Girl-Nerds Like it Longer (Erotic Romance) Book 4
Page 7
Clayton had that ability about him.
I turned and left.
The scene was making feel sick again already.
-14-
When I got home, I put my phone back on. There were seven text messages and about a trillion missed calls. Seventy percent were from Clayton. The other thirty were from Mandi.
I texted Mandi and told her I was fine.
I called Clayton.
"Layla, where the fuck have you been? I was worried sick! Some kids at the school said Camila—"
"Clay, I have...something to tell you..."
"What?"
I felt bad about what I'd done. And I knew I needed to come clean on it. Camila had made it clear what her intentions were. And Clayton's sexual "needs" were things I would've come to discover anyway if he'd ever wanted to tell me about them.
But now I knew it all already. I sort of felt like I'd hacked into his life. And if there's one thing geeks don't do to fellow geeks, it's hack into their private files.
"I...I met with Camila today."
"Oh."
My skin went cold, and it wasn't the almost-freezing temperature outside.
"Clay?"
"Yeah."
"I'm sorry. I..."
"What did you...um...talk about?"
"You."
"I see...and..."
"She showed me the videos."
He cleared his throat. "She did?"
"Look, Clay, if you wanna be—"
"Layla, I need to come over. Or you should come over here. But we can't do this on the phone."
"Clayton, I just wanna say that if you love her—"
"I don't love her! She used me! She's a manipulative bitch." No argument there. "Layla, please, come over..."
"I don't like your dorm room. It smells of socks."
"And your room smells of overheated computers."
"But that's why you like me, isn't it?"
"I a lot more than just 'like' you, babe."
"But we do need to talk, Clay. My meeting with the she-devil got me thinking about...stuff."
"Now you have me nervous."
"Just come over. My place. Please."
There was no kiss between us when he arrived. There's something about seeing your boyfriend fucking another girl—another woman—in the butt, or munching her kitty, that turns the romance off very quickly. Even if that girl was before you, or after you. Or whatever.
He sat on my bed. This time I was the one who sat on the chair.
"You're not sitting next to me?" he asked.
I shook my head.
"You look like you've been through a war."
"She got me drunk. And then I hurled. And then... Never mind."
"Then what?"
"Then she told me her master plan to take you back to her."
"And what plan is that?"
"To destroy me? I don't know. She's pretty...psycho."
He turned his head. "She's just...different." The statement was wistful, as if he were speaking about some normal human being!
Blinded by love was one phrase I thought of. Are you FUCKING CRAZY? was another.
"Er, I'm sorry, what?" I said.
"Nothing. Nothing..."
"No, spit it out."
He sat forward. "Layla, it's nothing. She's just...been through a lot—"
"You still love her, don't you?"
"No, I don't! I..." He ran his hand through his hair. "Look, what about this other guy? I mean, don't you feel anything for him?"
I shifted in my chair. Shrugged.
"See? You can't just forget your old flames when they're gone—"
"So you admit she's a flame?"
"Layla, don't analyze the semantics with me."
"Just tell me!"
"Of course she's an old flame. We were together for years! And she was with me when I was so young and..."
"And you fucked her up the ass so she's such a cool chick?"
"Low blow."
"I'm sorry. I was just a little... Sorry, that was a low blow. Clayton...you told her endlessly that you loved her more than me—"
"Layla, you left me! I tried to talk to you, to fix things up with you. I chased you for months! You avoided me. You started wearing those sexy clothes and going to parties. You then went off with another man! I was still single then!"
I put my hand up. "OK, point taken."
"No, point not taken. I have a little more to say. It had been months since you and I had been together! My heart was broken. But what was I supposed to do, mope around forever? So, if the woman I was with then asked me if I loved her more than my ex-girlfriend, of course I would say yes. I mean, I know it's weird to see it now. But you must understand that a video shows now what happened then. That's a 'then' video, Layla. Not a 'now' fact."
"Like I said, point taken. I'm a nerd, remember? It doesn't take a lot of explaining to have me understand things."
"I just wanted to say it."
"Damn it. Point. Taken!"
"Layla, if we don't move forward, we'll never be able to let go of our past."
"Clay, the problem is not that. The problem is...I'm no match for her. She said she's gonna fight for you!"
"So? Let her."
"If I knew you felt nothing for her, I wouldn't be worried."
He didn't answer.
"Clay, if Nathan came knocking on the door here now, and if he knocked here every day, how would you feel?"
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it. "I guess...if I knew you felt nothing for him...then I'd feel OK."
"And if I told you I didn't feel nothing?"
He ran a hand down his face. "Then...I see your point."
"Right. Now, look, Clayton, what I'm about to tell you is for you to think on yourself. Pretend I'm just 'one of the guys' or something—"
"You'll never be just 'one of the guys' to me."
"Just try! There's something I want to tell you about your Camila friend. She'll hurt you, babe. I'm telling you this for your own good. She's conniving—"
"I know that."
"—and manipulative—"
"I know that, too."
"—and she'll hurt you!" My tears were welling up now.
Suddenly it had all changed. Suddenly, I was not worried for me or for my own broken heart, suddenly I was worried for his.
It even crossed my mind that, if he really loved this femme fatale, that...he should be with her.
Because I only wanted him to be with the person he truly loved. Even if that person was a skunk-ass ho.
Because I wanted him to be happy. No matter how sad that might make me feel.
I felt I was onto something...
I parked it on my internal TO DO list as something to think on later.
"So, what now?" I asked.
He shrugged. "What do you mean what now? Nothing changes. We're—"
"Clay, I know this is my fault. I know it. But...after seeing you sticking it... Well, everything's changed."
"Oh, pahlease! Are you kidding me? You also fucked someone else when we were apart—"
"I know! And if you saw me fucking him you'd feel the same!"
Then an idea came to me...
"Clay?"
"What?"
"I want you to see me...having sex—"
He started waving his hands in the air! "No ways! No ways!! Look, Layla, you chose to go over there to her place. You chose to see those videos—"
"I never chose to see them!"
"What, she tied you down?"
"No... No, OK, fine, I chose it, sort of."
"I do not want to see you screwing another man! It'll change you in my eyes forever!"
I bowed my head.
"That's the thing, isn't it?" he said. "In your eyes, I'll never be the same guy again, will I?"
I shook my eyes. Water brimmed in them. "I'm so sorry, Clay."
"No, no... I should've never gone back to her after you. I should've known she was trouble."
 
; "But you also loved her, didn't you?"
He looked up at me, shrugged. "I thought I did."
"Thinking you love someone is the same as actually loving them. If you think you're looking at green when you're actually looking at red it still doesn't change your perception of it. The perception is the same."
"You're such a geek, Layla."
"Look, I fucked up! And now I know...about this other side of you. You're right that I won't look at you the same and I even have some questions about your...desires...that one day maybe I'll dredge up the courage to ask you. But, at the very least, I understand you better. I understand that you were with a bad-ass woman who you felt—maybe even still feel—something strongly for. And, I guess, for her to have been with you for so long, I guess she also felt something for you..."
"You're not helping."
"I want you to see it, Clay. I want you to understand how insecure I was back then. I want you to appreciate how, with Nathan, it was all sex. And nothing more. But I also want you to understand that, somehow, there had been a small spark there between us. And it doesn't mean you and I don't have a spark. It just means that I have more baggage with me this time round."
"For someone who gained a scholarship to the University of England for doing whatever it is you did, you sure talk a lot of illogical bullshit."
His statement hurt me at the chest. I got up and sat next to him on the bed. "You don't have to watch it if you don't want to. And I wish...I'd never seen you with her."
Then the tears came through.
"Ask me what you want to ask me about what you saw there," he said. "Ask me so you understand it."
"I guess...the biggest thing is... Clayton, I need you to answer honestly. Please, no bullshit. When I saw you fucking her... Do you feel anything for her still?"
He cleared his throat. "Honest answer?"
"Yes."
"And you won't judge me if I'm straight with you?"
"I'll do my best."
"Yes, deep down...I suppose I do a little."
My palms broke out in a sweat.
"But I feel more for you," he said. "And that's what counts, doesn't it?"
I was afraid. She had declared war. And I felt like I would lose that war. Worst of all, I had to ask myself: Was Clayton really worth going to war for?
"I need you to watch that video, Clayton."
I needed him to do it so that I could see how he'd hold up afterwards. I needed to know if he'd still...love...or like...me afterwards.
Because I still liked him.
I was actually starting to feel, on a whole new level, that I was, for the first time, starting to truly and honestly maybe even love him.
Real love. Not Disney love. Not puppy love. But the kind of love where I would be willing to let someone go, just so that he could be happy.
The kind of love...where someone else's happiness becomes more important than your own.
I needed to know if he still wanted to be with me, even after seeing a male version of Camila rip off my dress and fuck me against a kitchen counter. Even after seeing me let the man handcuff me and finger me up the ass.
Even after all that. After he knew my deepest secrets, would he still want to be with me?
Like I still wanted to be with him?
"Clayton?"
"Yes."
"The video. Please. Do it for me."
"Layla, I'm a guy. If I watch porn...I'm gonna get horny. And...when you and I have sex again, well, I don't want it to be just because we're horny. I want it to mean something."
"Then we won't have sex after."
"I might need a hand-job then, otherwise I know I'll have to give myself one."
"I can give you a hand-job after, no problem."
"I love you, Layla. I just want to say it for the record. And I don't need you to say it back because I know you're not a hundred percent sure of it and all. But I just want to go back to saying that I love you. Because saying I only like you is just...wrong."
"Watch the video, honey."
"OK, I'll watch it."
-15-
Clayton insisted on getting popcorn to keep his mind busy because he said that seeing me naked was going to make him horny as hell. We put on the video and watched it on one of my three screens. We sat with our backs to the wall, on my bed.
He munched on popcorn. "Damn, you're really talking dirty to him, aren't you?"
I said nothing.
"Are those handcuffs?"
"Yes."
"Wow, Layla, I didn't know you..."
"Could you just watch already!?"
Some minutes passed.
"And now? What's he doing now?"
"He's fingering me."
"OK."
"Anally."
"Oh..." Clayton's mouth was stuck in the O position for a bit.
"Those are quite some sounds you're making for an...um...anal...penetration."
"You know, for a guy who's given anal himself, you sure have a lot of comments about it, don't you?"
"Hey, she was the one who insisted on it, not me."
"Huh?" I paused the video
"Hey! I was enjoying hearing your groans."
I turned to face him. "She told me you gave her anal because she said that's what all men want."
He shrugged, ate more popcorn. "Whatever. If a girl wants it, I'll give it to her. But I have no particular penchant for it. I mean, I don't know what it feels like so I can't say it's better for her in her vag or in her butt. If she tells me it's better in her arse, well, I like to satisfy."
"But she told me—"
"Layla, that's what I'm trying to tell you! That's why I couldn't be with her anymore! She uses people! She used me!"
"And what about all that licking your come seductively and stuff? Do you like that stuff?"
He made a raspberry sound. "Fuck, I don't give a shit if she licks it or sucks it or throws it in the toilet. I mean, I don't know what the shit tastes like, so if she likes the taste, let her go ahead and do what she wants with it."
"It tastes salty."
"Thank you. But it's still not my choice."
"What do I taste like?" I asked.
"Like sexy."
I punched him! "Tell me!"
"You never tasted yourself?"
"I want to know what I taste like to you. People have different perceptions."
"You and your perceptions..."
"Would you just answer the question already!"
"Let me taste you now and I'll tell you." He shifted down.
"No! We're watching the entire video."
"Christ, fine. You taste lemony and tangy. Very sexy flavor. Gets me hard every time I come near it."
Gush.
I put the video back on.
"You look hot," said Clayton. "I mean, really hot, with that frazzled hair and sexed-up look on your face."
"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Not really. Popcorn?"
"No!"
"He's got a good arse, you know that?"
"Yes, I know that. He also has a great— Hey, stop tricking me!"
"A great cock?"
I felt myself blush. "Yes! He has a fucking huge cock! Urgh!"
"The sounds you make are really erotic."
"Clay, is this video not bothering you at all?"
"Should it?"
I didn't know how to answer.
I saw the moment when Nathan put his hard-on inside me. I almost felt it again. I couldn't really see myself, only his muscular butt moving back and forth as he did me from behind. I heard my howling, my whimpers in response to his thrusts.
Then I saw my full-frontal figure in the mirror when he'd put me back on the counter and stepped out to get me a towel; my dress ripped apart, clothed in a black body-stocking. And one helluva satisfied look on my face.
In the video, Nathan said, "Go and jump in the shower for me, sweetheart. I want you to be fresh and smelling like roses when I next lick your puss
y."
Then he slapped me on the ass as I left.
"Is there more?" asked Clayton.
"Yes, there's more. Talking mostly, on the couch. Then we fuck again if I remember correctly."
"If you remember? Haven't you seen this before?"
"No, I haven't."
"Oh."
I saw Nathan approaching the camera, walking closer to it while I was taking a shower. No doubt to gloat about how he'd scored with me.
He was frowning.
He spoke to the camera. In life, he would've been speaking to the mirror above his mantelpiece.
"Nathan, you're a fucking prick, you know that? A fucking prick!? How could you do this to such a girl you fucking asshole? I mean, videoing her. That's it. She's the last one, cowboy. The last one! Now, if I ever catch you watching this before you tell her what you did, I'll cut your fucking balls off myself!"
He opened the mirror. His hand stretched in the direction of the camera. And then there was white noise.
My room fell silent except for the hiss of the speakers.
Neither Clayton nor I said anything to each other. The sound of crunching popcorn had also ended.
He cleared his throat.
I cleared mine.
I looked over at him and he was white as a sheet. "Shocked?" I asked.
"Um, no, no."
I was. I was indeed. Nathan had regretted what he'd done...
"I thought you said there was more."
"There was more, just...obviously...not videoed."
"You OK, Layla?"
"Yeah, of course. Of course..." I got up off the bed and pulled the tape out the camera. "And you?"
He shrugged. "I'm OK."
"You hot?"
"Actually, surprisingly...no."
"Really?"
He shook his head, chewed on a popcorn.
"You don't want me to put you in my mouth and kiss you?"
After a too-long moment of silence: "Um, I think it would feel a little weird if you did..."
"Really?"
"Really."
It felt as if the roof had fallen on me. I suddenly felt acutely aware of myself standing there. Even though I was fully clothed, I felt bare as anything. "Clay, talk to me. Please. I need to know what's going on in your mind."