Yard Sale

by Charleigh Rose

  Cam moves down my body, peppering open-mouthed kisses on my belly before dipping lower. He pushes my knees back and wastes no time diving between them.

  “I missed this pussy,” he mumbles into me. There is no slow buildup. I’m thrust right back into ecstasy. My nipples tighten as he flicks at my clit with his tongue, and then he sucks it into his mouth. I gasp, my back rising from the bed, and he pulls back abruptly.

  “I need to be inside you. I can’t wait anymore.”

  Cam pulls off his hoodie and shirt in one swift move, then he shoves his jeans down his muscular thighs. He lowers his beautiful, colorfully inked body to mine, and then his huge thick cock is nudging against me, seeking entrance.

  “Open up for me, Mollie,” he grunts, wedging his way inside. Cam grips my knees and pushes them to my chest as he starts to slide in and out. I watch the way the muscles in his arms flex and the way the veins strain in his neck as he controls my movements with his hands now on my hips. It’s different this time. Everything is hypersensitive. I can’t usually come from penetration alone, but I just orgasmed from nothing but him touching my nipples, so anything is possible.

  His thrusts go from agonizingly slow to quick and powerful, and I have to drop my legs open, letting them fall on either side of him.

  “I can hear how wet you are,” he grits out, and his eyes follow the sound, locking on to where we’re joined. He stares at my belly, and I start to feel self-conscious about it as his movements slow. But then, he smooths his big palms up my stomach, rubbing it reverently with wonder in his eyes.

  “I can’t hold back,” he says, regret lacing his tone. “I have to come.”

  I can’t find words, so I nod, the desperation in my eyes telling him that I’m there, too. He lowers himself onto his forearms, his ragged breaths heating my neck. He nuzzles into me, and I feel his scruff scrape against my neck, shoulder, and collarbone as he ruts into me. Our sex-slick skin slides against each other, and I cling to his muscular back, digging my nails in for leverage.

  When my orgasm hits, it’s more powerful than the one before it—more powerful than any before it. Like no one’s ever been this deep inside me. Literally, and maybe even figuratively. It’s almost painful how hard I come, and I seem to endlessly clench and contract around him.

  “Fuck yeah, Mollie. Milk it out of me.”

  And then I feel him spilling into me as he shudders and jerks. He pulsates inside me, and he doesn’t make a move to pull away. He’s dead, sweaty weight on top of me. I’m trapped underneath two hundred pounds of tattooed flesh and muscle, but I’ve never felt safer in my life. Cam shifts his weight slightly, as if he could hurt the baby somehow, and I suddenly feel like crying. Again.

  Cam pulls back to look at me. He brings his palm to the side of my head and strokes my eyebrow with his thumb. The crease between his eyes deepens, as he notices my glassy eyes, yet again, but he doesn’t say a word. Because I think he knows that it isn’t necessarily a sad cry. And maybe—just maybe—he’s feeling something similar.

  “Are we having a boy or a girl?” Cam asks, breaking the silence.

  “I don’t know,” I admit. “My anatomy scan is next week. They check the heart, brain, spine, and other stuff, too.”

  “I’m coming,” he states matter-of-factly. “What are you hoping for?”

  “Healthy,” I say, lifting a shoulder. “That’d be nice.” I spent the first few weeks wishing that the test was somehow wrong. Then, at my first ultrasound, I fell in love and felt my first taste of mother’s guilt for ever wishing him or her away. I went from hoping it wasn’t true to being scared to death that something, like a miscarriage, will happen that will take this baby away from me. Funny how that works.

  Cam’s quiet, probably not having considered the fact that something could go wrong, and I feel guilty for ever putting the thought into his head.

  “I’ve been calling him or her Pinecone,” I admit, hoping to distract him from the way his thoughts must be going.

  “Pinecone, huh?” The corner of his lip twitches into an almost-smile.

  “Yes, Pinecone. This town is full of ’em.”

  “Pinecone,” he says again, rolling the word around on his tongue. “I can dig it. Have you thought of actual names?”

  “I like unisex names,” I say, but then I realize that he has a say now, too. I’m not used to having to share these kinds of decisions. “I mean, if you’re okay with that. Do you have any ideas?”

  “Considering the fact that I found out about two hours ago?” He chuckles. “Not a one. But I’ll think on it.”

  He finally rolls off me, his semi-hard length sliding from my body, and I feel his absence like a missing limb. I don’t like what that means. I don’t want to need anyone, especially not so soon. I consider myself to be a realist. I know the odds are stacked against us. And the fact that I’m tied to him for the foreseeable future makes it an even trickier situation. I don’t want to do something that will negatively affect this little pinecone’s life.

  “Your parents must think I’m such a fucking punk.” He sighs, sliding his hands through his dark blond hair.

  “Well…” I trail off, not knowing how to tell him that they think Tucker is the father.

  “What?” Cam asks, rolling on his side to face me. I pull the sheet over me and roll toward him.

  “They don’t really…know you exist?” It comes out sheepish, like a question more than a statement.

  “What do you mean?” His nostrils flare, probably having an inkling to where this is going.

  “They think Tucker is my boyfriend, so, naturally…”

  “Oh, yeah, naturally,” Cam says, every word packed with sarcasm.

  “Don’t,” I warn. I don’t want this to turn into a Tucker-bashing session. “He doesn’t want to take your place, Cam. It was his idea to come clean to our families after the holidays.”

  He reels in his temper, blowing out a breath.

  “I just hate that I didn’t know. You didn’t have to do this alone, Mollie.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry. I’ll always regret not telling you. But, since you’re here, and you know now,” I start, taking a fortifying breath, “what do you think of telling them tomorrow night at dinner?”

  Hopeful blue eyes lock onto mine. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah,” I say, and I am sure. “The sooner, the better, right?”

  “I concur. And the sooner I bury my cock back inside you the better, too,” he says, pulling me on top of him. “Show me what you got, Mama.”

  After sending Tucker away when he came knocking a couple of hours later, I stayed the night with Mollie. I practically slept inside her all night, if you want to get technical. Her family checked out of The Pines earlier, so I helped her pack before she took her things to their usual cabin. It’s Christmas Eve, and we usually spend it with Dare since our parents retired and moved to Arizona to get out of the cold. I told Cordell where I’d be instead, and surprisingly, I didn’t even catch shit for it. Mollie invited him along, but I want to do this alone.

  Before I can knock, Mollie opens the door, pulling me inside, out of the cold.

  “Merry Christmas Eve.” She smiles, and she looks extra happy, considering the conversation we’re about to have.

  “Who spiked your eggnog?” I tease.

  “I’m just relieved. Regardless of how everyone reacts, it’s going to be such a huge weight off my chest.”

  “I can imagine.”

  Mollie leads me through the stereotypical River’s Edge vacation rental. The walls are always either green or tan, and the décor is almost always bears or pinecones. This one opted for bears. And there is always a bearskin rug. This place is no exception. Mollie leads me through the house and to the kitchen, where everyone sits at the impressive dinner table that’s packed with food.

  “Everyone, this is my friend, Camden. Camden, this is my mom, Sarah, my dad, Nick, and my brothers, Craig and Andrew. You know Tucker.”

 
; Mollie’s mom smiles warmly at me; her dad gives me a wary look, assessing, but he gives a polite wave. Tucker appears to be mildly peeved about my presence. I give myself a mental reminder not to fuck my chances with Mollie by beating his ass.

  “Dude, you’re friends with Camden Hess?” one of Mollie’s brothers—don’t ask me which one—asks, disbelief written all over his face.

  “Nice to meet you, man,” I say, bending over to shake his hand from where he sits.

  “What does that mean?” Mollie’s mom asks, a confused yet polite smile plastered to her face.

  “It means Mollie’s been holding out on us,” the other brother says.

  “He’s a professional snowboarder,” Mollie clarifies, rolling her eyes. “I met him when we were here over summer.”

  “And yet, we’re just now finding out about it,” one of them says, crossing his arms over his chest. I still don’t know which is which, but I’m going to go with Andrew.

  “I didn’t even know who he was then!” Mollie exclaims.

  “You know what they say,” he says. “Excuses are like assholes—”

  “That’s enough, Andrew,” their mom warns. The one with the dark hair is Andrew. Light hair is Craig. Got it.

  “All right, all right, leave the guy alone,” Mollie’s dad says. “Can we eat now, or are we still waiting for someone else to join us? The Prince of Wales, perhaps?”

  “Let’s eat,” her mom says, shaking her head. “Camden, please, have a seat.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I say, rubbing my palms together. “This looks delicious. Thank you for having me.”

  “We’re glad to have you,” Sarah insists, and Mollie gives me a secret smile. Maybe this won’t be so bad.

  Dinner was officially a success. To her family’s credit, no one made any shitty, passive-aggressive remarks about my tattoos or asked me thirty-seven questions about each one and how much they hurt. After we were all stuffed to the brim, I helped Mollie and her brothers clear the table before they all sat back down to play games. When Mollie said they wanted to play games, I pictured fucking Monopoly. Nope. I was pleasantly surprised when Craig busted out Cards Against Humanity.

  After we sat through an awkward five minutes of Andrew trying to explain bukkake to his confused, slightly horrified mother, Mollie squeezed my knee and motioned for me to follow her. And that’s how we ended up heavy petting in the downstairs bathroom.

  “I can’t help it,” Mollie says, playfully nipping at my lip. “I’m always horny now.” She lifts her dark green dress, revealing her smooth pussy, and grabs my wrist, pulling it toward her.

  “No underwear?”

  “It gets in the way,” she says, and then she drops her head against my shoulder as I push two fingers inside her.

  “Lift your leg,” I instruct. “Let me see that pretty pussy.”

  She complies with a moan, leaning her palms against the sink behind her before bringing her right heel to rest on the edge. This position puts everything on display for me, from her tight cunt that’s swallowing my fingers, to her rounded belly, to her perfect, swollen tits.

  Unable to resist, even though I know her entire family is out there, I drop to my knees and bury my face between her legs. I tug her clit between my teeth as I continue finger fucking her. Another moan, this one a little too loud, and I know I need to make this quick. I pull my fingers from her, ignoring her whine of protest, and smear her wetness to the tight ring of her ass.

  “I’m going to fuck this ass one day,” I tell her quietly. “But for now, I’m going to use my fingers. I remember how much you liked it.”

  “Yes,” she breathes, and then my mouth is on her again. I slide my middle finger inside her asshole, and she jerks against my face. Anchoring her thigh to the sink with my free hand, I suck her clit into my mouth, batting at it with my tongue. I work my finger in and out of her as her breathing becomes erratic, and then her foot slips off the ledge and her thighs squeeze me, keeping me in place as she comes apart.

  “Jesus, fuck,” I say as her thighs continue to shake. “You’re beautiful.”

  Mollie pulls me up and kisses my face that smells of her. Her dress falls back down as she wraps her arms around my neck. I lift her by her hips and plop her back onto the counter. Her legs lock around my waist, and I’m about to take my dick out when the door opens and Mollie’s mom walks in.

  Fuck.

  “Mollie!” she gasps, and I whip around to face her, making sure to shield Mollie’s body in case anything is still hanging out.

  “What, did you find another spid—dear God! My eyes!” Andrew yells, attracting the attention of everyone in a ten-mile radius.

  “Mom! Get out!” Mollie snaps.

  “You have two minutes to get your lie together and get out here.” She slams the door, and Mollie jumps off the counter.

  “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” Mollie rambles, her bare feet pacing the tiles of the bathroom floor.

  “Relax,” I tell her. “We need to look at the positives here.”

  “Positives?!” she shrieks. “There aren’t any positives in this situation.”

  “Well, I wasn’t eating your pussy like dessert, for one thing. She could’ve come a couple of seconds earlier and got an eyeful. Plus, we were planning to tell them, anyway. That’s one way to do it.”

  “Oh my God,” she says again. “This is real. This is happening.”

  “It is, so buckle up, Buttercup, and let’s go tell them the truth.”

  Mollie takes a fortifying breath and opens the door.

  It’s time to face the music.

  Six sets of eyes are on me, each with varying degrees of horror plastered to them. I think Andrew is scarred for life.

  “What were you thinking, Mollie?” my mom asks, throwing her hands up.

  “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have done that,” I say.

  “Ya think?” my dad says, as if I just informed him that murder is bad.

  “Why aren’t you upset about this?” Craig asks Tucker, who looks like he wants to melt into the wall and disappear.

  “I, uh…” Tucker trails off, not knowing what to say. “Molls?”

  I don’t know how to do this, so I decide ripping the Band-Aid off is the best way to go about it.

  “I’m not with Tucker,” I admit, and no one looks surprised except for my parents. My brothers smile, like they knew it all along.

  “We never really were,” Tuck chimes in. “I’m sorry. I love you guys like family, and we didn’t mean to lie to you. This whole thing just kind of got out of control. My dad thought we were together, and he started giving me clients at work, talked about making me a partner at Hastings. And then it just kept getting harder to come clean.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense, Tucker. Why lie to us?”

  “I didn’t want you to slip up around my parents. It had to seem real. And it was real, in a way. At least for me. I hoped Mollie would end up feeling the same, but she never did.” Tucker directs the last part of the sentence to me. “We never should’ve dated. We’re better as friends.”

  “This is bullshit. I’m going to bed. Merry Christmas, you’re all crazy,” my dad says, before heading upstairs.

  “Wait, Dad,” I say, before the courage leaves me completely. “There’s one more thing.”

  “Jesus Christ, Mollie. Are you trying to kill your old man?”

  “Tucker isn’t the father. Cam is.”

  My dad throws his hands up as if to say of course, he is, and then he’s upstairs, hiding from the crazy.

  “You guys just assumed—” I start, but my mom cuts me off.

  “Because we thought he was your boyfriend!”

  “I know, I know. I don’t know what to say, besides I’m sorry.”

  We go around and around again, until all of us are yawning and seeing through half-closed eyelids. Mom grills Cam, but Andrew and Craig are pretty much just hyped that they’re essentially going to be related to him now. Tucker is the first to bo
w out. He offers to leave, but my mom insists he stay here. He’s still family.

  I can tell she isn’t comfortable with Cam being here, but honestly, I’m not comfortable being without him right now. I only have a few more days in River’s Edge, and I want to get to know him as much as I can. To soak him in and drown in him. So I decide to stay with Cam, leaving her with a promise to come home first thing in the morning, being Christmas and all.

  Once we’re back at his house, I’m too tired to function, which is unfortunate for the case of blue balls he’s been nursing since the bathroom incident. Cam curls up behind me in his bed, wrapping an arm around me.

  “Why aren’t you in Aspen?” I ask the question that’s been niggling at the back of my mind but kept putting off because there were more pressing matters at hand. Cam exhales harshly.

  “I got hurt.”

  Not expecting that answer, I roll over to face him, our noses inches apart. “What happened?”

  “It was right after I met you. Fucked up my knee on my skateboard. Kind of screwed any hope of having a career as a professional athlete.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say softly, not knowing what to say. “Are you healed?” He must be somewhat healed if he’s a snowboarding instructor.

  “Mostly,” he says, his hand sliding down to the curve in my hip, purposely not meeting my eyes. “I wallowed in my self-pity for a while. Drank too much. Slept too little. Partied too hard. But now, I’ve pretty much accepted the fact that I’ll never ride professionally again.”

  I think back to the night we met, and how he was so stubborn and confident, even with me, a complete stranger, and how that Cam was so different than the one in front of me.

  “That’s bullshit.”

  Cam’s eyebrows jump up to his hairline. “Come again?”

  “That’s bullshit,” I repeat, firmer this time. “If you want to ride professionally again, then you can. If you don’t want to, that’s another story…”

  “It’s not that simple, Mollie.”

  “I might not know anything about your world,” I admit, “but I can tell when a person is letting fear hold them back. That’s my job,” I try to joke. “Our kid needs one of us to have some balls.”