I nod, understanding. There is still something I don’t understand, though. Why is Camille here?
“Camille here was worried about you,” Eric explains again. “She said she couldn’t continue with the training until she was sure you’re okay.”
“Seems like you’re good friends.” Dr. Anderson smiles. “We’ll give you a minute to talk.”
As soon as they’ve left the room, I look at Camille. I still don’t understand why she is here.
“I’m glad you’re awake now,” she says softly. “You scared me back there.”
“I thought you hated me.”
She bites her lower lip.
“You should go back with the others,” I tell her, looking away. “You want to win, don’t you? You really want to lose weight so you can have the life you once had? So you shouldn’t let me…”
“I was scared, so scared when I thought you might die.”
I snort. “I won’t…”
But the words die in my throat when I look at her and I realize she has tears in her eyes.
What the heck?
“I thought you were going to die, and I realized then what a horrible person I was for saying such mean things to you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I lied to you, Stacey. I don’t hate you. In fact, I really liked you. And I can’t stop thinking about what happened back in Sicily. But then each time I think about it, I feel uncomfortable and afraid. I’m already scorned because of my weight. I don’t want to be a lesbian, too. So I pushed my feelings away and told myself that if I ever saw you again, I’d avoid you. But you just wouldn’t stay away, so I had to say those things, and…” She wipes a tear. “Anyway, I don’t hate you, Stacey. And I don’t want to lose you again.”
Then she places her hand on my cheek, leans forward, and kisses me.
Chapter 6
Am I dreaming? Or maybe I’m actually dead and already in heaven, if heaven exists for people like me.
And yet, something tells me the pair of lips pressing against mine are real. They are soft and warm, after all, and the sensation is familiar, one I’ve dreamed about for months.
Camille is kissing me. She likes me.
She actually likes me.
I kiss her back as the realization sinks in, placing my own hand on her cheek. I taste her tongue, and while it doesn’t taste like wine, I still find it intoxicating, dizzying.
She pulls away, smiling at me. How I’ve missed her smile.
“You should rest now.” She runs her fingers through my hair. “We’ll talk again later.”
“Later,” I echo with a smile of my own, my chest swelling with joy and with warmth.
I can’t wait.
When Camille comes to my room after dinner, my first thought is to grab her and smother her with kisses, one for each day since I last saw her. I do not want to be accused of anything later on, though, even falsely, so I am more cautious. Patiently, I wait, sitting on my bed as we talk.
“So Wallace is your real last name, but Parker is the last name you used when you were a model?”
She nods.
“Wow. I didn’t even know you were a model.”
“I’m not exactly proud of it. I mean, look at how I am now.”
“What you are now doesn’t change how amazing you were in the past. And you still are amazing. Just in a different way.”
She smiles. “How do you do it? How do you make me feel so beautiful and so special?”
“But you are beautiful and you are special.” I hold her hand. “What people say doesn’t change what you are.”
“You don’t sound like you want to lose weight at all. Then why are you here?”
“As I said, my sister entered me, and my Dad kind of talked me into it. I wanted to make him proud, you see.”
“I know the feeling.”
“But now, I don’t care. I don’t care about anything else when I’m with you.”
I lift her hand to my lips, kissing it reverently, and in the next moment, our lips are colliding, our tongues entwined. My heart beats fast, heat and excitement flooding through my veins.
I want her.
I place her hand on my breast, encouraging her to touch me. And she does, cupping tentatively before boldly rubbing my nipple. I moan, and wanting her to do the same, I squeeze her breasts. They are as perfect as I remember.
My heart beats even faster, and I feel feverish. The room feels hot and my bra feels tight. I take off my clothes, and Camille does the same, both of us just in our comfy cotton panties, then we are back in the bed again, mouths, arms and legs entangled.
I take time to admire her body. Strange. I’ve never smiled while seeing my naked reflection in the mirror, but now, I am fascinated with each patch of her soft skin, with each curve and fold. I kiss and lick them, playfully biting at times, and she gasps and moans in response. Without knowing it, I find myself between her legs, staring at pink cotton, and after glancing up at her to silently ask for permission, I remove it, giving a gasp of my own as I stare at that beautiful mound between her legs, with not a single curl to obscure the view of her delicate skin.
Did she shave? Did she get a bikini wax? I hope that it’s the former because I can’t bear to think of someone else seeing what I’m seeing now.
I kiss her reverently, worshipping her, and with the tip of my tongue, I stroke that tiny nub of flesh which is peeking out to meet me. She trembles and I, too, shiver. I am wet and wanting and I discover she is too as I move lower. I dip a finger inside her, and then my tongue, tasting heaven. My tongue is like a slippery snake, each stroke sending Camille moaning and cursing and squirming. And then suddenly, she cries out and I taste more of her, her sweet nectar gushing out on my tongue. I lap it all up greedily as she trembles, and then I lift myself up to look at her, to admire her flushed cheeks and her half-lidded blue eyes.
She is a goddess, my goddess.
Although out of breath, Camille gets up and pushes me down, a mischievous grin on her face. She takes off my panties and straddles me, rubbing that hairless mound between her legs against my own curly patch. Then she reaches down to stroke me, her fingers strumming my sensitive nub like a guitar.
I reach an orgasm in record time, moaning and grabbing handfuls of the sheets. Withdrawing her hand, she lies down beside me and we pull the blanket up to cover ourselves before snuggling into each other’s arms.
“Still afraid?” I ask her in the darkness.
“A little,” she admits. “But then, it’s always scary when you give yourself to someone. After all, you never know if you’ll get it back.”
“You had a boyfriend before, didn’t you?”
“Luke,” she says, nodding. Her face falls. “He left me when he found out I was pregnant.”
“Then you lost the baby.”
She shudders at the memory. “That was the saddest time of my life.”
“Shh.” I hold her tighter. “That’s over now. I’m sorry I brought it up.”
She shakes her head. “How about you? Have you ever had a boyfriend?”
“I tried dating,” I confessed. “But then I found out the only reason guys were going out with me was because they wanted to know how it felt like to fuck someone flabby.”
“That’s mean.”
“The world is mean to people like us,” I agree. “Which is why we should stick together.”
“I don’t think we can stick together any more than we are doing now.”
I chuckle. We keep talking, this time of more important things, until we both fall asleep.
“Shit!”
We wake up to the sound of someone cursing in the doorway – Lisa, another contestant. As she runs off, I hear Camille curse as well.
“I should have locked the door,” she says.
“Shh. It’s not your fault.”
Camille is still frowning, though, when we are summoned by the producer, Mr. Grundel. Jon Fowler is in the room along with some other members of the
crew.
“Someone told us the two of you are in a relationship.” Mr. Grundel taps his fingers on the arm of his chair. “Is this true?”
“Yes,” I confess readily. I am not ashamed or afraid of anything.
“And this relationship is of a…sexual nature?”
I nod.
He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “I’m so sorry to hear that. You see, while that may draw attention, I don’t think…”
“I’m quitting,” I blurt out to the shock of everyone in the room. “You can kick me out of the show. Just let Camille stay and have her chance at winning.”
Mr. Grundel shrugged. “I’m not sure…”
“I’m quitting, too,” Camille says. “That’s allowed, right? It says in the contract that we can quit freely whenever we want to. So I’m quitting, too.” She looks at me. “There’s no point going on without Stacey. Besides, I don’t really want to lose weight, after all. If someone can love me when I’m like this, then I think I’ll be just fine. And I don’t care what people think about us. They’ve always hated us anyway. For the first time in my life, I’m going to do what makes me happy and not let anyone make me feel guilty for it.”
Grabbing my hand, Camille leads me out of the room. At first, I am too stunned to speak, just like everyone else, then I smile as I look at her.
How did I manage to get such an amazing woman for a partner?
Chapter 7
“So where are we going now?” I ask Camille.
She is driving the rental car, I’m in the passenger seat, our suitcases in the back.
Camille shrugs. “Actually, I quit my job, so I don’t know what to do with my life now. I figured once I lost weight, I’d try modeling again, since I still have some connections. But to hell with it. I can just find another job.”
“Are you sure you don’t really want to go back to modeling?”
“If it’s not for me, it’s not for me.”
I drop the subject. “I quit my job, too, actually. I didn’t like it anyway.”
“What was your job?”
“Something to do with computers.”
She gives me a look of surprise. “You’re a geek? I would never have guessed.”
“Why is it that you have to be a geek to understand computers?” I ask, mock-pouting.
She laughs. “Anyway, I think it’s cool, and I’m sure you’ll find a better job. For now, let’s not think about work. We’re supposed to be on vacation for five months, after all.”
“So what are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking since we’re on the West Coast, why don’t we go to Vegas? I haven’t been there in a while.”
“Alright,” I agree. “But only if we go to Tahoe, too. I’ve always wanted to go there since I watched ‘City of Angels’.”
“That can be arranged. I think we’re closer to Vegas, though, so let’s drop by there first.”
“Sure. No problem.”
After all the things Camille said and did for me, I’m willing to do anything she wants.
“Alright.” Camille grips the steering wheel. “Sin City, here we come.”
I’ve never been to Las Vegas before so I’m surprised by how lively and bright it is. The hotels on the Strip, all in a row, trying to outdo each other like a row of dishes in a buffet. Camille and I don’t try to go to all of them. I can’t handle walking too much, after all. We just book a room at one and visit a few others, watching shows, doing a bit of shopping, trying our luck at the gaming tables and slot machines, and of course, eating.
For our first meal, we tried out an all-you-can-eat buffet, which is like our way of kissing weight-loss goodbye. But this time, we’re eating at a sophisticated restaurant, Italian in honor of our first meeting. For the first half of the meal, everything goes well, but suddenly, Camille’s face becomes pale.
“What’s wrong?” I ask her.
She glances in the direction of another table. “That’s Luke, my ex.”
At once, I feel my anger simmer. So that’s the jerk who left Camille, broke her heart and ruined her life? He may be handsome, but he’s an asshole. Just look at him charming that waitress. And he has a girl with him, too, a petite brunette whose neckline is so low, everyone can get a glimpse of her breasts. Then again, if her neckline weren’t so low, no one would see them anyway.
“Let’s leave,” Camille begs.
I don’t want to retreat silently, but I do as Camille says, and we are halfway out when someone recognizes her.
“It is you, isn’t it? Camille Parker?” a woman calls out shamelessly.
“Camille?” Luke gets up from his table and approaches us, shock on his face as he looks at the woman he once knew.
“You know this woman?” the woman with Luke asks, having followed him.
“I…” He swallows.
Just as I thought. He doesn’t have balls.
“She used to be a model,” the woman who first spoke volunteers.
“No way.” Ms. Cleavage shakes her head. “That’s…”
“Impossible?” I ask her, chin up. “But she was. Why don’t you ask your boyfriend here? After all, he used to let her suck his dick back when she was as tiny as you.”
Camille squeezes my hand. “Stacey…”
But I’m not done yet. “Oh, he got her pregnant, too, then left her. She lost the baby, you know, and she was so devastated she ended up like this beauty you now see in front of you.” I look at Luke. “That’s right, mister, it’s all your fault, so don’t you dare look at her like she’s trash. You were the one who threw her away. And he’ll do the same to you, missy.” I look at his companion, then around the restaurant. “You people think you’re all so perfect, but one day, you’ll all be large and ugly while we’ll still be big and beautiful.”
Done with my speech, I lead Camille out of the restaurant, holding her hand until we get to our suite. There, I hold her in my arms on the bed as she cries, rocking her silently.
“I can’t believe you just did that,” she says, once she’s run out of tears.
“I’m just returning the favor. You stood by me back there in front of the producer, so I stood by you in front of that dickhead and all those pompous bitches. I’ll always stand by you.”
“I know.” She looks at me with a soft smile. “That’s why I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
We kiss, and after a while, she gets up, wiping her cheeks.
“I don’t want to sulk in here. Let’s go party.”
Chapter 8
The next few days are one big party.
We watch a concert, go to an arcade, visit museums, gamble, and eat, always going back to the suite to play around and cuddle after the fun.
Then it’s off to Lake Tahoe.
While I’ve never liked hiking or rafting or rock climbing, probably because those can kill me, I’ve always loved the outdoors, the views, the air, the serenity. And Lake Tahoe is as beautiful as I imagined, blue as the sky, and calm as the dawn of a summer day, fringed by towering, magnificent trees and with snow-capped mountains looming in the distance.
Beautiful.
And we can see most of it from the window of our cabin. It is small, but has large windows, a rich carpet, and charming furniture. It has a real fireplace, too, and a large hot tub, which Camille and I thoroughly enjoy, kissing as we run our fingers across each other’s wet skin.
One night, I decide to get daring. I know our options are limited in terms of positions, but I’ve done some research and learned some things we can still try.
At first, Camille is a bit reluctant, but after a few pleas accompanied with kisses, she goes down on her hands and knees on the bed, giving me a nice view of her bum and a glimpse of that exquisite mound between her legs, which are sheathed in black lace thigh-highs that we found in Vegas.
I am wearing the other half of the outfit – a red-trimmed black corset that is hanging low on my breasts. It is a little tight, but I don’t mind.
Kneeling behind Camille, I grind my hips against her bum, moaning as I savor the friction that ensues from the kneading of our bare skins. Reaching around, I touch her clit, rubbing the small nub of flesh until it swells nicely beneath my fingertips. At the same time, I pepper her back with kisses and play with one of her breasts, using my other hand, flicking her nipple, which also swells in response.
I feel her tremble beneath me. I hear her gasp. I know she is feeling good already, but I’m just warming up. Moving away, I playfully nip one of her soft butt cheeks and then reach for the strap-on I’ve purchased recently, another souvenir from Vegas.
I put it on, making sure it fits snugly before applying a generous amount of lube. Then I kneel behind Camille once again, dipping two lubed fingers inside her to prepare her some more.
She seems ready, though, already soaking wet, and the smell of that sweet nectar flowing out of her is making my own leak out, as well. I ignore it for now, though.
Right now, my job is to please the woman I love, and I have every intention of doing it well.
I give her a quick kiss then enter her slowly, not wanting to hurt her. To my relief, I don’t hear any whimpers, just gasps and moans as she shivers. The reaction makes me wish I have a cock just so I can experience what it feels like to be inside her, but I dismiss it. If having a cock means being stubborn and childish and self-centered, I’d rather not have one.
As I begin moving slowly, Camille moans louder, her knees quaking. I continue moving slowly, dragging out every thrust. Then I hear her whisper.
“Faster.”
I obey, jerking my hips as fast as I can and thinking only of Camille’s enjoyment to numb the pain coming from my legs. She moans even louder and soon, the moans turn into cries until finally, she gives one sharp shout as she throws her head back, tossing her hair into the air.
As her arms give way, I pull out, sit down and pause to catch my breath. Now, I know why sex burns calories, though I don’t really care about that right now. All I care about is Camille, and judging by how exhausted she is, I can tell she’s satisfied.
Hang Em' Up: A Bad Boy Sports Pregnancy Romance Page 45
