any teenage girl would have thought so. Maybe it was karma’s way of paying me back for the crappy start I had in life. Either way, I was happy to take it.
I remember one day opening up the door to the closet I shared with my cousin, Maxi. We were the same age, so we shared everything. Well, Maxi shared my stuff. I didn’t mind, though. Maxi shared her whole family with me. The least I could do was share my Lily Vernon bags.
I’d lived with her family for as long as I could remember. That’s the crappy start I was talking about. Apparently, my entrance into this world was something out of a tragic romance, or so I liked to think. No one really talked about it much. No one ever really wants to talk about teenage pregnancy, I guess. My family considers it a dark mark.
But I asked questions of my Aunt Marcie over the years. Basically, she told me my mom had me at seventeen, her freshman year in college. For knocking up my mom, my father’s parents disowned him—and by extension, me—and if that wasn’t bad enough, he was killed in a car accident before my mother even gave birth to me. Told you, I rival a Shakespearean play.
My mother tried to raise me, but with everything that happened, she became chronically depressed and wasn’t able. When I was really young, Aunt Marcie decided to bring me to her house, and it seemed like a great fit at the time because Maxi and I were so close in age.
So after a shitty start, things turned out pretty well in my teen years. When I was a freshman in high school, I had a steady boyfriend, a senior. We were nominated for homecoming court. No other freshman girls were nominated. I was popular. It was a huge deal, and my life seemed as close to perfect as it could be.
Back then, my biggest worry was what to wear for homecoming week at school—which brings me back to my closet. I remember holding up a Lily Pulitzer dress, wondering if it was too short. I wished my mom was around to help me decide, but I knew she was at least thinking of me. She’s the one who bought me the dress, along with a whole bunch of other designer stuff in my closet.
Though I hardly ever saw her, I knew my mom was doing the best she could. I used to see her a lot more, but she moved a couple hours away when I was around eight. So she sent me stuff all the time. That was her way of showing me love—at least, that’s what my Aunt Marcie’s love languages book said. Regardless, I had the best wardrobe in my high school, and Maxi benefited from it, too. There was no use dwelling on what I didn’t have. My mom was sick. Back then, and still today, some people didn’t think depression was a “real” illness, but I knew it was.
I got cool clothes from my mom, and also her blonde hair and fair skin. Everyone always said I looked exactly like her except for the eyes. Hers are brown, and mine are very blue. I figured they must be my dad’s eyes, but I didn’t know. I’d never even seen a picture of him.
From time to time, I asked to see a picture, but my aunt didn’t have any. When I asked my mother for one, she would just cry, so I stopped asking. It would’ve been nice to know my father’s full name. My mother gave me her last name, not his. I sometimes thought about tracking down my birth certificate, but I never got around to it. It always seemed a worry for another day.
I chose to wear the Lily Pulitzer dress that day. I didn’t have much time to debate, not with my boyfriend picking me up for school in a few minutes, and still needing to grab a quick bite of breakfast. Looking picture perfect, I turned towards the kitchen, but I didn’t make it inside. Aunt Marcie and Maxi were talking in there, and Maxi’s voice was full of tears.
Sometimes they needed mother-daughter time. I was jealous of it, but I understood. I started back to my room, but stopped when I heard my name. “Why does Campbell get everything?” Maxi asked, sobbing. “She’s little Miss Perfect all the time. Honor roll, president of everything, awards, never has a pimple, perfect boyfriend, and now homecoming queen.”
What was she talking about? I thought she was always happy for me. I was thrilled for her when she got the lead in the school musical. I sat front row and brought her flowers. And I always listened to her practice and was positive. She’s a terrific singer and dancer. I could never carry a tune to save my life. Why wasn’t she happy for me? What was going on?
“All the boys fawn over her,” Maxi cried. “No boy has even held my hand. You know she makes out with her boyfriend every day after school! And it’s full-on swapping spit and tongue wrestling. Not just pecks. They go park . . .”
How dare she! I told her that in confidence. He was my first kiss, and that’s all we’ve done anyway.
“She even told me he tries to reach under her shirt.”
That little brat! I also told her I have every intention of waiting to have sex until I’m married because I don’t want to end up like my mother. What about that, Maxi? Why don’t you share that with Aunt Marcie!
“Well, I’ll definitely talk to her about all that,” Aunt Marcie said.
“You baby her so much. Just because of her father. Bet she wouldn’t be so high and mighty if she knew the truth.”
Truth? What was she talking about? Before I could think on it, I heard the unmistakable sound of my aunt’s hand slapping against flesh, and the next sound was Maxi crying out in pain. Part of me felt Maxi got what she deserved for running her mouth about me, but another part wondered what truth they were discussing.
Whatever it was, it must be horrible. My aunt had never raised a hand to either of us. Something told me the life I knew would soon be broken, shattered. Instinctively, I knew I’d never be the same Campbell.
“Don’t you ever breathe another word of that in this house. Do you understand me?” my aunt snapped. “You aren’t supposed to know. You shouldn’t have been eavesdropping on my phone calls!”
If Maxi answered, I didn’t hear it because a car h
orn beeped loudly outside. My boyfriend had pulled up to take me and Maxi to school. I tried to compose myself as I walked to the kitchen to fetch my book bag.
“Good morning, Campbell,” my aunt said brightly. “You look adorable.”
My eyes flashed to the palm print on Maxi’s face, the tears in her eyes. Five minutes ago, I would’ve rushed to her side, but not anymore—not after I knew how she really felt about me. I saw Maxi throw on my Coach sunglasses. I’d been letting her wear them the past few weeks since my mother sent me a Tiffany pair.
“I need a copy of my birth certificate,” I told my aunt.
“Whatever for?” my aunt asked.
“I’d like to know my father’s last name.”
It was obvious that I’d overheard their conversation, and my aunt’s nasty look to her daughter didn’t do anything to conceal it. “I’m not sure I have a copy,” she said.
“I’ll need it when I apply for college,” I said.
“Well, we’ll worry about that in a few years then.”
That wasn’t good enough. I knew what I’d be doing this afternoon, and it didn’t have anything to do with tongue wrestling. Faking a smile, I made my way towards the door. “Okay, see you after school.”
“Come straight home,” my aunt told us. “No detours or stops.”
“Sure,” I lied, and it came very easily. If looks could kill, I just committed my first felony.
The car horn beeped again. “Got to run.”
“Me, too,” Maxi said, scarfing down her juice.
We headed outside, and I closed the front door behind us. I stopped Maxi before she took another step towards the car. “Take the bus,” I told her.
“But I ride with you and . . .”
“Not today,” I said, staring her down.
“But I missed the bus already.”
“Then walk. I don’t give a crap either way,” I said. “And take off my sunglasses, you little snake.”
CHAPTER FOUR
STONE
Campbell didn’t show up for her regular class last week. And it’s five minutes past the time for tonight’s class to start, but she’s still not here. It’s been almost a week since I’ve seen her. Serves me right for my little display with Angel, I guess. If that were the reason Campbell was avoiding me, I could understand, but her reason was that she’s not good enough for me. That, I do not understand. I get the class started, situating the women so that no one is standing in Campbell’s spot. When the door opens and slams shut, my heart misses a few beats.
Layers of Her Page 3
