Undisclosed Desire (The Complete Box Set

by Falon Gold

  I shift underneath him. He rocks to the side, so I can turn over, then he kneels over my thighs.

  “You’re driving me insane with the massage, Camron.”

  He bends. His lips scrape mine. I walk my fingers up his outstretched arms sheltering his weight from me, stopping at his neck to knit my hands around it. My thumbs propel his chin downward, opening his mouth so I can slip inside. When his tongue dances with mine, my lady parts hit their flashpoint. I begin to fidget and whine.

  “Camron.”

  “I know, baby, but we’re taking our time tonight.”

  He plants a butterfly kiss on my shoulder, and then one on the other. Holy hell. I get a little closer to becoming a parent, but not if that isn’t what he wants too.

  “What about—”

  “You getting pregnant?” His lips start a trail of soft pecks down my stomach. “I hope so. You can’t forget me.” A kiss. “If you have a someone.” Another. “With my DNA running around.” Another one. “Now can you?”

  “You want children?”

  “Yes, very much.” His response is almost inaudible, but loud enough to blow my mind.

  “We could already be facing that after the limo ride, and the last thing you are is forgettable.”

  He lifts his head and smiles. “What’s the first thing about me?”

  “Fishing for compliments?”

  “From you? Yes. You don’t give them as easily as you do insults.”

  “Well, I should start. You’re beautiful.”

  “That category belongs to you, sweetheart.”

  “No one has the monopoly on being beautiful, Camron.”

  “You do, Amari. Now hush, love. I want to talk to your body. I can’t if we’re talking.”

  True to his word, his mouth gets conversant with every inch of me. Pure divine torture, and I wouldn’t trade the torment he’s putting me through for all the money in the world, but it’s my turn. Squashing his ribcage between my knees as he nips at my breast, I roll us over. Camron ends up spread-eagle in the middle of the bed, eyes as wide as saucers.

  “Shit, Amari, that was hot.”

  “Somebody likes being dominated in the bedroom.” Crouching over his chest, I reach between my thighs to palm his velvet-steel length.

  His body jolts, and he groans, “If you’re doing the dominating, the bedroom isn’t the only place.”

  “Careful. My ego will swell. I’ll get possessive and grow claws like Bailey.”

  “Are you going to scratch me with them?”

  “Probably.”

  “Good.”

  “Kinky.”

  I stretch out between his legs to slurp, lick, and deepthroat him, intending to cause him as much distress as possible. I run my fingertips through the black curls a shade lighter than the strands on his head. His pelvic gyrates to the unhurried tempo of J. Holiday’s Bed. I think, this white boy can dance, and then I’m being plucked up and plopped down chest to chest with him.

  “Ride me.”

  “Just demand sex, huh? No kiss? Dinner? Date?”

  “Been there. Did that earlier and I didn’t get enough of either. I want inside of you.”

  “Well, since you’re acting like you’re starving, Cam.” I spread my legs on each side of him.

  Chris Brown’s 4 Seconds melody enhances the ambience created from Camron’s presence with soulful, erotic harmony.

  Camron frisks the globes of my ass. “Cam, huh? I like it, and you’ve got 4 seconds to put me inside you, Amari, or I’m going to fuck you like you stole something.” Bossy.

  I take my time adjusting my hips and tipping his rod up so I can guide it him inside my soaked opening. I moan low and long, while immersing my body in an ocean of bliss slowly. Going under.

  “How many seconds… Shit! Was that, Cam?” I pant, clutching his chest as if it’s a life raft.

  Being a smartass and full to the hilt with him isn’t cohesive to proper breathing.

  “Too long,” he replies hoarsely then springs up, and gathers my feet behind him. With two handfuls of my ass, he pounds up into me, topping from the bottom. “Now, I’m going to make you call me your God.”

  Arrogant as hell this one, and he has every right to be when he’s spearing through white hot spots high in my body. I meet him swing for swing, while weak-kneed and quivering under the bombardment of sensations he’s sparking. The floodgates to my climax blows open.

  “Oh, you’re definitely my God, Cam!”

  He shoulders my legs then blitzes me with rapid pumps until I can’t tell up from down or if the climax is ever going to stop. A magical lover. I cling to his neck until he rotates us and fills me from the behind.

  “Jesus, you’re tight! My fucking Goddess!”

  It’s all downhill from there. I lose consciousness. When I wake, the bedroom doors stand wide open, and he’s gone. I can’t remember much else other than being called his goddess. Must’ve fried my damn brains.

  Déjà vu rears its head. To decide if it’s ugly or not, I check the nightstand then lean over the bed. Searching under the mattress for anything he’d left behind for me, a sign that we’d graduated from… I still don’t have a name for what we are, but whatever it is, we’re still that. The surfaces are whistle-clean.

  “Damn. I thought we’d hit a milestone last night. Guess not.” But I’ll leave the walls down around my heart until I find out why not.

  Maybe, I should feel used after finding him missing in action. Yeah, well, I don’t, just thoroughly made love to. What does that say about me?

  “What are you looking for under there?”

  I jerk up to Bailey in the doorway, barefoot in a navy-blue mini-dress. If she bends over…

  Don’t even want to think about it.

  I bound upwards and cloak my body with the crumpled sheets. “What is it with people just walking into my room?”

  “Yours? Pfff. The doors were open. Who else has been in here?”

  I peek at the clock. “It’s too damn early for conflict at seven thirty a.m., Bailey. Get out.”

  She throws her hand ups. “Camron told me to tell you that breakfast is in thirty minutes. He wants to eat at eight sharp… and I’m sorry about last night.”

  “Why?” The last thing this bitch wants is peace between us.

  Why didn’t Camron tell me about breakfast himself? Not asking her that though. The other last thing she needs is ammunition to shoot at me with later.

  “Because I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I was raised better, but sometimes the alcohol does the talking.” My money’s on her hormones doing the talking.

  “It only says what you want to, Bailey.”

  “I know I was…” She shifts her weight to one foot, ill at ease. “Look, Camron doesn’t have to make anyone be here. Why are you if you don’t want to be?”

  She isn’t apologizing but prying about another woman possibly poaching on her territory.

  “Listen, Baily. I’m going to be honest with you. You don’t like me. I sure as hell don’t like you. Don’t walk into my room anymore with permission even if the doors are open. Let Camron do his own dirty work. If you want to know the exact reasons I’m here, ask him.”

  Bailey frowns, and hugs herself. “He’s on a call.”

  “Well, he’s not on a call in here, Bailey.”

  She twirls away, giving me a glimpse of her red thong and butt cheeks. They’re not bad looking, and I didn’t ever want to know that. Now, I’m pissed.

  I charge to the doors, to engage the lock. There isn’t one on my side. I find a singular keyhole on the outside though.

  “Son of a bitch! He’d given me this room for a reason. He could lock me in it.”

  His bedroom doors open across the hall, while I stand between mine. When he steps out in a raven-black, double-breasted suit and smiles, I close my doors and sequester myself in the bathroom, which can be locked from the inside. Someone tries the knob immediately, gets no entrance, and starts beating on the do
or.

  “Open the door, Amari.”

  “After I bathe, Camron. Then we’ll discuss why my doors have a lock on the outside and not the inside.”

  First the contract. Then Bailey. Now, this. How much am I supposed to endure here?

  “I never intended to lock you in anywhere, and I’ll give you the key if it bothers you. Now, open the door.”

  “I’ll gladly take that key. Slide it under the door then go away. I need to bathe.” I turn on the shower to remove Camron from all over me. I don’t think Bailey is above sniffing me for his essence, and I don’t want her knowing anymore about me. Information in the wrong hands is power, and she shouldn’t ever have that over me.

  “You’re being childish, Amari!”

  “No, that’s what your witch squad is! I’m being private and locked away! Now, let me be that, please!”

  “Open up before I break it down!” Camron’s tone could strip paint from the walls.

  “Hey, it’s your door,” I quip, and then the barrier between us starts breathing. “Camron, stop!”

  He doesn’t. It crashes to the floor. He tramples it, rushing toward me. Damn, he’s strong.

  “Is this what you want, Amari? Me chasing you and tearing down my doors! Fine! You got it!” He towers over me, chest laboring for air. Intimidating. All bark, but very little bite, and I’ve seen him naked, how he looks when he’s climaxing. Yeah, he’s still a beast, but he’s not that scary anymore.

  “Don’t put this on me, Camron. I didn’t tell you to tear down anything to get into my room. Privacy is a right amongst adults, not a privilege. If you don’t want me locking the door, take it off the damn hinges. Oh, but you already have in a tantrum worthy of a two-year-old. Congratulations. Now, grow up and learn some respect for the people and inanimate objects around you. I only wanted some privacy to bathe, nitwit.”

  “So, I’m back to being Camron now?”

  “You are when you’re tearing up shit to get to me.” What won’t he do to knock down hurdles that separate us?

  You don’t want to know.

  Actually, I do.

  “What is going on in here?” Bailey asks sweetly, while violating the room, and wearing troublemaker like armor. I want to wrap Camron in the sheet with me and howl Mine!

  I don’t. “You all need to leave. My shower is not a group activity.” But I must be lying again because no one budges, even Layla and Sasha are still spectating from the doorway.

  “Get out, Bailey,” Camron demands, while fixated on me.

  “Camron,” she starts.

  He sneers, “I said leave, Bailey.”

  She poses behind him, with her arms crossed, one knee bent. “No, Camron, I’m not leaving. You don’t act like this. It’s her making you like this, isn’t it?”

  ‘Yes, bitch, it is’ trips to the tip of my tongue. There’s underlying nervousness in her tone, and she’s a woman that doesn’t know how to get a clue. I can see the thirst she has for Camron a mile away, but she can’t get from him what he doesn’t want her to have. I’m undressed. Until I’m not, she needs to go be clueless and thirsty somewhere else.

  “Please leave, everyone,” I urge.

  Camron just moves closer. “We need to talk, Amari.”

  I tamper with the buttons at his abdomen. “I know, Cam, but I think you need to talk to Bailey more. She definitely has something to get off her chest. You need to deal with it and her, and I need to bathe.” My wishes are disregarded again, or everyone is hard of hearing. “Fine, I’ll go to a less busy area.”

  I step.

  Camron snags my elbow gently. “Bathe. I’ll see you in the dining room. Everyone out or I’ll carry you out. Amari, breakfast is at eight sharp.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  The room clears without Camron having to handle anyone. I shower quickly. Blast through brushing my teeth and combing my hair. Even quicker, I dress in a two-tone, white and black halter jumpsuit that is damn near priceless if the tag I snatch off it is right, and eighty-dollar black flats. I didn’t know who was coming through any of my doors at any moment, didn’t want to be nude when they did. A glimpse at my phone on the bench in the closet catapults a greater need to check on my finances and family than be on time for breakfast that includes the witches.

  Chapter Eight

  ~Amari~

  Missed texts from Sheryl inquiring about what happened at work yesterday, why wasn’t I there, and did I have to skip our date last night at the bar is ignored. I don’t know what to tell her, but I’ll see if I can make it up to her tonight... after I run it by Master Camron. That irks me, but at least I can delay that for the time being with my priorities. Calling my mother first gets me her voicemail. I leave a message to call me when she can. After I enter my information into the automated system for the credit card, I wait for it to spit out my credit limit for today. Unlimited is the golden number, and… that’s not a number.

  I look at my phone as if it’s I’m listening to another language. “What the hell?” I press 2 for a repeat of my limit.

  “Unlimited.” That’s not right.

  “Customer representative,” I gurgle into the line.

  Elevator music cuts in instantly. Shortly afterwards, a too damn chirper female. “This is Operator Lindsey. How may I help you, Ms. Spencer?”

  “I need to close my account… please!”

  “Are you sure, Ms. Spencer?” Now, she’s worried. Well, so am I.

  “Absolutely!”

  “Well, we just upgraded your account to unlimited—”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “You have a co-creditor whose income bumped up your eligibility for a much larger credit line.”

  Camron.

  “Shut it down.”

  “You should take advantage, ma’am. Paying the balance off in the same month raises your credit score significantly.”

  “My credit is just fine, or it will be after I close this account. You’ve allowed it to be mismanaged twice in a matter of days. That’s after you let someone make changes to my account and report that I’m not me before you snatched my credit limit and threatened to prosecute me. Then you let the same impostor tell you to give me all the credit available. I have no faith in your company anymore. Closed. The. Account.”

  “Okay, Ms. Spencer. I’m doing it now, but I wish you’d reconsider.”

  “I’m giving you’re the same consideration I was given two days ago by a representative who I pleaded with to restore my account after it was flagged for fraudulent activity. None. Your need to set more guidelines and firewalls for hackers and people that can just enter my information in your system and alter my account when they feel like it.”

  “I’m very sorry, Ms. Spencer. I can have you express your concerns to a supervisor. I’m sure any one of them can implement the changes you require to protect your account more efficiently if you would just—”

  “I’m not changing my mind. No need for the scripted plea. Mail my final bill to my…” Damn. “To this address.” I rattle off my mother’s.”

  “It’s closed now, Ms. Spencer. I apologize for—”

  I hang up then dial the bank. “Available balance for checking is one million, three hundred—.”

  “Jesus Christ Almighty Camron!”

  “Your selection is invalid.”

  “Oh, screw you, machine!” I disconnect the call two minutes before eight.

  Camron hasn’t stop executing his will over my finances. Adding money to my accounts almost makes me feel bought, but he’s just being generous. Too generous. Nothing unusual for him now that I’ve taken off my rose-tinted glasses that blurred his true nature. I haven’t earned the excess money, so I don’t want it. Can’t close my bank accounts without being there in person to carry my money to another institution. Don’t have a mattress to stash it under either.

  Camron is going to have to withdraw his funds, but this isn’t a request I’ll issue in front of the witch squad. They’re too pri
vy to my business as it is with doors that don’t lock or even stand to keep them out.

  Downstairs, I follow the aroma of breakfast under the chandelier into a stainless steel and oak kitchen fit for the chef busying himself with turning slices of bacon in one skillet, flipping egg in another on an eight-aisle stove in the center of the room. I cross the threshold and stop a few yards away from the wide island he’s working at.

  “Hello.” I catch him by surprise, hand in midair over a loaf of bread on the counter.

  “Hey,” he says with blue eyes wide enough to see into the future, pointing to an opened doorway to his left. “The others are in the dining room. Down the steps, to the right of the wall right there with water flowing over it, then another right. Left takes you to the pool and sunroom.”

  “Okay. Thank you. Need any help?”

  He frowns as if I’ve asked him strip. “Ah… I’m good.” A blond lock of unruly hair falls across his forehead, escaping an intentional bedhead hairstyle. He sweeps it away with the back of his hand.

  “I don’t mind helping. I’m not exactly thrilled to sit in there with them.”

  He consults the loaf of bread before wobbling his head and thrusting the bag over the stove. “You can brown these for me. There’s a toaster to your left on the counter under the low hanging cabinets. Just drop the slices on the platter in front of the toaster. They don’t eat butter or fruit spreads here. So yeah, that’s it.”

  While accepting the bread, I pinch a barstool from the other side of the island. “I’m Amari Spencer, a regular girl who eats butter, fruit spreads, pork, and salt, though I know shouldn’t.”

  “I’m Tommy Listern. I appreciate your help and anything eaten in moderation is healthy.”

  “Tell that to my figure. It stores every bit of fat like I’m in permanent starvation mode.”

  His heart-shaped face splits wide around the pinkish lips over a muscular build well-concealed by the chef jacket, until I’m only inches away from him. I stick four slices in the toaster before side saddling the stool. It’s not hard to learn anything about him. Looks much younger than twenty-eight. Have been Camron’s chef since he graduated college. Hopes to open a restaurant in Paris one day. Family genes trace back to the Rockefellers. His two older sisters are attorneys who own a prestigious law firm in New York City. They are not happy about him choosing to be a chef.