by Katie Dowe
Cameron’s eyes examined her coffee-colored skin, and the way his pale hand contrasted so marvelously against the duskiness. It made their bodies stand out, like yin and yang, perfectly matched against each other.
He kissed her neck as she undid her bra, revealing expansive breasts, which his hands glided to with glacial slowness, adding to the atmosphere of excitement and anticipation between them. She kissed what she could, his forehead, his hairline, his lips, all the while feeling his erection straighten, filled with desire.
“I’m worried I might hurt the little one,” he said, as one hand dropped from her pert nipple and persistently circled Aleshia’s stomach. The feeling relaxed her, and she scratched lightly behind Cameron Lovell’s left ear, smiling at the shivers that went through his body.
“As long as you’re not using me like a trampoline, it’ll be alright,” she assured him. She had actively checked up and asked the nurse about it as well, curious to know if people still went through with sex during a pregnancy. It depended on the individual – what precautions they took, how their hormones flared and waned over the period of time.
“Noted,” he said wryly. He trailed fingers to her crotch. “What about here? Aren’t you still sore from the… tear, was it?”
Aleshia exhaled. “A little. It’s getting better.”
He nodded to himself. “Well, there’s always a solution for that…” He smiled suggestively, running a damp tongue over his top and bottom lip.
Aleshia’s eyes nearly leaped out of her skull. “Yeah… I can think of a couple of solutions for that as well.” A massive hormonal surge coursed inside, heightening the arousal and attraction for Cameron Lovell – his wicked grin sent several nudges of excitement, and a low hiss emitted from her throat.
Smiling like the Devil himself, Cameron proceeded to softly massage her sensitive breasts, noting her reactions, when she winced and when she sighed, adapting fast to the signals she gave him. His chest brushed over her stomach, along with his arm, as he kissed the tip of her breast, dabbed his tongue around it, curling, flicking, sucking – a teaser to what he planned to do once her panties were off.
Aleshia watched him in the act, loving the way his eyes went from focusing on the section of body he kissed, to staring shamelessly into hers, keeping unwavering contact until Aleshia squinted hers in pleasure, spitting out a moan. One of Cameron’s hands rested directly above her heart, feeling the increasing excitement – she felt an echo of the pulse in his wrists, saw his erection now pushing against his boxers for release.
He kissed downwards, taking special care to kiss all around her stomach, tugging her panties off as he did so. Then, he scooted backwards, skating palms over her legs, noting the healing cut below her knee, and began a path of kisses from the top of her feet to her soft thighs.
The tension grew with every kiss, and her heart thudded in a frenzy as he neared his prize. She jolted in delighted shock as he ran one unexpected hand over her core, carrying the wetness along her lower lips. Again, the grin strengthened on his face, as he saw how aroused she was for him.
When he rested his lips on the hooded flesh that contained her clit, she sighed. He hummed into her core, causing her body to visibly jerk, and then unraveled his tongue, seeking for the tiny bundle of nerves that would bring her to orgasm. When he found the spot, he kept contact with it, the wet warmth and softness of his tongue being perfect, allowing her to squirm and buck in pleasure. Sometimes with her vigorous movement, he lost the pressure, and eventually had to wrap his arms around her thighs, pressing them onto her hips to hold her still. He flicked. The tremors in her thighs increased, the feeling built – and she tumbled over into orgasm less than a minute later, crying out as her body shuddered through it.
They spent the next five minutes cuddling, flushed with happiness, before Aleshia did the same in return, caressing Cameron’s hardness in her mouth until he came. After that, they couldn’t stop touching each other.
The time spent together felt amazing. Partly because Aleshia knew they wouldn’t be able to have as much sex later on, when her hormones went completely haywire over the pregnancy, and partly because a little voice inside her feared that this glory wouldn’t last – she became somewhat of a sexual deviant around Cameron.
She also never remembered feeling this much love and warmth in their embraces. Peter never gave her that security. He made her orgasm, sure, but he never made her feel special, to the extent that Cameron did.
A week later, she checked her calendar for her scheduled ultrasound scan. She paraded around her house naked as Cameron slept in the bed at six in the morning, noting that she had about another week before the scan occurred. The bulge on her stomach was more pronounced. In tight clothing, people would see she was pregnant.
When she clambered back into bed, Cameron was ready to pounce. “I wondered where you went,” he purred, sinuously brushing against her body. With a giggle, she latched onto him, cradling hard as they began kissing in earnest, allowing the desire to spark through their bodies again, heating up into an insatiable lust for each other, sending their souls up to the stars as they reveled in the contact, in having beaten the odds in finding one another on this huge planet of seven billion people.
Their bodies clashed under the thin, dark green sheets of the bed. They became tossed off in the romp, Aleshia sliding her feet along his calves, tilting her head back in a sigh of happiness as he left wet, lip-sized patches all along the skin, kissing up to her ear, along to underneath her eye, nose, and back to her waiting mouth. They forgot how to breathe on more than one occasion.
Sometimes, words that strung together into poem fragments marched across her mind, trying to capture the moment into something more tangible, but the words evaporated under the constant dance of pleasure that roared inside. She craved Cameron. She needed him. The affection built up, so intense, that several times during the love-making, she had to battle back the urge to burst into tears, determined to not ruin the moment by doing so.
They wouldn’t have been bad tears, of course, but didn’t belong in this place, where Cameron squeezed her breasts, probed her mouth with his tongue, and shared in her delight. His ruffled hair looked adorably sexy as he kissed her breasts – his favorite act of foreplay, Aleshia noticed, during their intimate times together.
“I just love the way they look and feel,” he explained, even as his fingertip ran maddening laps around her nipples, making her arch and sway from the tantalizing feeling, “How soft they are, how they cup perfectly in my hands…”
“Mm…” Aleshia groaned, as he flicked them, sucked them, and dragged his blunt nails over her ribs, down the sides to her hips. “That feels good…”
“You feel good,” he corrected, smiling gently, patting her leg when it jerked in pleasure. Everything about the situation served to entice Aleshia more – the room still smelled of the sex from last night, with Cameron’s distinctive, fresh air scent, as if tempered by years of salted winds and summery days – the curving wood contributing the essence of nature and beauty into the bedroom, and the way Cameron sometimes soared above her, like a dolphin breaking the waves, to lunge and kiss her lips instead, drowning in the sparks of joy they experienced in their close contact.
Naked bodies slid and scratched, became tangled in the sheets, writhed in the quiet of a rainless morning. Aleshia inhaled Cameron’s scent, eyes fluttering shut as she focused in the moment at last, her brain no longer forming poems, or whispering doubts, and telling her things couldn’t last.
All that mattered was Cameron Lovell, the present, and the consummation of their desire.
Their bodies shared the joy in their hearts. Cameron’s cock, hard from the presence of Aleshia and their sensual intimacy, brushed over her thighs as she spread her legs in the bed, allowing him to settle there. She no longer wanted just the oral contact. She felt healed enough, determined enough to finally have Cameron where she needed him most. She shivered at the realization of that thought, frighte
ned and excited at the same time of the intensity of how much she craved Cameron. It swept her off her feet like a whirlwind. It made her re-evaluate everything she had ever known and assumed, because all those neat little words were completely meaningless, when it came to the burning relationship she shared with this man.
“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” He whispered, even as he rested against her lower entrance, where her body trembled in wait for him to push inside.
“Yes,” she hissed back, capturing his lips in a kiss, to silence his doubts, to show her certainty. Slowly, he entered her warmth, and she sighed, grinning, arching into him as he began thrusting in and out.
Now, he moved where he belonged, wrapped up in her, sharing their warmth together, and he suppressed grunts and groans of sheer pleasure at the feel of her, arms trembling on either side of her as he moved. She moved partially with him, encouraging him to speed up, assuring him that she felt fine, more than fine, whispering words of love and lust as they surged together to a crescendo of hormones and joy.
Her walls contracted around him as she felt the first spasms of her orgasm, and the contraction helped tip him into the promised land, right after her. They gasped and moaned, clutching one another’s bodies for support as they rode the high, and came down together, breathing fast, sweating, grinning.
They spent the morning together doing not much else. It disappointed her slightly, when he needed to go off to work, but she hid it, knowing at no point, she should make him feel guilty for leaving her.
Instead, she left the bedsheets rumpled, and worked on her laptop, smiling at the thought of the upcoming evening.
Vaneese sent her a text.
Hey, lil sista. Hope things between you and Cameron are going well!
Aleshia smirked. Oh, they were going well. More than well. She picked up the phone, determined to tell her sister every gory detail. After all, one way or another, the formidable woman would find a way to dredge the truth out of her.
She leaned back in her seat as she texted, utterly content.
Chapter 8
When Cameron wasn’t there, and the satisfaction had the chance to die off, the doubts wormed their way back. They renewed themselves over the sporadic text messages of Peter, who still insisted on his game of cat and mouse, where she was always the mouse, always being lured back into the trap of Minnesota and a life devoid of real happiness. Cameron caught the mood sometimes, and hastened to reassure her.
Reassurance wouldn’t be enough for those doubts alone. They ate away at the goodness, they festered like a gaping wound, the more Aleshia allowed them voice. Careful, Vaneese had warned. Your psyche is still damaged from the time spent with Peter. You still don’t want to believe happiness is real, because part of you thinks it doesn’t exist, or that if you have it, the happiness will then be whisked away from you.
Vaneese expressed surprise and acceptance all in one dose, making sure Aleshia received her warnings and functioned, fully aware of the possible consequences of her actions. She spoke to Cameron privately, and he had come back to Aleshia, looking thoroughly roasted, but determined to see their blossoming relationship survive.
However, their relationship couldn’t survive Aleshia’s doubts.
The ultrasound scan went without a hitch. Aleshia debated whether she wanted the gender of the baby to be a surprise or not, though Cameron insisted on knowing. The cold gel on her stomach, the cold scanner as it ran across the gel, seeking out the life form enclosed by her womb, revealed a curled up fetus.
“A boy,” the nurse had crooned. “You’ll be expecting a boy. Are you excited to be parents?” She addressed them, oblivious, of course, to their unusual situation.
“Very,” Cameron said.
“Nervous, but yeah,” Aleshia echoed.
Walking out of the ward, Cameron had squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry. I can see you’re stressing. Don’t worry. It will be fine. The baby will be fine. We will be fine.” He kissed her on her temple. “We’ll just take this as it comes. I’ll be here.”
This is madness, Aleshia’s thoughts had responded, betraying the turmoil within. Instead, she smiled, and nodded, and said she knew.
When he went to work later in the day, Aleshia sat at home, her untouched editing project glaring in front of her. She was drinking her way through a pot of coffee, and didn’t plan on sharing the news with her sister. All the while, the negative thoughts swirled in a taunting cacophony. Where had they come from? Why did they soar so strongly, when this should be a time of new love and happiness? More poem fragments formed in her mind, but none of them showed even the tiniest hint of positivity.
Her words reflected her doubts.
Starting on her third cup of coffee, her phone vibrated with another waspish text from Peter. Her doubts boiled up into fury as she read it.
Why won’t you answer me? Don’t you love me as much as I love you?
“Bastard,” she spat, copying her sister’s attitude. “Bastard. Fucking… bastard.” She jabbed at her phone, fingers clumsy. The menu opened by his name. She scrolled down, finding the delete option. Without the slightest hesitation, though her heart pounded in terrified fury as she did so, she deleted the number. Then she deleted the entire thread, erasing a year of history under shaking hands.
On the warpath, she went for her laptop, and erased Peter out of her life from every platform she connected with him on, with the ferocity of a scorned woman. Skype, Instagram, Facebook, Youtube, emails. She deleted every email for good measure, blocked him from ever being able to see her Facebook again, and changed her password, just in case he might have an idea of what it was.
No stone was left unturned in her crusade. After the last wisp of Peter had vanished from her Gmail forever, she stared at her screen, feeling utterly devoid of emotion. Every asset of her was frozen.
There, a voice whispered. He’s gone. You should be happy, now. She gritted her teeth. Liar, she thought back. Liar.
There was no happiness to be found in her actions. Just an overwhelming sense of despair, that perhaps what she did was wrong, completely, utterly wrong. She had caved into the voice of her sister, to the doubts inside.
Blinking her way back into action, swallowing more of the coffee inside, she looked at Cameron’s Facebook, examining his pictures. What a wonderful smile. She caught hints of that sadness in some of the pictures.
She stared at her phone, again. Somehow, deleting all memory of her son’s biological father made her feel defiled. Dirty. Thinking about roping Cameron into the new ride also created slivers of guilt, along with the very real, tangible notion – what if Cameron changed, just like Peter? He might be all sweetness, promises and smiles right now. But so was Peter.
Peter came to her as the perfect gentleman, charming his way into her life. Darkness only began popping up later into their relationship, finally making itself known when she proved positive from the pregnancy test.
Cameron, too, provided the ideal image of a gentleman, and charmed her with a smoldering gaze, a curve of his lips. He made her believe that the impossible could happen. Surely, she wondered, Cameron was hiding something different under the surface. No one could be that kind, that determined.
No one loved you like I did, Peter’s voice ghosted in her mind.
Somehow, she managed to wade her way to the end of the editing project, and sent it off to her client so the funds could be released into her account. She hated the wretched, miserable feeling of considering the events of her life, reflecting back through all her failed relationships, and the inevitable break-down between her and Peter. Nothing in her life suggested the pattern would change. Not even with Cameron Lovell.
The moments they shared – it had been a beautiful, crazy dream. But she couldn’t keep dragging him along like this. She didn’t want to reach the point where Cameron’s love diminished as his true self became prominent, perhaps at the birth of her son. It was one thing to say you would stick with someone and see things through. It
was another to see the responsibility staring at you in the face, giving flesh and solidity to insubstantial words. The more Aleshia contemplated it, the more she convinced herself that whatever happened, she needed to cut Cameron out of her life. She couldn’t string him along, couldn’t delude herself, and didn’t want to risk the little stability she had finally obtained.
Fueled with this conviction, she phoned up her sister to convey her new plans in life. “Hey, Vaneese.”
Vaneese sounded harassed as she responded. A squeal of indignation piped up in the background – likely from Amy. “Hey, Aleshia. Can you phone me back in a sec? I just have a mess to clean up from my brat.”
“I erased Peter’s number,” Aleshia said without preamble. She wanted to say it before Vaneese hung up, in case her bravado faded the moment the call ended.
There was a pause. “I’m keeping the line on. One second.” Footsteps receded. “Amy! No. What have I told you about doing that?”
A hysteric wailing filled Vaneese’s end of the phone, even as Vaneese said briskly, “I told you. You do this, you pay the consequence. Don’t think for a second you’re wriggling out of it! Cry and scream as much as you want, but you must learn – it’s not okay to do things like this!”
Two minutes later, in the muffled quiet that followed Amy’s new position in her room, with the additional cluttering sounds of favorite toys being removed, Vaneese returned to the phone. “Right. That’s sorted for now. She’s getting better, but she has lapses. I can’t forego punishments, though. She needs to learn. I don’t want her turning out as the teenager from hell when she grows up.”
“Yeah,” Aleshia replied, thoughts elsewhere, already debating whether to stop the call or not.
As if sensing her intentions, Vaneese said, “Stay with me. Tell me what’s happening. You said you deleted Peter?”
