[Kendall]Camden pulls away from me, breathing in deeply like he’s been holding his breath, and moving his fingers out of me before lining up. He taps one of my hips while I’m still gasping.“Turn over,” he demands. “Want to see that ass of yours jiggling against me.”I do as he says immediately, turning over and getting up on all fours, spreading my thighs. He pushes into me almost instantly, and I moan loud and long.His cock stretches me out from a whole other angle, deeper and harder than before, and I can’t stop moaning. Camden grunts, thrusting forward, and I brace myself on the headboard. It slams against the wall as he fucks me, rough and insistent, and I’m glad we don’t have any neighbors because they’d definitely be hearing us.“Fuck me,” I gasp, feeling my walls tightening around him. “Fuck me hard, Camden.”“Don’t have to ask me twice,” he groans, slamming his hips against my ass, his balls hitting against my clit until I come again, shuddering and clenching around him.H
[Camden]“That’s it,” Kendall says. “It’s official.”I look up from my coffee, the warm, nutty aroma filling the kitchen. She’s standing in front of the open refrigerator, light spilling around her, wearing one of my T-shirts that just barely covers her thighs. The curve of her ass peeks out from under the fabric, and I stare, unabashedly, at the perfect view.After all, we’re kind of playing house right now, so I’m allowed, right?This whole setup will change when we’re back home, but for now, it feels dangerously like a life we could almost call our own. “Stop looking at my ass and listen to me,” she says, frustration in her voice as she shoots me a scolding look over her shoulder. I laugh, the sound echoing softly through the quiet, secluded house.“Okay, principessa. What’s wrong?”“We’re officially out of all food products,” she says with a huff, crossing her arms as she looks into the empty shelves. Her bare feet tap lightly against the cool tile, her brows furrowed. “You’ve g
[Camden]I don’t feel safe going to the corner store. Somewhere in public might be better, so I head to a big box store further up in this small town. “Why did you want me to come with you?” Kendall asks, something odd in her tone.“Maybe I’d miss you,” I mumble.“Really?” she asks with a grin.“No,” I confess, laughing. “I just worried that Marco might have someone waiting outside. I want you with me so I can protect you.” “Of course,” she mutters. For a moment, I think she’s upset, but then she smiles, and the tension dissolves.Kendall takes most things in stride. More and more, I’m seeing how different she is from Elora.Inside, she grabs a cart, pushing it as I trail behind her, feeling like her shadow. We pile it high, racking up a ridiculous amount of groceries.She picks out a few clothes too, glancing back with a small smile as she slips a couple of items into the cart without showing me. I can only hope some of them are lingerie.We hit nearly five hundred dollars by check
[Kendall]I sit at the table, absently watching Camden as he moves around the kitchen. The rhythmic chopping of vegetables, the sizzle of onions in the pan, is oddly calming.“I never learned to cook,” I admit, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “My father did all the cooking.”Camden glances over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “Can’t boil water?” he asks, teasing.I huff, half-laughing, half-defensive. “I can make boxed stuff,” I argue.He groans dramatically. “Your Italian ancestors must be rolling around in their graves when you say that.”I laugh lightly, but it’s tinged with something sad, something nostalgic. “Maybe.”Camden’s gaze drifts over the living room, where my clothes are scattered across the floor. His mouth quirks into a half-smile as he eyes the mess.“You don’t clean, either?”I pout, the teasing jab cutting deeper than I care to admit. “I do, just haven’t gotten around to it,” I say, trying to brush it off with a shrug. “My legs still don’t work.”He
“I just wanted to know if you have a girlfriend,” I ask, my voice small, unsure, as if the very question is stupid–It probably is though.Camden bursts into laughter, the sound deep and genuine, but I feel small under the weight of it. “Absolutely not.”I blink, my chest tightening. “Really? You don’t?”He shrugs, still grinning. “You know about my reputation, Kendall. You know that I don’t do relationships.”I hum softly, unsure how to respond. “Doesn’t mean you don’t have a girl who’d get mad if she knew you said that,” I tease, but the uncertainty lingers. I need to know.“Maybe,” he says with a grin. “But I don’t. Not right now.” His gaze turns intense, locking with mine. “What about you? Do you have someone at home?”“Don’t you think Elora would have told you about it?” I say, trying to deflect the question, but my voice wavers.He shrugs again. “She keeps your secrets.”“She does? News to me,” I mutter under my breath, unsure if I believe that. Camden’s eyes are still fixed on m
[Kendall]"Just close your eyes," he says. His voice sounds thick, wet, almost dripping with blood. "It'll be over soon.”~~~I wake up screaming bloody murder, the sound tearing out of my throat, raw and jagged. This time, I can’t hide it from Camden—he has to pull me into his arms, holding me tight, calming me down with his warmth, his touch.I’m trembling all over, my skin cold and clammy despite being wrapped in Camden’s strong arms. My breath is shallow, each inhale sharp and shaky as if I can’t quite pull enough air into my lungs.“What happened? Principessa, what’s wrong?” he asks, his voice urgent, rough with worry. His hands rub my back in slow, soothing circles, grounding me. Each circle is like a reminder that I’m here, with him, safe.“A dream,” I breathe, forcing the words out as I struggle to catch my breath. “Just a bad dream.”Camden’s brow furrows, shadows deepening the worry in his eyes as he studies me, scanning my face with a mix of concern and something else—somet
[Camden]It’s becoming more and more clear to me that Marco isn’t going to get himself caught, and that I’m going to have to go after him. The realization is heavy, a deep ache that settles in my gut, twisting uncomfortably. I tell myself it’s because I don’t want to be stuck in safehouses or looking over my shoulder when I get home, but I know, deep down, that it’s not that.I want to kill him myself for what he’s done to Kendall. The anger is a sharp, electric pulse under my skin, coursing through my veins with every heartbeat. He’s broken her in many ways, and she seems dimmer after those nightmares—her face pale and damp with sweat in the dim morning light, her eyes darkened by the shadows of memories she shouldn’t have to carry.He’s taken a bright young girl and handed her something to be afraid of, a constant, lingering fear. I hate him for it with a depth that surprises me.It’s not because I have feelings for Kendall. That’s not possible. I don’t get feelings for women, but I
“Fuck,” I curse again, running a hand through my hair, watching her walk out onto the terrace where the pool glistens under the midday sun, the water casting faint, rippling shadows across the patio. She clearly needs some space, and I know I have to give it to her, even if my chest tightens as she walks away.I head out to the car and pull my guns from under the seat of the truck, feeling the cool weight of them in my hands. Back in the quiet of the living room, I set everything down on the coffee table and begin cleaning them, the sharp, metallic scent mixing with the faint smell of coffee and the fresh citrus from Kendall’s shampoo that still lingers in the air.The rhythmic motion of wiping and reassembling the guns steadies me, lets me focus on something other than the lingering ache of our earlier argument.But really, what do I expect? She heard me say that I’m stuck with her.Anyone’s feelings would be hurt.After about half an hour, I let out a groan, putting down the guns an
“Of course,” I answer quietly.“Please!” adds Melanie. “It’s good vibes only at this table. We don’t need your mopey energy.”I keep an eye on Hazel as she climbs the stairs, wondering if letting her mother stay here is the best thing for her after all. Melanie was never a great parent to Hazel, but it seems like since she’s come back she’s worse. She ignores Hazel or treats her as an unwelcome stranger. It’s as if the minute Hazel turned eighteen—or rather, shortly before she turned eighteen, when she decided to leave her and go to New Mexico—Melanie just washed her hands of her daughter.Downstairs on the sectional after dinner, I toss and turn. I spent as much time cleaning the kitchen after dinner as I could tolerate, Melanie drinking wine and yapping at me the entire time. When I couldn’t take it anymore I told her I was going to bed and she gave an exaggerated pout.“I thought we could talk, Xavi About things.”“About money, you mean,” I’d responded bitterly. “You’re not getting
For a terrifying moment, I think it’s an accusation, but then I see the imploring look on her face, and understand the innocence of the question. It’s just Melanie performing jealousy to try to get her own way. She could care less if there’s someone else sharing my bed.“Maybe there is,” I tease. “This isn’t like before, Mel. I’m done.”She tilts her head and traces a finger over her shoulder, deliberately drawing the other strap of her tank top down. Her breasts, still full and round without a bra on, are temptingly obvious under the skimpy shirt. “How about a final hurrah, then? For old time’s sake?”“No. I said I’m done. Go back downstairs.”She pouts, rolling her head back in frustration. The gesture is so like Hazel it makes me ache for her. Then she flounces back over to the bed and throws herself down on the unoccupied side. Her side.“I can’t sleep downstairs, Xavi It’s too quiet. And you’re going to wake me up when you start using all that heavy gym equipment. Can’t I just sl
Her voice is a warm, honeyed purr, and in the pale light filtering through the curtains I can just make out to her long, wild curls.“Baby,” I respond, grateful and relieved.She giggles and climbs onto the bed, straddling me in the darkness, and I reach for her legs, finding the firm, muscled flesh of bare thighs and running my hands up towards her hips. She feels good. The heat and pressure of her body against mine makes my cock thicken.“Mm,” she murmurs, rolling her hips against me and trailing her fingers down my arms. Her forwardness surprises me. Hazel’s usually a bit more shy, but I like it. After the stress of the evening, I need her touch, need her closeness.“Sweetheart,” I groan, squeezing my eyes closed and lifting my hips up against her. The pressure of her body, and the friction of the covers as they slide against the underside of my hard cock makes me shiver. I slide my fingers further up her thigh, underneath flimsy fabric, until I’m cupping her bare ass. I dig my fin
Dinner is predictably awful. Xavier sets the pizza box on the table with three plates and opens a beer. It doesn’t escape my notice that he doesn’t offer Melanie one.We sit in our usual spots: Xavier and I across from each other, and Melanie at the head, and the mood around the table is disjointed and weird. There’s a heavy energy between Xavier and I. We’re stilted and silent. But Melanie is completely indifferent. She’s positively incandescent as she talks about how great it is for the three of us to be back together again, and how New Mexico was just “faaabulous!”“You would love New Mexico!” is the first thing she says to me when we sit down at the table—as if I had the opportunity to go and opted out. “For an artist like you, it’s so inspirational. I swear I did some of my best painting work out there. Oh! I need to show you The Faces of Love. That’s what I call it. It’s a painting of Cathedral Cliff—get it? Rock faces?”I don’t react at all, and I don’t have to. Melanie doesn’t
HazelI lower myself slowly onto the couch, too stunned to know what to do. From downstairs, I can hear my parents’ voices, which means they’re being loud—the house is so soundproof.Melanie’s here. She’s back. And I have no idea what that even means.Are we supposed to go back to the way things were before?The doorbell rings again, and it takes me a minute to even remember that we’ve ordered a pizza. It feels like hours have passed since Melanie arrived at the door. It feels like years since Xavier picked me up from school, his eyes dark with lust, asking to see my panties.This past month with Xavier has been the best month of my life. For the first time ever, I truly had Xavier all to myself. In the past, Melanie was always on the horizon. Even if she was off on one of her ‘sprees,’ cheating on Xavier with some dirtbag, he was still distracted and distant, his thoughts and energy still pulled in her direction. But this time, creating a naughty, secret world of pleasure together, i
“Of course I do! She’s my daughter.” For a moment, I almost believe her. For a moment, I’m almost relieved to think that she might actually love Hazel after all.“But I’ve been going through a lot,” she continues, and the illusion shatters. Melanie doesn’t care about anybody but herself. “I’ve been going through a lot, but I’m doing the work, you know? I’m figuring a lot of stuff out. Stuff that I wish I could have figured out a long time ago, so that I never would have hurt you the way I did. I wish, I mean…I wish I could undo those things, Xavi I know I fucked up, and I’m sorry.”I don’t say anything. Months ago, I wanted to hear those exact words more than anything. Despite everything that had happened, shortly after Melanie left, all I wanted was for her to come back. I had delusional notions about how we could rescue our relationship, how the cheating would stop if I could just understand her better, if I could just love her harder.But eventually I realized that life without Mel
She grins broadly and stretches out her arms to me. “I’m back, baby!”“No.” I shake my head. “No. I filed for divorce. There’s no back. You’re in my house.”She tilts her head patiently, as if I’m being unreasonable. “Xavi, we’re not divorced yet. This is my house.”Damn this woman. It’s been two minutes and already I want to punch a hole in the wall.“Yes,” I bite out. “We’re not divorced because my lawyer couldn’t find you to serve the papers. You’ve been missing for two months. What the hell are you playing at?”She casts a meaningful look at Hazel lingering in the hallway and then says in a theatrical whisper, “Could we have a moment alone? To talk?”The last thing I want to do is succumb to any of her demands, but I would also prefer to spare Hazel hearing whatever it is her mother might have to say. My jaw gripping with tension, I nod towards the doorway to the basement stairs.“We can talk downstairs. Honey,” I turn to Hazel. “Your mom and I are going to have a quick chat in pr
Hi Xavi- can you call me at this number pls?I don’t know if this is still your # I assume it isI need to talk to uI’ll try your office # tooBest friends with Susie from your office now lol!! She’s greatBut call me if u get a chanceThe fact that she called my office and spoke to Susie makes me nervous. Susie’s my very chatty Admin Assistant. I wonder what information Melanie could be looking for that Susie might have given her.Dropping the phone back into my pocket, I realize I have no energy for making dinner.“Sweetie,” I call out to Hazel. “I’m going to order pizza for dinner.”“Yay!” she calls out from the dining room table, flashing me a bright smile.I open my own computer at the dining room table as we wait for the pizza to arrive, trying to hide my distracted thoughts behind the screen. I’m not sure if I should tell Hazel about the texts. Does she worry about her mother? Would she want to know that Mel reached out to me? Or would she wonder why Mel hadn’t reached out to
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Bob eyeing Cynthia with a hungry gleam. There’s a taut, ready energy to him that I can just sense, as if he’s fixing to jump on her. She uncaps her bottle and watches us back with a half-smile.“Well,” I say, hoisting my mug. “Back at ‘er, I guess. See you both later.”Cynthia smiles at me, but Bob doesn’t take his eyes off her.***When I pull up to the school that afternoon, Hazel is waiting by herself on a bench near the curb. I’m pleased to see she’s alone—pleased especially that there’s no sign of Kye. Her hair is in the two neat braids I set it in this morning, and she’s the agonizing picture of innocence: white knee socks, black shoes, plaid skirt and white blouse. She’s the quintessential innocent schoolgirl. Her face lights up when she sees me, crystal blue eyes shining, and her uncomplicated joy, her pure love for me, makes me feel raw, tender, and sensitive.When she gets into the car, I lean over and kiss her cheek, inhaling the cotton ca