I point my head toward the romantic comedy instead of the action movie, trying to wait out the pain in my head. He laughs. "Figures. By the way...that's what you get for starting without me."
I grab a throw pillow and toss it at him. He dodges. "You're the one that handed it to me without a disclaimer!"
He opens the DVD case. "When this is over, I may need you to help me find my balls, because they're probably going to disappear the second I start hearing mushy stuff and girl talk."
"You're being a bit melodramatic, don't you think? That one is supposed to be funny. She acts like a man in her promiscuous ways. You should be able to relate."
He places the disc in the player. "I'm pretty sure I've never been classified as a trainwreck."
He grabs the remote and walks toward the couch, falling down onto it until he's lying diagonal with his head at my shoulder. "Why do you assume I can relate to promiscuity of any ki-"
I shove a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth, cutting him off. "Oh, shut it, sex boy. I've moved past the fact that you have way more experience than me. Don't try to finagle your way out of it."
I try to hand him the bowl as he sits up. "Keep it. My hands will be busy."
"Doing?"
"Your toes."
He grabs the bottle of polish off of the table as the previews begin to play on the screen, then pulls his leg into a flat bend on the couch, as he turns to face me. He grabs my ankle, bringing the arch of my foot to rest on the inside of his knee.
I sarcastically laugh. "Oh yeah right. It's fine. I'll just wait until after the movie or something. Here, give it to me."
I reach out for it and he just stares at my open hand. "What's wrong? Do you not think I possess the necessary skill to paint a woman's toes just because I'm an attractive, very manly, man?"
"Exactly. Manly - I definitely love that about you - and the art of nail painting just don't go together. It has to be done smoothly and with finesse to it. I'm not really going for abstract."
His hand goes for his heart. "I'm a little offended."
"It's nothing personal. I'm just picky. Now give me." I gesture for him to place it in my hand. He grabs my hand instead of placing the glass bottle in it and flips it over, kissing the back.
"You can have that back now. Press play, relax, and pig out on that bowl of sugary goodness while I paint my woman's toes." He extends his arms as if he's loosening them up, then moves the bottle, placing the bottom in the center of his palm and the neck between his middle and ring fingers; before grabbing the top and removing the brush. "It's best that you learn now I don't back down just because I'm told to."
Panic starts to arise as he brings the brush close to my big toe. All I can picture is having polish all over my toe and barely any on the nail, like a toddler trying to color but just can't seem to stay inside the lines. "Ugh." I slam my head down on the arm of the couch and shove another dollop of ice cream into my mouth. "Why on earth would you want to paint my toenails? I've never heard of a guy painting his girlfriend's nails. It's weird."
"Because I haven't done this in years and I am curious to see if I still got it...and even though you won't admit it, you like it. Most guys wouldn't do this. Only the real men are secure enough in their sexuality to dabble in things that makes their women happy. I'm a jack-of-all-trades, baby. You don't need a woman to have a sleep over. You have me. I'm about to rock your world."
I dip the spoon into the untouched flavor as he hunches over and grabs the tip of my toe, touching the brush at the back of my nail. The Tonight Dough is one I've never had. Upon spreading it over my tongue a moan escapes. "Oh my gosh," I say with a full mouth, trying to swallow and wanting to savor it at the same time. "This is so good."
He looks up and opens his mouth, waiting for it. I have an idea. I direct a fresh spoonful toward his open mouth, but just before entry I pull back and plunge it into my mouth, swallowing only part of it. "That was dirty," he says laughing, and then goes back to what he was doing. I can feel him on my small toe already.
When the brush leaves my foot, I lean forward and grab him by the back of the neck, pulling him into a kiss, and then share the ice cream my way. When nothing is left but the aftertaste of caramel, chocolate, and peanut butter cookie dough mixture, I release him and grab the remote, going back to my original position, and then turn my head to the television with a slight smile.
I press play to start the movie, trying not to think too hard with my stomach in knots. He makes me want to be bold and lively. He makes me want to live as if I'm dying. He makes me want to experience life with no restrictions. There isn’t a single day that I’m with him that I feel like something is missing. He's changing me into the person I want to be. He makes me be the person I'm supposed to be: me, the girl different from everyone else. He probably doesn't even realize he's doing it. That's exactly why I'm in love with him.
He clears his throat and mumbles. "Damn."
My opposite foot inches toward the inside of his thigh, my toes wiggling against the bottom hem of his nylon shorts, dipping beneath the material. Slowly they ascend, sneaking along the length of his leg as if trying not to get caught, and I'm surprised when no boxer briefs stop me in my path.
The pads of my toes collide with one very hard piece of man meat. The round head is soft, but hard, such a contradiction. I skim the length with my foot, softly, trying to handle with care. "You keep that up and polish is going to be all over this couch, because I'm seconds away from shoving your legs back and fucking you without even removing your clothes or mine.
I turn my head away from the alcohol induced coma the girl is in, just after watching her sarcastically stroke his ego by telling the poor guy in front of her how endowed he is as he shucked his clothes. I'm pretty sure he didn't even notice the lies that were coming out of her mouth. It's going to be a long night for him...
Saxton is staring at me, a heated look on his face. I rub against it again. "I'm game if you are." I grin, but his face doesn't change. Instead, he grabs my foot and backs it away from his dick.
"Later. I want to spend time with you for a bit instead of fucking you into a coma."
"Such a mood killer, and buzz for that matter," I say in a witty sarcasm. The pop of pink catches my attention. I look down. "Hmm... Not bad. I was expecting a massacre and instead got a pretty damn good paint job. The only plausible thing to follow is a story. Spill, sexy."
"Well, it's fairly simple. My sister was a little older. She had hot friends. My dick wanted to be close to the hot friends, so she basically made me her bitch boy in the process. I've painted a lot of toes in my days and massaged many feet. I kind of like feet because of it. Well, cute and dainty feet. I suppose I need to clarify, because some feet just make you want to run. Yours I like."
I bust out laughing and sit up, handing him the bowl of half melted ice cream. "Wait just one second. So you're telling me you hung out at girls' sleepovers on a regular basis? Just so you could be close to older girls? You are such a guy or totally opposite. I can't be sure which." I laugh all over again. "Did it even pay off? Did you ever get some cougar action toward your innocence?"
He places the polish on the table and takes a bite of ice cream. "Cougar? Oh come on now. They weren't that much older." He winks. "But I will never tell," he says with laughter in his tone.
I shove his arm. "You just did! You sound like you were a total womanizer. My brother would never let me hang out with him and his friends. He turned into a complete jerk if I got anywhere close to his friends, so I stayed away."
"I'm only going to say that girls in general like to be taken care of. I womanized nothing. I simply wanted to admire and was forced to work to do so. What happened when I left those girls was not my fault. My room was on the opposite end of the hall and I went to bed like a good teenage boy. If someone wanted a bed mate, well, who was I to decline?"
He pauses to take another bite of ice cream. "Had you been there, though, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be the inno
cent of the two involved. That's why your brother was a jerk, baby. Smart guy. I would bet a large sum of money that they made comments about you. You're beautiful and your body is the type guys go home and jerk off to. I would have done the same thing if I were him. My friends wouldn't be allowed to even touch you with a ten-foot pole. That means he cares. Where is he? You never talk about him."
Thoughts plague me. "Had I known you back in high school, I'm pretty sure the word innocence would not have existed with either party. Just sayin'. He goes to Alabama. He got to go to the college he chose, even though it requires for him to live on campus. Should only have about a year left before he graduates with a business degree unless he goes to grad school. He's smart, and driven to make something of himself, so I'd be surprised if he didn't. I'm sure my stupid dad will pay for that too, yet me, I get nothing that doesn't exist under his little umbrella he has for me."
"Do you ever talk to him?"
"Not really. We kind of just distanced our relationship when he left for college. I think he was going through some things...that now very much make sense as to why he wouldn't want to be BFFs with his little sister, but that's for a different day. I don't know. Maybe some of it is because I'm jealous he gets to follow his own chosen path and am holding a grudge against him when it's not really his fault. Plus, I just feel like he kisses my dad's ass instead of doing what he wants, because he used to talk about wanting to go for engineering, but when he mentioned it Dad kind of shot that down like it wasn't a good enough choice or something. Why? Who knows, because they make really good money and I think he's smart enough to do it, but my dad is very cut and dry, stuck in his ways, and very much like old, southern money type men. I'm really not even sure how to explain it myself, because it's ridiculous and stupid."
"Tell me more. I want to know more about you. What made you move to California?"
"You really want to talk about my stupid family?"
"Yes. They are a part of you, and I'm interested in knowing what makes you, so family is just part of it, good or bad. Clearly, you can leave out personal details, but generalize."
"Okay, so my dad has this warped idea that women belong in the home. That's their place in this world. They don't work to put food on the table, and they don't contribute to the family income. If they do anything it's more of a hobby, and it's to be done in a way that doesn't interfere with home life. He just always believed that things worked best how they were back in biblical times, back when women took care of the house and children. To him, it was necessary for kids to have a parent that was there one hundred percent of the time, to teach and mold throughout life. My brother is a boy, and it's been drilled in his head that one day a family will rely on him for guidance, for financial support, and to be the head of the household, so for him to go to college was fine. He was even told once that if he was going to sow any wild oats it better be done there and left behind when he graduated, because then it was time to be a man, but me, I'm expected to find a worthy husband and follow in my mother's footsteps. Since that doesn't happen overnight, I was allowed to go to junior college and live at home until I met someone that my parents felt was an honorable man."
"Well, I put a damper on that plan, didn't I?"
I laugh. "You joke, but it's a miserable life. It leaves no room to be your own person, make your own mistakes, and decide what you want to do. It's a double standard. Why is it that Ben gets a ticket to go party for a few years and experience girls while I'm being held hostage in my own home and hometown? What's sad is that I might be more apt to agree with some of his ideals had I been given the same bargain: to leave it at college and grow up. At least then I would never have any regrets, but he wasn't willing to bend and my mother would never in a million years disagree with him, so when Meredith gave me an offer I couldn't refuse, I ran away. That may have been the coward way, but it was the only way."
He grabs me and pulls me onto his lap in a straddle, as he moves into the correct position with his back against the back of the couch. He runs his hands into the sides of my hair and rubs his thumbs over my ears. "It's kind of like he had a good vision and let it go too far, you know? All of that part about the family is great, and I kind of agree with it in some ways, but the missing key is that it's only great if that's what the woman wants. My mom was a stay-at-home mom. With a farm it's kind of an all hands on deck thing, but she chose that. My dad would have gladly hired an extra hand to take her place had she wanted to work. If we were married and had kids, I would much rather you raise them than someone at a daycare or a sitter, especially in the first several years of their lives, but I would never force you to stay at home, and I would also never leave all of the weight of the home on you just because I brought home the income. That's kind of fucked up if we're supposed to be partners. Not only that, but I don’t want to look back when our kids are teenagers and realize I missed out on all that stuff when they were little."
I can't even find air right now. He just spoke of marriage and kids. I feel like someone opened a jar of butterflies in my stomach and they're fluttering around. I do want those things, I just want them with the person I choose to have them with and not someone that my dad basically hand picks for me. "That's not even a drunk thing to say."
"That's because I'm not drunk anymore. I don't need to be drunk to say those things, because I mean them. I'm not that kind of guy. I never have been. I may not be one of those guys that walks around screwing everything that walks, minus the career ordeal, or blaming the world for my pain by being an asshole manwhore to every girl that I come in contact with, but I'm still a guy that is just as capable of having those things when I'm ready and find the one worth taking that plunge with."
The air is getting thick in here. "So one day you want marriage and kids?"
"I did. It's why I proposed."
"Oh. I understand."
"But then for a while I didn't, because those things didn't work out on my side; although I'm starting to realize they weren't supposed to, because I had the wrong girl and the timing was off. Gravity was pulling me in a different direction, and nature was making me bide my time, because the girl I was meant to have those things with was still growing up."
"Did she finally grow up?" My face is a reflection of what my heart is trying to say. It's screaming and dancing inside. That is the most romantic thing I've ever heard.
"Yes. It's about damn time. She turned out beautiful."
"You're a total womanizer," I whisper. "Because I'm completely in love with you."
"You're the only girl I'm interested in womanizing, Kambry, because I'm completely in love with you too, and one day I'm going to marry you."
"You're sure?"
Please say yes.
"As long as you don't say no. It doesn't take a year for my heart to know that I am, because when I met you, it just kind of went there you are, and it's only gotten stronger since."
I place my forehead on his and close my eyes. "It did, didn't it? I couldn't have said it better, and I would never tell you no."
He kisses me and then slaps my ass. "Good, because that would be detrimental to more than my ego. Now get back over there and let me paint the other foot. Plus, it's two coats...no more, no less."
I roll my eyes with a massive grin on my face. He's right. He knows exactly what a girl wants; at least me. He's the perfect balance between manly and sweet. And he’s funny. He's perfect for me. "Remind me to thank your sister when I meet her."
He smiles when I get back in position to hand him the unpainted foot. "I think she and I would both like that...very soon." He bites his lip. "What about in a few weeks?"
"Are you serious? No pressure or anything."
"I never joke about introducing someone to my family. Plus, why wait. I know I want you to meet them and that's possibly the only opportunity for a while."
"Okay." That nervous flutter returns. "What if they don't like me?"
His grin broadens. "Baby, I know my family, and they'll probably
talk to you more than me. Fall in the city? Have you ever been?"
New York City. I feel like that little smiley emoticon with the hearts for eyes. I've always wanted to go. I watched the ball drop every year on New Year’s Eve and lived for the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. I just read this funny romantic comedy book that described the tiny apartments, quaint little restaurants, and subways that smelt of urine. For something that partially sounds so bad, nothing has ever appealed to me more. I've always wanted to experience shopping and cab rides and Times Square. I guess I'm a country girl by birth and a city girl by heart, because I love LA and never want to leave just in the short time I've been here.
I shake my head. "No, but I've always wanted to."
My voice broke halfway through my sentence. "Well I guess it's settled then. I'll set it up. I really like being your first experience with all things. It’s also like experiencing it for the first time myself, because experiencing it with you gives me a totally different perspective on things."
"Well you really shouldn't ever run out of those. There's more that I haven't done than have."
"I'm hoping for that."
He grabs my foot and positions it to go back to painting. No date could ever get more perfect than this. It's just the two of us with no need to restrict our emotions. There is no one to judge us or ruin it, and that's what makes it special. Who would have thought that porn would introduce me to the man of my dreams...
I wouldn't have.
My phone starts vibrating on the bedside table, waking me. I was pretty much awake anyway because the sunlight was starting to come through the windows. I prop myself up to slide my arm out from under Kambry's neck without waking her. There are only two sets of people that would call me this early: my parents or Tynleigh, my sister. I tried calling her last night and it went to voicemail, so it could be her.
Kambry stirs as I free my arm, but she settles back into her pillow and stills. I love to watch her sleep in my arms. It's pretty much become part of my morning routine, because I'm always up before her. I find myself not able to get up for at least thirty minutes after I awaken. It reminds me that life isn't always shitty, even for those like me that's endured a stretch of loneliness, because I sure as hell missed this way more than I thought I would.
Sex Sessions: Uncut (Camera Tales #1) Page 40
