Miranda Jeferson. Peter Parkers ex-girlfriend, who he had broken up with under the impression that he would keep her safe. She had gotten caught up in his mess and ended up with a sprained ankle. Yes, it wasn't a serious injury, but she had gotten hurt because of him. Because she was helping him. Peter felt guilty.
Then he saw her in the record shop, completely healed. Looking for a new record to add to her collection. 'She loves her vinyls.' He thought to himself. Feeling someone staring at her, Miranda looked up. Directly into Peters' eyes. She glanced back down, rifling through the old albums, trying to ignore him.
Peter knew it was time to talk to her. He misses her. He worked up the courage to go up to her, feeling exactly the same way he did when the first time he spoke to her.
âHey M.â Peter greeted.
âHi Peter.â Miranda spoke, not looking up from the vinyls.
They stood in an uncomfortable silence until Peter spoke up again,
âSo, how are you?â He asked.
âDo you really care?â She rebutted.
âI've always cared.â He answered.
âSo you breaking up with me while I was in the hospital, was you caring?â Miranda snapped lowly with a scoff while moving to the next row of records.
Peter walked with her, âYes. You got hurt because of me. I can't let that happen again. Seeing you in the hospital really put things into perspective for me, I don't ever want to see you hurt. Ever.â He stepped closer to her, putting his left hand on her right cheek. Their eyes connected, so much emotion behind them.
âI understand that, but it wasn't your choice to make.â Miranda sighed.
âI-I know. That wasn't- it wasn't fair to you.â Their faces were mere inches apart.
âI love you, Peter. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone else in this entire world. I know that because of that, I wouldn't change anything. It was just a sprain, Peter.â She leaned into his hand.
Peter leaned in and kissed her. When he pulled away, he bit his lip while letting out a low moan. Miranda wore a look of surprise.
âWhy did you do that?â She quizzed, a dazed look in her eyes.
âI couldn't stop myself. How do you feel?â He asked.
âLike I want you to do it again.â Miranda spoke softly.
So he did. This time tonguing her down in the middle of the aisle. She moaned into his mouth, making him do the same.
âHey! Buy something and leave, or just get out!â The cashier yelled at the pair.
They pulled away, laughing as they left. Miranda would go back another time. As they walked, Peter took it upon himself to start joking aroundâŚ
âSo you love me?â He smiled.
âI don't know what you're talking about.â She tried to play it off.
âYou said you love me more than anyone else in this entire world.â Peter slung an arm around her shoulder.
âShut up.â Miranda giggled and lightly pushed him away from her.
âI love you, too. It's just⌠I can't guarantee your safety if we do this again.â
âWell, it's a good thing I make my own choices. Iâm choosing you, you just have to choose me.â She said smoothly.
Peter grabbed her hand, âI am choosing you. I just have to keep you out of whatever is bound to happen as best I can.â
âI agree, but if I can help you, I will.â She told him sternly.
He smiled, âOkay. Are we really doing this? We're getting back together?â He was shocked that she was even entertaining him.
âYes. And don't you ever pull that shit again.â Miranda voiced, not leaving any room for discussion.
âOkay.â Peter laughed while pulling her into a hug, âI love you.â He avowed into her hair.
âI love you.â She breathed.
âMore than you've ever loved anyone in this world.â Peter smiled widely.
Miranda pushed him off of her again. Peter cackled from behind her as she walked away.
âCome on, Baby! I was joking!â He called after her as he jogged to catch up with her. He stopped in front of her, grabbed her chin and gave her a big wet kiss. âI'm sorry. Iâm done.â He chuckled.
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In which Ledger learns he's worse off without his wife...
pairing : dasha 'wonder' ward x ledger ward
warnings : dasha getting her lick back chile
Dasha exhaled and squeezed her eyes shut, but the breath did not travel far enough, did not reach the places inside her that had gone tight and wild with panic. Behind her, the bass from the building kept thudding through the walls in heavy, merciless pulses, each one landing at the base of her skull like a second heartbeat she had never asked for, loud enough to rattle her thoughts loose and send them skittering in every direction. The night air felt wrong on her skinâtoo thin, too sharp, too unable to hold the sheer weight of what had just been dropped on her chest. She pressed a hand to herself as if she could physically keep her ribs from splintering apart around the chaos inside them and counted the way Melinda had taught her, the way Melinda always told her to do when the world started tipping on its axis and her body forgot that breathing was supposed to be ordinary. One⌠two⌠three⌠one⌠two⌠three⌠and again, and again, and again, her lips barely moving around the numbers, each repetition more frantic than the last, not soothing but desperate now, like she was trying to stack little paper-thin integers high enough to climb out of herself.
Breathe, Dasha. You need to breathe.
She could hear Melindaâs voice as clearly as if the woman were standing beside her, palms warm and steady on either side of her face, speaking to her in that low, grounded tone that always seemed to come from somewhere older than panic, somewhere wiser than fear. Count. Slow down. Stay in your body. But her body had become the problem. Her body was the riot. Her lungs kept catching halfway, snagging on something jagged in her chest before they could fill properly, and every inhale felt too small, too late, like trying to sip air through a cracked straw while the whole world closed in around her. Her fingers had gone cold. Her knees had gone watery. Even her heartbeat felt deranged, no longer beating so much as battering itself against her ribs like a trapped bird bloodying its wings against the bars of a cage.
Why wasnât it working?
That was the part making the panic sharper, meaner. These were the steps. This was the method. This was the good, sensible, sober-woman toolkit she had spent years building with shaking hands and clenched teeth and more discipline than most people would ever understand. Count. Breathe. Name five things you can see. Feel your feet on the ground. Remember where you are. Remember who you are. But what the hell was the breathing exercise for when your husband cheated on you? What tidy little grounding technique was meant to carry the weight of that sentence? What sponsor-approved mantra was supposed to patch the hole blown clean through the center of a woman when the person she had built her safety around became, in one brutal turn, the very thing her nervous system could not survive?
The thought tore through her again and suddenly the air felt even thinner. Her stomach dipped so hard she thought for one sick second she might be physically ill right there in the dark, might fold in half and empty herself onto the pavement while the music behind her kept playing as if the world had not just split wide open. Her throat tightened. Her eyes burned hot. She dragged in another breath, and it shuddered all the way down, ragged and uneven, before escaping her in a broken little gasp that sounded nothing like calm and far too much like grief.
Because that was the cruelest part of panic, wasnât it? It made everything immediate. It would not let her process this in graceful little increments, in digestible emotional courses. No, it shoved the whole thing into her bloodstream at once and let it gallop. Ledger. Her husband. Ledger, with his hands and his vows and his mouth and his forever. Ledger, who knew exactly how her mind worked when it got dark. Ledger, who knew what seven years sober had cost her. Ledger. The name itself had become unbearable, a prayer turned poisonous in her mouth, and Dasha pressed the heel of her hand harder to her sternum like she could physically pin the pain down, like she could stop it from spreading if she caught it quickly enough.
But it spread.
God, it spread.
It climbed her throat, sat behind her eyes, curled icy fingers through her spine. Every memory of him seemed to rush her at once, not soft and sweet but sharp now, weaponized by the fresh horror of contrast. His laugh in the kitchen. His hand on the small of her back. His voice calling her Wonder like it meant something holy. Their bed. Their vows. The terrible ordinariness of all the places she had loved him. It all came at her in a flood so vicious she could hardly separate the past from the present, could hardly tell whether she was choking on betrayal or on the fact that she still, humiliatingly, loved him while doing it.
âOne⌠two⌠threeâŚâ she whispered again, but her voice was fraying, the numbers dissolving on contact with the ache. She bent forward, bracing her hands on her knees, trying to pull air down into lungs that seemed to have forgotten her on purpose. The concrete beneath her feet felt unsteady, the whole world tilting by imperceptible degrees, as if the night itself had become unreliable. Somewhere behind her a burst of laughter spilled from the building, bright and careless and cruel in its normalcy, and Dasha could have screamed at the sound of it. How dare the world remain intact. How dare there still be music, still be laughter, still be people moving through the night untouched, when inside her it felt like every beam and rafter of her life was coming down at once.
But the moment was exactly the problem. The moment was a house fire. The moment was a blade. The moment was the unbearable, animal realization that the person she would have reached for in distress was the very person who had caused it, and there was no breathing exercise in the world for that kind of treachery. No grounding method for when home itself turned hostile. No neat little recovery phrase for when the safest place in your life developed teeth.
A sob clawed halfway up her throat before she swallowed it back down, but it stayed there, burning, alive, making her chest hitch with the effort of containing it. She straightened only to have dizziness rush her so hard she had to lean against the cold brick wall behind her, palms flat against it, desperate for something solid, something that would not move, would not lie, would not become unrecognizable in the span of a single night. The brick bit cool into her skin. Good. Real. Here. She latched onto it because it was not him, because it could not betray her, because right now even the wall was more trustworthy than the man whose name still lived in the center of her chest like a cruel joke.
And still her body would not calm.
Still her pulse ricocheted.
Still her mouth went dry.
Still every breath came in thin, ragged strips.
Dasha squeezed her eyes tighter and counted again, not because it was helping, but because stopping felt worse, because the numbers were the only thin thread she had left connecting her to the version of herself who knew how to survive. One⌠two⌠three⌠one⌠two⌠three⌠her mind snagging, resetting, falling apart and trying again, the repetition turning almost prayer-like in its desperation. Not graceful. Not serene. Just raw survival. A woman trying to count herself back into her own body before grief and panic carried her somewhere too dark to find the way out of.
And all the while, underneath the counting and the trembling and the violent, shivering effort to keep breathing, one brutal thought kept flashing like lightning behind her eyes, splitting everything open each time it came:
What were you supposed to do, exactly, when the love of your life became the reason you could not catch your breath?
She heard the door slam open behind her, the sound cracking through the night like a gunshot, sharp enough to make her shoulders seize before she ever turned around. And then, almost immediately after it, came something far more familiar and far more devastatingâthe scent of him, that old mix of cologne and clean skin and the warm, unmistakable musk of Ledger, a smell that had once soothed her on instinct, had once wrapped itself around her frayed nerves and coaxed them quiet, had once meant home so completely that her body used to soften at the first trace of it. But now it only made her stomach drop, made something inside her twist and recoil, because there he was, the same man with the same scent and the same face, and somehow none of it meant safety anymore.
So Dasha looked up at him with her eyes rimmed red, lashes damp and clumped from the tears she had not been able to outrun, her mouth trembling with the sheer effort of staying upright through this, and LedgerâGodâLedger faltered.
He actually faltered.
His step broke mid-motion, and he took one back as though the sight of her had struck him square in the chest. As though her pain had reached out with a hand and shoved. Something in his face shifted so fast it was almost frightening, the anger and confusion and whatever half-formed words he had come out there carrying falling away in an instant, leaving only naked, horrified recognition behind. Because Dasha looked wounded in a way he had never wanted to be responsible for, not once in this life, and the awful truth of it hit him all at once: he was.
Something inside his heart cracked open then, not loudly, not cleanly, but in that slow, sickening way ice gives beneath too much weight, a fracture spreading faster than the eye can follow. Because no, he had not cheated in the crude, easy-to-name way people always imagined, had not crossed that final physical line that let cowards comfort themselves with technicalities and semantics, but emotionallyâemotionally was another story, uglier for how long he had let himself pretend otherwise. Grief had gotten into his bones and stayed there like rot, gnawing and gnawing until it hollowed him out from the inside, and instead of crawling back toward his wife, instead of collapsing where he belonged, instead of laying that grief at the feet of the woman who had loved him faithfully through every ugly season of his life, he had wandered. He had left her standing there with her hands still open and poured the worst parts of himself elsewhere.
Into Kenna.
Into Kenna.
The very name felt profane in the moment, heavy and bitter in his mind, because she was not just some harmless emotional detour, not just some neutral shoulder to lean on while he figured his mess out. No, she was the woman who had brought the original devastation roaring into all of their lives in the first place, the woman whose choices had detonated everything, the woman who got behind that wheel and turned one reckless, irreversible moment into a grave. The woman who had killed Scotty.
And Ledger, in all his broken, guilt-ridden stupidity, had let his pain circle back toward the very source of it as though grief were some diseased thing trying to return to its point of origin. He had let himself become tangled in old sorrow and old guilt and old ghosts, and in doing so he had abandoned the living, breathing woman who had been right there, right there, loving him through it, waiting to be chosen over the wreckage.
So when he looked at Dasha standing there with her back half-braced against the wall as though even the air had become too unstable to trust, with her chest rising in sharp, fractured little pulls and her face blotched from panic and hurt, he saw it for what it was at last. Not a misunderstanding. Not a lapse in judgment he could later explain into something smaller. But abandonment. Emotional abandonment in its cruelest form, because he had not left her by walking out the door; he had left her while standing close enough to still call himself her husband.
And that realization moved through him like punishment.
Because Dasha had always been home, always been the one place his grief should have gone to be laid down and softened and held, but instead he had made her stand outside the house of their marriage knocking, wondering when he had locked the door. He had taken the woman who had loved him best and made her feel secondary to a ghost-choked mess she had never asked to compete with. And now here she was in front of him, all tear-streaked proof and trembling devastation, and Ledger understood with a kind of soul-deep horror that he had done the one thing he would have sworn on his life he never could:
he had made his wife look shattered because of him.
And then he saw it.
Not just the tears, not just the red-rimmed eyes or the way her face had gone blotchy with crying, but the deeper, more dangerous thing beneath all of itâthe way her breaths were coming too fast and too shallow, the way her chest kept rising only to stutter halfway, as though the air itself had become something her body no longer knew how to trust. Her fingers were trembling where they pressed against the brick, not with ordinary anger, not with the clean shake of adrenaline after a fight, but with something far less containable, something raw and involuntary and spiraling. Even the look in her eyes was wrong. Too wide. Too glassy. Too far away and too close all at once.
Ledgerâs entire body changed.
The grief. The guilt. The defensive little scraps of pride that had still been hanging off him by threads. All of it dropped clean out of him in the space of a heartbeat, because thisâthis he recognized with terrifying clarity. He knew this version of Dasha. Knew the awful, hunted look that came over her when panic got its hands around her throat and started squeezing. Knew the way she would try to fight her own body first, as if discipline alone could drag her back under control, as if counting and breathing and digging her nails into her palms hard enough could stop the tide once it had already come in too far.
âBaby,â he said, and his voice came out lower than before, stripped of every hard edge, every trace of argument, until it sounded like what it truly was: fear trying very carefully not to become another threat. âHey. Hey, look at me.â
But her eyes darted past him instead, wild and unfixed, and something hot and sick turned over in his stomach.
She wasnât really seeing him. Not fully. Not yet.
Ledgerâs heart dropped so hard it felt like it might crack a rib on the way down. Because he knew, in one horrible flash, that she was not just crying over him now, not merely hurt, not merely furiousâher body had gone into revolt. Her nervous system had taken the betrayal and translated it into emergency, into danger, into run or break or disappear. And that knowledge lodged inside him like shrapnel, because what kind of man stood there and watched his wifeâs body reject the very air around her because of something he had done?
âDasha,â he said again, softer this time, but firmer too, trying to lace steadiness through the terror rising in his own chest. âYouâre having a panic attack.â
The words seemed to hang between them for a second, plain and heavy and undeniable.
Her mouth parted, and another ragged breath caught there, useless and frayed, and when she finally looked at him, really looked at him, there was something so nakedly frightened in her expression that it damn near brought him to his knees. Not because she was weak, not because panic had made her small, but because Dasha had always fought so hard to stay in control of herself that seeing her lose that battle in real time felt like witnessing something sacred being dragged through the dirt.
âOh, baby,â he whispered, and the endearment broke in the middle.
He moved then, but slowly, every instinct in him forced into a kind of trembling discipline, because he knew better than to crowd her, knew better than to lunge toward panic and expect it not to lash back. So he lifted his hands where she could see them, open and empty, his voice dropping into the low, careful register he used only for her in moments like this, the one that never demanded, only guided.
âIâm right here,â he murmured, as though he could build a bridge back to her one syllable at a time. âIâm not gonna touch you unless you tell me to, okay? But Iâm right here. You hear me? You are not by yourself.â
Dasha sucked in another breath that went nowhere, her shoulders hitching with the effort of it, and Ledger saw panic flash brighter in her eyes at the failure. That, more than anything, lit a fresh kind of horror through him. Because once the breathing stopped working, once her own body started feeling like an unreliable machine, Dasha would begin to panic about the panic, and that was when it turned vicious. That was when the fear fed itself.
He remembered it all at onceâthe nights before, years ago, when sobriety was still newer and thinner and sheâd shaken like this from things she couldnât name fast enough, the way Melinda had told him never to argue with the panic, never to tell her to calm down as if calm were a switch she was too stupid to find, the way Dasha needed anchoring and choices and something solid enough to keep her from floating clean out of herself.
So Ledger forced his own voice steady, though his pulse was kicking like hell inside his throat.
âListen to me, Wonder,â he said, and this time the nickname was not soft or sexy or sweet. It was purposeful. Familiar. A handhold made of sound. âDonât worry about taking a big breath. Donât do that. Just stay with me. Small ones, baby. Small is fine. You donât gotta prove anything.â
Her face crumpled harder, because of course it did. Of course the tenderness in him would break through where logic couldnât.
He swallowed against the ache climbing up his throat and took one careful step closer.
âThatâs it,â he said, as though she had already succeeded just by remaining upright. âThatâs it. Keep your eyes on me if you can. If you canât, thatâs alright too. Just listen.â
The bass from inside kept pounding stupidly through the wall behind them, vulgar and careless and far too loud for what was happening out here, and Ledger shot the building a look so dark it could have scorched paint, but there was no time for fury, no room for anything except her. Only her.
âYou remember what Melinda says?â he asked, gentle but deliberate, pulling her sponsor into the space because he knew Dasha trusted that voice even when she couldnât trust her own mind. âFeet on the ground, baby. Feel the ground. You ainât floating. You ainât falling. Put both feet down for me.â
Dasha blinked at him, dazed, tears spilling fresh, but he saw the tiny shift anywayâthe way her body obeyed before her thoughts fully caught up, her feet planting a little more firmly against the pavement as if his words had reached some part of her still capable of taking instruction.
âThere you go,â he whispered immediately, praise falling from him like prayer. âThatâs my girl. Good. Good.â
His chest hurt with it. With the terror of seeing her like this. With the shame of knowing he was the reason. With the unbearable softness of still wanting to comfort her even when he hated himself most.
âLook at that wall,â he said quietly, nodding toward the brick behind her. âFeel it, Dasha. Itâs cold, ainât it? Real cold. Stay with that. Tell me itâs cold.â
For a second he thought she might not answer, that she might already be too far under it, but then her lips parted and the word came out thin and shaking.
âCold.â
Relief punched through him so fast it was almost dizzying.
âYeah,â he said, his own voice roughening despite his effort. âYeah, thatâs right. Cold. Good. Stay there. Feel that.â He took another careful half-step, still giving her room, still making himself smaller than every instinct demanded. âCan you tell me something else you feel? The ground under your shoes maybe. Your rings. Your jacket. Anything, baby. Just something real.â
Dasha pressed harder into the wall as if it were the only honest thing left in the world and tried for another breath. It came jagged, but it came.
âThe wall,â she whispered.
âI know,â Ledger said immediately, because agreement mattered, because panic hated being argued with. âYou got the wall. You got the ground. You got me right here.â
At that, her eyes snapped back to him, wet and furious and frightened in equal measure, and for one awful second he thought she might say not to count on that, might tell him he had forfeited the right to be included in any list of stabilizing things. But she didnât. Maybe she couldnât. Maybe panic had burned past pride. Or maybe some battered little part of her still knew that even shattered trust did not erase muscle memory overnight, that her body still recognized him as the man who had once talked her through the dark.
The realization nearly destroyed him.
Because there he stood, being trusted in the middle of the very harm he had caused, and it felt less like mercy than indictment.
âGood,â he whispered again, though his voice had gone ragged now. âThatâs it. Thatâs it, Wonder.â
Dashaâs hand flew to her chest, fingers splayed there as though she could physically force her heart to slow down, and Ledger had to bite back the instinct to catch her, hold her, fix it with his hands. He wanted to sweep her into him so badly his arms actually twitched with it, but he held himself still because this was not about what he wanted. This was about what she could survive.
âYou want me closer?â he asked, each word chosen with excruciating care. âOr you want me right here?â
Her throat worked. Another trembling inhale. Then, barely louder than the night breeze, âCloser.â
The permission shattered something in him.
Ledger moved at once, but gently, so gently it looked like pain, until he stood close enough for her to feel his warmth without being crowded by it. He did not touch her, not yet, only braced one hand beside her on the wall, careful to keep his body angled, giving her an opening, a way out, a choice. Always a choice.
âThere,â he murmured. âIâm closer.â
Her eyes fluttered, and one broken sound slipped out of her, almost a sob, almost relief.
âYouâre okay,â he said, though he hated how hollow that phrase always sounded and hurried to fix it. âNoâlisten to me. You are panicking, but you are okay. This will pass. I know it feels like it wonât, but it will. Iâve got you. Iâve got you.â
And God, the phrase hurt him, because maybe he didnât. Maybe that was the whole point, the whole wound, the whole ugly truth of tonight. But he said it anyway, because right now his self-loathing could wait its turn. Right now her body needed something steadier than his guilt.
Dashaâs breathing was still shallow, but the rhythm had begun to change by the smallest degree, not calming exactly, but becoming less chaotic, less like an animal hurling itself against a locked door. Ledger watched it with the concentration of a man trying to keep a lit candle alive in a storm.
âThatâs it,â he kept murmuring, each phrase a thread tossed toward her. âSmall breaths. You donât gotta force it. Let it come how it comes. Stay with the wall. Stay with my voice. Thatâs all.â
A tear slid down Dashaâs cheek and dropped from her jaw, and the sight of it made something inside him ache so fiercely he could hardly stand upright beneath it. He had seen her cry before. Seen her hurt. Seen her furious. But panic was different. Panic made her look hunted by something invisible, and knowing he had put that look on her face felt like a brand pressed straight to the center of his chest.
He lowered his voice further, until it was almost a murmur meant for only the tiny space between them.
âIâm sorry,â he whispered, but not in the needy, forgiveness-chasing way of earlier, not trying to make this moment about his absolution. This was simpler. Rawer. âIâm so sorry, baby. Stay with me first, and then you can hate me all you want. Just stay with me first.â
Dasha let out a shaking exhale, and this one, this one finally sounded a little more like air and a little less like breaking.
Ledger closed his eyes for half a second in relief so profound it bordered on pain, then opened them again immediately because he couldnât afford not to witness her through it.
âThatâs it,â he said, almost reverently. âThere you go.â
And he stayed there with her in the dark, the bass still thudding like a cruel second pulse behind them, the night wind cooling the sweat at the nape of her neck, his own heart raw and split wide open inside his chest, until the panic began, by degrees, to loosen its hand from her throat and remember that she was still here, still on the ground, still breathing, still his wounded, furious, beautiful wife, and not yet lost to him entirely.
Dasha shoved him back before the last of the panic had even fully left her body.
Not hard enough to send him sprawling, but hard enough to make a point, hard enough that Ledger stumbled a half-step and looked at her with that stunned, offended expression men wore when they had forgotten that grief did not cancel out the damage theyâd done. Her chest was still heaving, her eyes still wet, her nerves still sparking ugly beneath her skin, but now the fear had curdled into something hotter, something sharper, something with teeth.
âDonât fucking do that,â she snapped, swiping angrily at her face with the heel of her palm, smearing tears and fury together until they became the same thing. âDonât stand there and talk me through a panic attack like you ainât the nigga who caused it.â
Ledgerâs face hardened at once.
The softness that had just been there, the careful, terrified tenderness, went tight at the edges, not gone completely, never that, but dragged under by his own hurt. âSo what, Iâm just supposed to leave you out here choking on air?â he shot back, his voice rough, incredulous, his chest still rising too fast from his own fear. âThat what you wanted? Me to watch you fall apart and walk my ass back inside?â
âWhat I wanted,â Dasha laughed, and the sound that came out of her was ugly and broken and mean in a way laughter should never be, âwas for my husband not to make me feel like a side character in my own damn marriage.â
That landed.
Ledgerâs jaw flexed so hard she saw the muscle jump.
âAnd what the fuck was Calvin then?â he fired back, the name coming out like heâd been holding it in his mouth for hours, maybe days, waiting for the chance to spit it. âSince we saying shit plain now. What was that, Dasha? You inviting that nigga around like Iâm stupid, like I canât see him damn near panting every time you walk past?â
Dasha stared at him, then let out a breathless, disbelieving sound. âAre you deadass right now?â
âIâm very deadass,â Ledger snapped, stepping toward her before checking himself. âThat nigga was all up in your face at your practice, all up in your orbit, and you sat there acting like Iâm crazy for clocking it. Calvin is supposed to be my former friend, and you inviting him around knowing good and damn well that man want you.â
âOh, so now you care?â Dashaâs voice rose, sharpened by disbelief, by hurt, by the kind of fury that came from being accused by the very person who had handed her humiliation first. âNow you care who want me? Now you care who looking at me? Ainât that some shit.â
Ledgerâs eyes flashed. âDonât do that.â
âNo, nigga, you donât do that,â she shot back, jabbing a finger into the air between them like she could pin the accusation there and make him choke on it. âYou do not get to stand here and act territorial now. You do not get to be mad about Calvin having a crush on me when you was over there playing emotional house with Kenna.â
âI was not playing houseââ
Dasha barked out a laugh so sharp it practically cut the night in two. âOh, please. Please. Save that shit for somebody dumber than me.â
Ledger dragged a hand over his mouth, already looking like he regretted opening this door and was still too pissed to close it. âYou know what, fine, maybe Calvin ainât touch you, maybe nothing happened, but you knew what you was doing bringing him around me like that. You wanted a reaction.â
âYeah,â she spat, taking a step closer, her whole body trembling now not from panic but from rage, âI did want a reaction. You know why? Because apparently thatâs the only way to get through to your ass. Apparently I gotta put another man in the frame for you to remember Iâm your wife.â
That one hit so cleanly his whole face changed.
For one split second she saw it, the hurt underneath the anger, the part of him that had never once seriously imagined another man with access to her. But then the moment was gone, swallowed by the ugliness of the fight.
âSo thatâs what this is?â Ledger said, voice low now, dangerous in that quiet way that always meant he was one good sentence away from saying something irreversible. âYou wanted to make me feel what you felt, so you paraded that nigga around?â
Dasha folded her arms over herself like it was either that or shake apart. âYou left me out there by myself, Ledger. You left me standing there looking stupid while you played grief-stricken martyr withââ
âWith Scottyâs baby mama,â he cut in, sudden and hot. âThatâs who the fuck you talking about, in case you forgot.â
âOh, I ainât forget shit,â Dasha said, and now her voice had dropped too, become quieter, which somehow made it far worse. âI ainât forget she Scottyâs baby mama. I ainât forget she the one who got behind that wheel. I ainât forget she the one who killed your best friend. What I canât figure out is why you seem to forget it every time she bat her lashes and say she sorry.â
Ledger recoiled like sheâd slapped him.
âWatch your mouth.â
âOr what?â Dasha snapped immediately. âOr what, Ledger? You gonâ defend her some more? You gonâ tell me how hard it is for her? You gonâ tell me I just donât understand her pain?â Her mouth twisted, mean and trembling. âMaybe I should be more compassionate, right? Maybe I should be more like you and your perfect girl.â
Something dangerous flashed in his eyes.
âDonât,â he warned.
But Dasha was too far gone now, too hurt, too bent on dragging him into the same wasteland he had left her in.
âNo, letâs talk about it,â she said, her voice suddenly bright with that brittle kind of fury that always meant a person was closest to breaking. âYou and your perfect girl. Thatâs what this is, right? Poor Kenna. Sweet Kenna. Broken Kenna. The woman who fucked up everybodyâs life but still somehow got you looking at her like she the saddest bitch in the room.â
Ledger took a step toward her then, eyes blazing. âWatch how you talk about Scotty.â
Dashaâs face went still in the most dangerous way.
âDonât you dare put Scotty on me right now,â she said softly, and the softness made even Ledger pause. âDo not do that. Scotty has nothing to do with the fact that you stood there and made room in your heart for the woman who killed him while your wife was right there begging not to be made a fool.â
Ledgerâs chest rose sharply.
âYou donât know what the fuck you talking about.â
âThen enlighten me,â she said, spreading her hands mockingly. âPlease. Enlighten me. Tell me what deep, noble reason made you forget you had a woman at home.â
âIt wasnât about forgetting you!â
âOh, but it was,â Dasha shot back, tears springing fresh to her eyes as her voice cracked down the middle. âMaybe not on purpose, maybe not in whatever twisted story you tell yourself to sleep at night, but thatâs exactly what the fuck it was. You forgot me. You forgot us. You forgot what it meant to protect what was yours.â
Ledger looked like he wanted to deny it, wanted to argue it down into smaller language, but something in his face betrayed him before his mouth could. Dasha saw it and laughed again, weak and devastated and vicious.
âYeah,â she whispered, nodding at him like a woman watching the final piece click into place. âThatâs what I thought.â
âDashaââ
âNo, âcause Iâm really trying to understand you,â she said, cutting him off with a slice of her hand through the air. âIâm trying to understand how the nigga who swore up and down I was home somehow found comfort in the same woman that left Scotty dead.â
Ledgerâs whole body went rigid.
âThat is not what happened.â
âIt ainât?â She tilted her head, tears hanging from her lashes, mouth cruel with pain. âSo what do you call it, then? Since you always got a better name for the ugly shit you do.â
He stared at her for a long, hot second, breathing hard through his nose, then said the one thing he shouldâve kept to himself.
âAnd what do you call running off with Calvin waiting in the wings?â
The silence after that was immediate and catastrophic.
Dashaâs face changed.
Not because the line was good.
Because it was cruel enough to find a wound and press.
âCalvin was never waiting in the wings,â she said, each word clipped now, trembling with restrained rage. âCalvin was a reaction. A stupid, petty, lowdown reaction, and you know it. But you?â She touched her chest. âYou felt real. Thatâs what make this shit hurt different. You felt real.â
Ledgerâs mouth opened, but Dasha was already shaking her head, already backing away from him now like the sight of him had become too much to survive up close.
âYou know what the sickest part is?â she asked, voice breaking all over again. âI wouldâve forgiven a one-night fuck-up faster than this. Do you hear me? I wouldâve had an easier time wrapping my mind around some random bitch than watching you slowly, carefully, intentionally invest yourself in her.â
Ledger looked like that sentence took a chunk out of him.
But pain did not make people kinder.
Not always.
Not when they were trying to be understood by force.
âYou invited that nigga around to hurt me,â he said, quieter now, but still hard. âSo donât sit there acting like you above any of this.â
Dashaâs eyes widened.
Then narrowed.
âYou know what, you right,â she said, nodding too quickly, the motion frantic and offended. âI did want to hurt you. I wanted you to feel crazy. I wanted you to feel sick. I wanted you to know what itâs like to be standing in front of somebody you love and wonder if you even matter.â She laughed, tears falling freely now. âDifference is, I couldnât go through with it. I let that man look. I let him hover. I let you clock him. But I couldnât become you. Thatâs the difference.â
Ledger flinched like sheâd driven something sharp right between his ribs.
The pause that followed was ugly. Breathing. Tears. Bass still throbbing stupidly in the background. The whole world carrying on while they stood outside gutting each other in the dark.
Then Ledger said, very quietly, âYou think you the only one hurting?â
And Dashaâs expression turned almost pitying, which was somehow worse than anger.
âNo,â she said. âI think youâre hurting so bad you dragged me down with you and then expected me to stay pretty while it happened.â
That did it.
Whatever thread of control had been holding the conversation together snapped clean.
âI never asked you to stay pretty,â Ledger bit out. âI asked you to understand.â
âAnd I did!â Dasha shouted, the force of it tearing right through her throat. âI understood you right into another woman, nigga, and look where that got me.â
âKenna is not âanother woman,ââ he snapped back, immediate, instinctive, fatal.
The second the words left his mouth, both of them heard it.
Both of them knew.
Dasha went deathly still.
Then she laughed â once, short and unbelieving, the sound of a heart finally giving up on being handled gently.
âOh,â she said.
Ledgerâs face drained. âDashaââ
âOh, no, thatâs perfect.â She nodded, tears shining on her cheeks like something lit from within. âThat is perfect, actually. âKenna is not another woman.â Wow.â Her hand went to her chest like she was trying to hold herself together by force. âYou hear yourself? Do you fucking hear yourself?â
âThatâs not what I meant.â
âBut it is what you said.â She smiled then, small and broken and brutal. âAnd maybe thatâs worse.â
Ledger stepped toward her. âTake the ring off your tone and listen to what Iâm saying.â
At that, something in Dashaâs face cracked wide open.
âMy tone?â she repeated, almost laughing. âMy tone is your issue right now?â
She looked down at her hand then, at the ring glinting there under the thin spill of light from the back door, and her breathing changed again. Not panic this time. Something colder. Decision sharpening in real time.
Ledger saw it a second too late.
âDashaââ
âYou know what?â she said, her voice suddenly quiet, which scared him more than if sheâd screamed. âYou can have all of it. You can have your grief. You can have your guilt. You can have Kenna, Scotty, all them damn ghosts you keep choosing over the living.â Her fingers reached for the ring with frightening steadiness. âSince you so busy being everybody elseâs savior, you can save your damn self too.â
His eyes dropped to her hand.
âDonât do that.â
But Dasha was already twisting it off, her hands shaking now, not because she didnât mean it, but because she did.
The ring came free.
The sight of her holding it there between two fingers nearly made Ledger lunge, every instinct in him going violent with refusal, but pride and shock nailed his feet to the ground for one fatal second too long.
âDasha.â His voice cracked on her name. âDonât.â
She looked at him then, really looked at him, and whatever he saw in her face made his own go stricken.
âI loved you right,â she whispered. âAnd you made me feel disposable.â
Then she threw the ring.
It hit him square in the chest before dropping to the pavement between them with a sound so small it should not have been able to split the night the way it did.
Ledger stared at it like he didnât understand what he was looking at.
Dasha didnât wait for him to recover.
Didnât wait for him to beg.
Didnât wait for him to explain.
Didnât wait for him to say one more thing that might make this even uglier.
She turned and walked away, fast at first, then faster when she heard him say her name behind her in that torn, disbelieving voice, the one that sounded like he was only just now realizing how far heâd pushed her. The bass from the building kept pounding. The night kept moving. Her vision blurred. Her chest hurt. But she did not stop.
And behind her, Ledger stayed rooted to the spot for one long, ruined second, staring at the ring at his feet like it was the physical shape of his own stupidity, gleaming under the light like a severed promise.
Then he bent, slow as grief, and picked it up.
But by then, Dasha was already gone.
That had been three weeks ago nowâtwenty-one long, punishing daysâand still no one knew where Dasha had gone. It was as though the earth had opened beneath her feet and swallowed her whole, neat and final, leaving behind nothing but absence and the shape of her where she used to be. At first, Ledger had expected the silence in the petty, familiar way a hurt husband expected silence; he had expected an unanswered call, a phone shoved deep into the bottom of a bag, maybe a day or two of her refusing him the mercy of her voice, refusing him access to the damage he had caused. He had even expected not to find her at home, had pictured the dark apartment, the empty side of the bed, the closet with a few things missing just to let him know she meant it. But one day became two, and two slid sickly into three, and by then the silence had changed flavors entirely. It was no longer punishment. It was dread.
That was when he started calling people.
Not casually, not with pride intact, but with the fraying urgency of a man whose mind had begun to split itself open around every possible worst-case scenario. He called her sponsor first, because sobriety sat at the center of all his fear now like a lit fuse. He called her friends. He called coworkers. He called anybody who might have heard from her, seen her, gotten so much as a one-word text. Hell, he even called MayaâMaya, her person, her day-one, the woman Dasha trusted like blood and breath and homeâand when she said she had not heard a damn thing, something cold and primitive took root in Ledgerâs gut and refused to move. Because if Maya did not know where Dasha was, then Dasha had not just left him. She had vanished.
No one knew where the hell she was.
By the fifth day the police were involved, and there was something so surreal, so obscenely wrong about standing there answering questions about his wife as though she were a case file instead of a woman who still left conditioner in the shower and hair ties on the bathroom counter, as though she were not supposed to be somewhere breathing and rolling her eyes at him and making the world feel less hostile by merely existing in it. They found her car abandoned near a bus station, quiet and ordinary and empty in a way that made his skin crawl, and there were no signs of a struggle, nothing dramatic enough to soothe him with certainty, nothing except the kind of eerie blankness that let the imagination roam wild and rabid. Then the CCTV footage surfaced, grainy and cruel in its mundanity, and there she wasâhis wife, his Wonder, his whole damn life packed into one hooded silhouetteâgetting onto a bus with her honey-blonde wefts tucked up beneath a hoodie like she was trying to disappear inside herself, trying to become small enough to slip through the cracks of the world unnoticed.
They tried everything after that.
God, they tried.
Cards were tracked, accounts were checked, statements were combed through with the kind of obsessive precision people reserved for disasters they were still pretending might not be disasters at all. They found one cash withdrawal, just one, from an ATM still in town, which somehow made it worse, because it meant she had thought ahead, had given them almost nothing and then vanished with deliberate, aching intelligence. After that, there was nothing. No trail. No purchases. No transactions lighting up a screen somewhere to say here, here she is, sheâs here. The money disappeared into cash and silence, and Dasha seemed to disappear with it.
She was gone.
Gone in a way that made absence feel sentient, like it had hands, like it had chosen him specifically and was now sitting on his chest day and night just to feel him choke. Ledger was losing his damn mind, and the worst part was that he had to keep doing it in public, had to keep standing upright while terror hollowed him out from the inside. Every ring of his phone made his heart stop. Every unknown number felt like a threat. Every hour that passed without news grew heavier, uglier, less survivable. He stopped sleeping properly, because every time he closed his eyes his mind offered him some fresh horror to wake intoâDasha hurt, Dasha drunk, Dasha dead, Dasha hating him enough to make herself unreachable forever. Grief had once gnawed at his bones; now fear climbed inside the hollowed-out places grief had left and made a nest there.
And the most maddening, most soul-splitting part of it all was that none of this felt accidental. Dasha had not merely run. She had erased herself with precision. She had made herself smoke.
Before the ring hit his chest, before the bus station footage and the police and twenty-one days of silence that made Ledger feel like he was being skinned alive from the inside out, there had been the bar.
It had been one of those loud, overfull nights where the whole place seemed to breathe as one animal, all heat and laughter and clinking glass and bass heavy enough to vibrate through the wood beneath your feet. Bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder near the front, the low amber lighting throwing everybody into softer, meaner versions of themselves, making eyes linger too long and smiles look more intimate than they were. The bar always had a pulse, but that night it had one nasty enough to get under the skin. It thudded in the walls. It lived in the floorboards. It turned every glance into a provocation.
Dasha had felt off from the moment she walked in.
Not visibly. Not in any way most people wouldâve clocked. She was too good at carrying herself for that, too practiced in the old art of looking composed while something hot and ugly curdled beneath the surface. She wore that soft, dangerous kind of beauty she carried so naturally it seemed almost incidental, honey-blonde hair falling just right, gold at her ears, mouth glossed and set in that line Ledger knew meant she was not in the mood to be played with. She should have looked at home there. The bar had long since become one of the maps of their marriage, one of the places where their lives overlapped so completely it felt impossible to separate one from the other. But that night, standing in the warm dimness of it, with the room packed and voices crashing over each other and Kenna somewhere in the orbit of the building like a ghost wearing skin, Dasha felt less like a wife and more like an intruder in a place she had once helped make soft.
And then Calvin walked in.
He was easy to spot because he did not belong to the room the way the regulars did, did not wear the easy, familiar slouch of men who had been folded into the barâs rituals over years. Calvin carried himself like a man used to cleaner spaces, better lighting, the clipped professionalism of hospital corridors and conference rooms, and yet even in that darker, louder environment he looked entirely too comfortable the second his eyes landed on Dasha. Tall, handsome in that polished, doctor way, a little too neat, a little too aware of how handsome he was, Calvin had the sort of face women trusted too fast and men distrusted on sight. And the second he smiled at her, Ledgerâhalfway down the bar drying a glassâfelt something black and immediate uncoil in his chest.
Because Calvin did not just smile.
He lit up.
That was the part that made Ledgerâs fingers still around the towel, made the muscle in his jaw jump once before he mastered it. Calvin looked at Dasha the way men looked at women they had already spent too much private time thinking about. Not disrespectfully, never openly enough to be called out cleanly, but with that unmistakable softness around the eyes, that fraction-too-long hold of attention, that quiet greed disguised as friendliness. It was there and it was subtle and it was enough.
Dasha saw Ledger see it.
And maybe that should have been the moment she shut it down more firmly, should have stepped a little farther back, should have put more distance into her smile or more chill into her voice, but hurt made petty little cowards out of good people sometimes. Hurt made women with broken hearts let a compliment linger one second longer than they normally would just to see if a man they loved would finally look up and remember what was his. So she smiled at Calvin, not big, not bright, but warm enough. Let him come close enough to speak over the music. Let him stand there in her orbit with that attentive expression on his face while Ledger watched from the other side of the room and felt jealousy arrive ugly and alive.
âYou made it,â Dasha said.
Calvin gave a little half laugh. âYou invited me.â
There was nothing wrong with the sentence itself, but the way he said it put heat around it, made it sound like an honor, like a line heâd replayed before he got there. Dasha felt the glance from behind the bar before she looked. Ledger was no longer pretending not to pay attention. His face had gone still in that dangerous way of his, the stillness that meant whatever he was feeling had become too potent for easy expression.
Calvin, oblivious or pretending to be, leaned one forearm against the edge of the bar and looked down at her with that polished concern he wore so well. âYou okay? You look tired.â
Dasha almost laughed at the question because tired was the cleanest word anyone could have chosen for the wreckage inside her. âLong week,â she said.
âThen let me buy you something.â
Ledger was at their section of the bar before the sentence had fully settled.
âWhat she drinks, I got it,â he said, voice easy enough on the surface, but there was a blade under it, thin and bright and impossible to miss if you knew him.
Calvin looked up. There was history there, old male familiarity gone sour, the stale remains of whatever friendship had once made this encounter simpler. âLedger.â
âCalvin.â
No handshake. No smile. Just two names laid down like cards in a game everybody already knew was fixed.
Dasha felt the room shift, or maybe it was only her body doing the shifting, tightening with that ugly awareness that comes when a private wound begins threatening to show itself in public. She watched Ledger set a mocktail in front of her, matcha and vanilla and milk, the old ritual done with maddening precision, his hand steady even now. Anyone else would have looked at it and seen care. Dasha looked at it and felt briefly, viciously like she was being managed.
Calvin glanced at the drink, then back at her. âStill making these?â
Ledger answered before she could. âYeah. I am.â
Something in Dasha flared.
Maybe it was the possessiveness in his tone. Maybe it was the way he could remember exactly how she liked her mocktail and still somehow forget to protect her in the ways that actually mattered. Maybe it was simply that everything in him felt too familiar and too infuriating all at once. Whatever it was, she lifted the glass and took a sip, then looked at Calvin over the rim.
âSo,â she said, âhowâs your practice?â
Ledgerâs eyes cut to her.
Calvin, encouraged, launched into some story about work, one of those doctor anecdotes told in broad strokes and tired humor, and Dasha listened just enough to answer while the real conversation in the room happened elsewhereâin the glances, in the silences, in the fact of Ledger polishing the same section of bar too long while pretending not to watch how close Calvin stood. At some point Calvin touched her elbow lightly to emphasize a point, brief enough to be deniable, and Ledgerâs whole body changed. Dasha saw it. Of course she did. The line of his shoulders sharpened. The air around him cooled by several degrees.
Then, because the universe was in no mood for mercy, Kenna laughed somewhere behind him.
It was not a loud laugh. Not flirtatious, not even aimed at him necessarily, just the sound of her in the building, alive and present and stitched once again into the fabric of a place Dasha had once thought belonged safely to her marriage. But Ledger turned his head at it on instinct, and that was all it took. That tiny, thoughtless motion. That split second of his attention going elsewhere while Calvin stood right in front of Dasha looking at her like he would wait as long as he needed to.
Dasha went cold.
There it was.
The whole damn wound in miniature.
Ledger looking one way, another man looking at her, and Dasha sitting in the center of it feeling simultaneously too seen and not seen at all.
Calvin said something thenâshe never remembered later whatâbut she gave some answer by reflex, already elsewhere in her head, already feeling the floor inside herself tilt. Across the room, Ledger had turned back, eyes immediately finding her again, and maybe he saw it on her face, that hard, glittering look women got right before they either shut down or burn everything to the ground, because he muttered something to the other bartender and came around the end of the counter.
âDasha,â he said quietly.
She looked at him. âWhat?â
âCome here a second.â
Calvin straightened, sensing the shift at last. âEverything good?â
Ledger didnât even glance at him when he answered. âWe good.â
Dasha laughed once, a small sharp thing. âAre we?â
That got his attention fully.
The bass kept pounding. The room kept moving. Somebody at the far end of the bar shouted for another round. Kenna passed by with glassware and did a quick double take at the tension in the air before wisely disappearing. And there, in the middle of all that noise, Ledger looked at his wife and knew with the sick certainty of a man already too late that if they didnât move this somewhere private, something ugly was about to happen in front of God and everybody.
âBack. Now,â he said under his breath.
Dasha held his gaze for one long second, then turned to Calvin with a smile so thin it looked painful.
âExcuse me.â
She followed Ledger through the side hallway and into the back, each step making the walls feel closer, the music louder, her pulse faster. By the time the door swung shut behind them, sealing them into that narrow strip of shadow and stale cool air, they were both already bleeding from places neither had bothered to bandage. He started with Calvin. She answered with Kenna. He said one cruel thing. She said two. Scottyâs name got dragged in. So did loyalty. So did humiliation. Every sentence after that was less about being understood than about being felt, about taking the hurt swelling in your own chest and hurling it bodily at the person in front of you just so theyâd stop standing there intact.
The air hit her hard.
Cold, thin, useless.
Ledger sighed and dragged a hand down his face, rough palm scraping over the beard shadow at his jaw as though friction alone might wear the last three weeks off him, might peel the panic and shame and sleeplessness from his skin and leave behind the version of himself that still knew how to stand upright without effort. A tired breath left him, heavy and worn thin, the kind of exhale that sounded less like release and more like surrender temporarily postponed. The ring hanging from the chain around his neck rested hot against his chest, a small, merciless weight that never seemed to settle no matter how long he wore it there, and if anything, the metal only made the ache worse, because every time it pressed into his skin it reminded him that his wifeâs wedding band now lived where a cross or dog tag mightâve gone, close enough to his heartbeat to torment it properly.
Roman watched him from across the office with one dark brow lifted, long legs kicked out, beer untouched in his hand because even RomanâRoman, who usually treated seriousness like an allergyâknew the room was too tense for pretending. The whole bar had quieted around Ledgerâs misery over the last few weeks in that strange, unspoken way places did when the man at the center of them had stopped being able to fake alright. Kenna was gone now, fired clean and final, her name practically unspeakable in the building unless somebody wanted their head bitten off, and still none of it had fixed anything. Getting rid of her had not brought Dasha home. It had not rung Ledgerâs phone. It had not softened the raw place under his sternum where fear had made a home and started paying rent.
Roman tipped his head and said, with the maddening calm of a man who knew he was right and planned to enjoy it, âYou are aware⌠this is your fault, right?â
Ledger did not even look up.
âNo shit, nigga,â he muttered, thumb dragging down the screen of his phone once more to refresh the banking notifications, because apparently there was still some pathetic, superstition-soaked part of him that believed if he checked enough times, the universe might get tired of punishing him and hand him somethingâone transaction, one clue, one sign that Dasha was somewhere buying water or gas or a pack of gum and still moving through the world with her pulse intact. But again there was nothing. No new charges. No card activity. No neat little digital breadcrumb to follow. Just the same blank silence staring back at him, cold and smug in its refusal.
Roman took a slow sip, more for something to do with his hands than because he wanted it, and let the silence stretch. He had always had that irritating ability to sit inside another manâs discomfort without rushing to rescue him from it. Maybe that was why Ledger had not kicked him out yet. Maybe because Roman, for all his bullshit and all his well-documented weakness for women with rings on their fingers, had enough sense to understand that now was not the time for jokes half as much as it was the time for honesty so blunt it bordered on cruelty.
âYou checkinâ that app like you can bully it into giving you an answer,â Roman said after a minute, his voice quieter now, less sarcastic, though the edge of it remained. âShe took cash, Ledger. She wanted to disappear.â
Ledgerâs jaw flexed.
âI know what the fuck she wanted.â
âDo you?â Roman asked, and that landed harder than either of them pretended. ââCause from where Iâm sitting, you understood what she wanted way too late.â
That made Ledger finally look up, slow and tired and dangerous, eyes bloodshot from too many nights spent half-awake and wholly haunted. There was a meanness living just beneath his skin these days, not because he was naturally cruel, but because fear had stripped him down to the ugliest, most reactive version of himself and left him there too long. He looked like a man who had not properly come down from a fight in twenty-one days. Like a man whose body had forgotten what peace felt like and now distrusted every quiet room it entered.
Roman, to his credit, did not back down.
The thing about Roman was that everybody knew he had a type, and that type included women who belonged to other men, especially women who carried themselves with that unavailable, donât-play-with-me elegance that made weaker niggas mistake challenge for invitation. Married women, older women, women already built into somebody elseâs life deep enough to have become infrastructureâRoman loved all of it, loved the complication, loved the ache of wanting what was out of bounds. And Dasha, with her soft mouth and sharp mind and that old-money composure wrapped around a body warm enough to make a man stupid, had always been exactly the sort of woman Roman would orbit if Ledger werenât in the picture. Hell, maybe even because he was. But Romanâs thing for Dasha, like his thing for all married women, had long ago become one of those truths everybody acknowledged by not acknowledging too hard. It lived in the extra half-second of his greetings, in the way heâd say âMama Stevieâ with entirely too much fondness when she came around, in how his gaze sometimes lingered just long enough for Ledger to clock it and Roman to grin like the devil had taught him manners.
But even that had lines.
Roman wanted women who were unavailable, yes, but he was not stupid enough to mistake Dashaâs grace for softness. He knew, as every man with functioning sense knew, that her loyalty to Ledger had not been performative. Dasha had loved that nigga down to the bone. Which meant watching Ledger fumble her was irritating in the exact way only another man with eyes could understand.
Roman leaned forward, elbows to knees, bottle hanging from his fingers. âYou know what kills me?â he said. âNot even the Kenna shit by itself, though that was some nasty work. Itâs that you made Dasha feel embarrassed. Thatâs the part women donât forgive easy, especially not women like her. You can hurt they feelings and maybe live to tell it. Humiliate âem?â He shook his head slowly. âThat shit get engraved.â
Ledger looked back down at his phone because if he kept looking at Roman too long he was liable to put his fist through something, and the bar had already suffered enough collateral damage from his temper these last few weeks. The office lamp cast a hard yellow glow across the desk, over stacks of invoices nobody had properly touched, over an ashtray that shouldnât have been there because he didnât smoke, not really, but terror made hypocrites and habits out of men in equal measure. The bass from the main room thudded faintly through the wall, dulled now by distance and the late hour, but still present enough to feel like memory. This office had seen too much of him latelyâtoo much pacing, too much drinking coffee he didnât taste, too much staring at surveillance footage and call logs like they were scripture that might yield new meaning if he begged hard enough.
Roman sighed.
âDiem asked for her again today.â
The words struck Ledger low.
His shoulders stiffened before he could help it, and for a second the chain around his neck seemed to grow ten pounds heavier. Of all the knives this whole situation had left lying around, that one cut deepest. Not the cops. Not the PI. Not the endless humiliating calls to people who didnât know where his wife was. Diem asking for âMama Stevieâ in that little clear voice of hers, like Dasha was supposed to materialize at the mention, like the world could still be fixed by the arrival of one person, that was what turned Ledger inside out.
Roman, seeing heâd finally landed somewhere honest, continued more carefully. âGrace said she kept askinâ if Dasha was mad at her. Patrick had to take her outside after dinner.â
Ledger shut his eyes.
A curse left him under his breath, jagged and bitten-off, and he set the phone down before he threw it. His hand went to the chain again on instinct, fingers curling around the ring until the edges bit his palm. He welcomed the bite. Pain with a location was easier than this wide, shapeless shit.
âShe ainât mad at Diem,â he said, voice low and raw enough to make the sentence sound like it had been dragged over concrete. âShe would never be mad at that baby.â
âI know that. You know that.â Roman shrugged. âSix-year-olds donât know that.â
Ledger opened his eyes and stared at the blank wall across from him like he could shame it into becoming a map. âIâm gonna find her.â
Romanâs brow lifted again, but this time there was less mockery in it than concern. âYou keep sayinâ that.â
âAnd I mean it every time.â
Roman rolled the bottle once between his palms, thoughtful now, measuring how much truth the room could take before it turned ugly again. âWhat if she donât wanna be found yet?â
That made Ledger laugh, though there was nothing humorous in the sound. It came out flat and rough, a blade with the shine sanded off. âWhat she want ainât the only thing mattering right now.â
Roman held his gaze. âSee, that right there is part of your problem.â
Ledgerâs expression hardened. âMy problem is my wife disappeared.â
âNo,â Roman said, and his tone sharpened just enough to show teeth. âYour problem is that even now, when she gone and you losing your damn mind, a part of you still talking about her like a storm you gotta outlast instead of a person who got driven clean out her own life.â
The room went tight.
For a moment it looked like Ledger might explode, might stand up too fast and let all that sleepless fury go somewhere stupid, but instead he leaned back in the chair and scrubbed both hands over his face again, slower this time, like exhaustion had finally outpaced rage. When he spoke, his voice had gone quieter.
âYou think I donât know that?â
Roman said nothing.
Ledger laughed once more, smaller now, more broken than bitter. âYou think I ainât been replaying every damn second of that night? Every look on her face? Every word that shouldâve stayed in my mouth? You think I donât know I pushed her so far she decided vanishing was safer than speaking to me?â He dropped his hands and looked at Roman then, and the nakedness of the expression wouldâve startled anybody who didnât know him well. âNigga, I know.â
Romanâs jaw shifted.
The mini-crush, the flirtation, the little spark of male envy heâd always felt around Dasha, all of that receded in the face of what Ledger looked like now. Because this was not just a husband missing his wife. This was a man being eaten alive by the knowledge that the same person he wouldâve set the world on fire to protect had run from him like he was the blaze.
âThen act like you know,â Roman said at last. âStop checking the bank app every ten seconds like money finna tell you something her heart been screaming for months.â
Ledgerâs mouth tightened.
Roman pressed on, because he could, because somebody had to, because if men didnât force ugly truths on each other every now and then theyâd all drown in their own dumbass pride and call it weather. âYou want her back? You better understand what you really took from her. Not just trust. Not just respect. Home. You made home feel shaky. Dasha of all people? A woman like that? She ainât built to live in no emotionally raggedy-ass house.â
That one sat between them for a long moment.
Out in the bar somebody laughed, a burst of sound too normal for the grief inside the office. Glass clinked. Music rolled on. The world, as always, remained offensively uninterested in any one manâs private apocalypse.
Ledgerâs hand dropped from the chain and found his phone again, not to refresh the app this time, but to unlock an old photo by muscle memory alone. Roman saw the screen before Ledger tilted it away: Dasha on the barstool in one of his old hoodies, no makeup, hair half done, looking over her shoulder mid-laugh while fries sat untouched in front of her. Roman went quiet at once. Some things, even for him, were too intimate to watch without feeling like a trespasser.
Ledger stared at the picture like a starving man staring through restaurant glass.
âShe looked at me,â he said after a while, voice so low Roman almost missed it. âThat night before she threw the ring. She looked at me like I was the last nigga on earth she wanted to know.â
Roman shifted in his seat. âShe was hurt.â
âI know she was hurt.â Ledgerâs thumb moved once across the screen, a useless caress. âBut that look? That look said she ainât recognize me no more.â
There it was.
Not the surface grief.
Not the anger.
The real wound.
Roman leaned back and let his head knock once against the wall. âThen maybe thatâs what got found first,â he said. âNot her location. You. Maybe the man she married gotta show up before she do.â
Ledger cut him a look. âYou been hanging around therapists?â
âNah.â Romanâs mouth twitched faintly. âJust around married women.â
Despite himself, despite everything, the corner of Ledgerâs mouth almost moved. Almost. It died before it became anything usable, but Roman clocked it and took the small win.
âShe always knew you was rough around the edges,â Roman said more softly. âAlways knew you could be jealous, possessive, stubborn, all that caveman shit. That ainât what sent her running. Itâs that she could usually trust where your loyalty lived. Then you got weird, emotionally homeless, and started acting like grief entitled you to make everybody else collateral.â
Ledger looked away.
Roman rose at last, setting the bottle down on the desk with a dull little thud. He lingered there for a second, studying his former friendâthe man with his wifeâs ring hanging over his heart like a punishment he insisted on carrying by hand.
âFor what itâs worth,â Roman said, âI donât think she gone gone.â
Ledger looked up sharply. âWhy?â
Roman shrugged one shoulder. âBecause if Dasha wanted to disappear forever, none of us wouldâve found that car. That bus station was sloppy on purpose. Felt like she wanted a head start, not a funeral.â
Ledger held very still.
Hope was a dangerous thing by then, thin and cutting and liable to make a man do stupid shit, but Roman saw it flicker anyway, bright as a match-strike behind all that wreckage.
âYou really think that?â
âI think,â Roman said, pausing at the door, âthat she wanted you scared. I donât think she wanted you burying her.â
And with that, he left Ledger alone with the dim office light, the hum of the bar beyond the wall, and the ugly little miracle of a possibility. Ledger sat there for a long time after Roman was gone, phone in one hand, ring at his chest, fear still gnawing but no longer entirely shapeless. Outside, the city kept breathing. Somewhere out there, Dasha was breathing too. He had to believe that. Had to hold onto it with both hands or lose what was left of his mind altogether.
So he opened the banking app one more time, not because he believed in miracles, but because grief made rituals out of hopeless things, and stared at the empty feed until his vision blurred. Then he closed it, opened her photo again, and whispered into the stale office air like the night itself might carry it to wherever sheâd hidden herself:
âCome home, Wonder.â
And for the first time in twenty-one days, the plea sounded less like ownership and more like a man standing outside the ruins of his own making, finally understanding that home was never the building.
It was her.
And then, on the twenty-first day, when the silence had grown so swollen and monstrous it no longer felt like time passing so much as punishment taking shape, Ledgerâs phone lit up.
It happened late, almost obscenely late, at that dead, suspended hour when grief always seemed to get meaner, when the world outside the windows had gone black and still and everything inside him had begun its nightly ritual of tearing itself apart. The bar was closed by then, the stools upside down on the tables, the floors still faintly tacky from spilled liquor and tracked-in rain, the neon sign in the front window casting that weak, tired glow over everything it touched, making the room look less like a business and more like the shell of one. Ledger sat alone at the far end of the counter with a bottle of water he had not opened and his phone face-down in front of him, his whole body carrying the particular stillness of a man who had burned through panic and landed somewhere colder, somewhere worse. He had become practiced in disappointment over those three weeks, had learned to hate the sound of his ringtone and crave it in the same breath, had learned how hope could rise inside a man like a prayer and rot there like fruit left too long in the sun.
So when the screen began to vibrate against the wood, skittering a little under the force of the call, he almost did not look at it.
Almost.
Then he turned it over, and the sight of the numberâone of the fraud and security lines he had spent the last three weeks speaking to until their hold music had branded itself into his nervesâsent every sleeping wire inside him live again. His hand closed around the phone so fast the stool legs scraped against the floor when he stood, the sound splitting the quiet open.
âYeah,â he answered, but the word came out rough, jagged at the edges, as though it had had to claw its way through a throat gone tight with too many nights of imagining the worst.
âMr. Ward,â the voice on the other end said, clipped and professional and devastatingly calm, âweâve got a transaction hit on the card you flagged.â
For one terrible second, Ledger did not understand the sentence.
It landed in pieces, too bright and too impossible, and his mind, so accustomed now to disappointment, rejected it on instinct. A hit. On the card. The card. Dashaâs card. Not the cash withdrawal from three weeks ago that had led nowhere, not another useless automated update to remind him that nothing had changed, but a real-time transaction, recent enough to still have heat on it.
He gripped the edge of the bar.
The wood bit into his palm hard enough to hurt, and the pain was the only thing that kept him from believing he had hallucinated the whole thing.
âWhat?â he said, and this time the word cracked straight down the middle. âWhatâd you say?â
âWe have an authorization request on the account ending in 4421,â the woman repeated, slower now, perhaps hearing something in his silence that made her gentler. âIt just came through. The merchant is listed as Laurel Ridge Market and Fuel, and the location attached is Black Mountain, North Carolina.â
Black Mountain.
The name tore through him like light under a door.
For a second all he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears, loud and hot and immediate, the room around him shrinking until it seemed to hold only that voice and that town and the impossible, impossible fact that after twenty-one days of smoke and static and dead ends, Dasha had become real again. Not safe yet. Not in his arms. Not explained. But real. She was somewhere with pavement and fluorescent lights and a card reader and enough life left in her to buy something.
His knees nearly buckled under the force of it.
âSay it again,â he said, because grief had taught him to distrust joy on sight, because if he was going to believe this, truly believe it, he needed to hear the words until they stopped sounding like mercy and started sounding like fact. âTell me exactly where.â
There was the faint rustle of papers on the other end, the click of a keyboard, and then the woman read it back to him in full, every syllable striking against his chest like a fist.
âLaurel Ridge Market and Fuel. 1148 Highway 9. Black Mountain, North Carolina.â
Exact.
It was exact.
Not a county. Not a blurry surveillance frame. Not some ATM still in town that told them nothing but the shape of her caution. An address. A real, breathing, earthly address. A place he could drive to. A place with a roof and a register and a parking lot. A place where his wife had stood within the last few minutes and handed over a card attached to her name like she had not meant to, like maybe she had forgotten for one exhausted second that every trail she had left behind her had gone cold on purpose.
Ledger shut his eyes, and the relief that hit him was so violent it hurt.
It did not come gentle. It came like a body blow. Like something had had both hands around his throat for three weeks and had finally, finally loosened its grip just enough to let him drag in air. He bent forward over the bar, one hand braced hard against the counter, the other clutching the phone to his ear as his head dropped and his breath left him in one long, broken line.
She was alive.
God.
She was alive.
Not a memory. Not a possibility. Not a woman dissolving by slow, unbearable degrees into the realm of missing persons flyers and police reports and people saying weâre doing all we can. She had bought somethingâwater, gas, gum, he did not careâand in doing so she had reached one small, human hand through the dark and let the world know she was still in it.
He laughed then, or maybe sobbed, or maybe made some ugly sound that belonged to neither category cleanly, because the body did not always know how to behave when relief arrived wearing the face of resurrection. His vision blurred. He pressed the heel of his free hand hard against his mouth and tasted salt there, copper too maybe, because he had bitten himself bloody sometime in the call and had not even noticed.
âMr. Ward?â the woman asked carefully.
âIâm here,â he managed, though he sounded wrecked, sounded like a man who had been dragged backward through hell and was only now noticing daylight. âIâm here.â
She said something else after that about authorizations and whether he wanted the charge allowed to continue and whether law enforcement had been notified, but Ledgerâs mind had already shot ahead in a thousand bright, brutal directions all at once. Black Mountain. North Carolina. He saw road signs before he saw roads, saw himself driving until his eyes bled if he had to, saw the shape of her in some gas station parking lot under fluorescent light, hoodie up, head down, exhausted and furious and heartbreakingly real.
âApprove it,â he said immediately, because the words came to him with absolute certainty. âApprove anything else that comes through. Do not block the card. Donât you touch that card.â
âUnderstood.â
Approve it. Let her spend every dime in the account if that was what it took. Let her buy the whole damn store. Let her charge enough groceries to feed a town if it meant one more breadcrumb, one more proof of life, one more receipt with a timestamp and a location and her invisible little ghost-hand on it.
He ended the call and just stood there for half a second, chest heaving, the phone still clutched in his hand, his reflection staring back at him in the dark mirror behind the bar like a strangerâs. He looked terrible. Hollowed out. Eyes bloodshot. Beard grown in too rough. Grief hanging off him in visible strips. But beneath all of that, for the first time in twenty-one days, something wild and electric had lit inside him.
Hope.
Not the soft kind. Not the careful kind.
The ugly, desperate, dangerous kind that sent men tearing through the night after what they loved.
His body moved before his mind finished catching up. He was around the bar and into the office in seconds, keys in one hand, phone in the other, barking out calls so fast the words nearly tripped over each other. First the detective. Then Maya. Then her sponsor. Then Grace, because if Dasha was alive then a little girl somewhere would not have to keep asking for Mama Stevie into the dark like prayer gone unanswered.
They all answered into the same stunned silence, the kind that comes when people have been living braced for bad news so long that good news feels suspicious at first, almost cruel in its brightness. Ledger gave them the town, the market, the address, his voice still shaking with a force he could not contain.
âWe got a hit,â he said, over and over, like repetition might make the miracle hold. âWe got a hit. Sheâs in Black Mountain. Iâm on my way now.â
By the time he made it outside, the night felt changed.
The same parking lot. The same air. The same indifferent moon hung over the same line of buildings, and yet nothing looked quite as bleak as it had ten minutes ago. Even the cold wind hitting his face felt less like punishment now and more like movement, like the whole world had finally tilted in a direction he could follow. He got into the truck too fast, keys slipping once in his hand because his fingers would not stop shaking, and when the engine turned over, the sound roared through him like an answer.
Black Mountain.
He put the address into his GPS with hands that looked half-drunk from adrenaline, watching the little blue route bloom across the screen like a vein, a lifeline, a map back toward the woman who had made herself smoke and now, by some exhausted accident or divine intervention, had flickered visible again.
Three hours and forty-eight minutes.
He could do that standing on his head.
He backed out of the lot so fast the tires protested, then shot into the road with the kind of reckless focus only love and terror could produce. The city lights peeled away behind him in wet streaks of amber and red, the highway opening up dark and endless before him, and Ledger drove into it like a man chasing the return of his own soul.
On the passenger seat beside him sat her ring.
He had carried it every day since she threw it at him, stupidly, stubbornly, like a talisman or a punishment or both, and now the stone caught a smear of dashboard light every time he changed lanes, flashing at him with every mile as if to say not gone yet, not gone yet, not gone yet.
He looked at it once, just once, and his throat locked so hard around the breath in him that he had to grip the wheel tighter to keep from swerving.
âHold on,â he whispered into the dark, though she was nowhere near enough to hear him, though maybe the words were more for himself than for her, more charm than promise, more plea than command. âJust hold on, baby.â
And the truck ate up the miles while dawn waited somewhere far ahead like a witness.
By the time Ledger turned off the main road and onto the narrow mountain lane that led to the cabin, the sky had gone from black to that strange, bruised indigo that comes just before morning admits what it is. Dawn had not fully broken yet, but it was gathering itself at the edges of the world, pale and watchful, stretching thin fingers of blue over the ridgelines. The mountains rose around him like old, silent witnesses, their shadows layered one behind the other in soft, unforgiving folds, and the farther he drove into them, the more the city seemed to fall away from him in pieces. Streetlights disappeared first. Then traffic. Then the last of the easy noise. What remained was the hum of the engine, the crunch of gravel beneath his tires, and the terrible, pounding certainty of his own heartbeat.
The GPS had gone useless ten minutes back, freezing in place as though even technology had decided this stretch of road belonged to another world, so he drove the last portion by the directions the woman at the market had managed to piece together after he called back half-crazed and breathless, asking if she remembered anything else about the card, the car, the direction Dasha might have gone. A local road. A split in the lane near a rusted mailbox. A weathered cabin tucked back in the trees. He had repeated it all to himself the way a man repeats scripture when he no longer trusts his mind to hold what matters without constant reinforcement.
And then he saw it.
The cabin sat a little way back from the road, half-hidden by tall pine and bare-branched hardwood, its roofline just visible through the trees at first, dark and sloped and almost blending into the mountainside if not for the faint porch light burning weak and gold against the blue of early dawn. It did not look dramatic enough to contain three weeks of his suffering. It did not look haunted, or cursed, or holy. It looked ordinary in the cruelest possible way, just a small weathered place with a gravel drive and a stack of chopped wood under one overhang and smoke curling thinly from the chimney like proof of life.
Proof.
That was the thing that nearly undid him.
The chimney smoke.
A vehicle parked off to the side.
A mug left on the porch railing.
The details were so domestic, so mild, so offensively normal that Ledger had to tighten both hands on the steering wheel to keep the force of his relief from knocking the air right out of him. Because while he had been out there choking on dread, while he had spent twenty-one days imagining morgues and motel rooms and relapse and rivers and every other dark thing a frightened mind could manufacture, Dasha had been somewhere with woodsmoke and coffee and four walls and a front porch.
Somewhere alive.
He killed the engine and the silence that followed rang in his ears.
It was not truly silence, not in the mountains. There was the low rustle of wind moving through the trees, the far-off call of some waking bird, the creak of branches swaying overhead. But after hours of highway noise and the constant static of his own thoughts, it felt almost churchlike in its stillness, the kind that made every movement seem too loud, every breath too heavy. Ledger sat there for one suspended second with his hands still on the wheel, staring at the cabin through the windshield as though it might dissolve if he blinked too hard.
His wife was in there.
Maybe sleeping.
Maybe crying.
Maybe hating him enough to slam the door in his face.
Maybe packing up to vanish all over again the second she saw his truck in the drive.
The thought struck him so fast he moved before it could root. He shoved the door open and got out into the cold, the mountain air hitting him hard and clean in the face, sharp enough to sting his lungs. It smelled like wet earth and pine sap and woodsmoke and distance. Nothing like the city. Nothing like the bar. Nothing like the life sheâd left behind. He stood there for half a second, his boots sinking slightly into the gravel, and had the wild, disorienting sense that he had crossed some invisible border in the night and entered the geography of her hurt.
He shut the truck door more softly than he meant to, as though sudden noise might break whatever fragile spell had allowed him to find her at all, and started up the path.
Every step seemed to land louder than it should have. Gravel shifted. A board somewhere near the porch creaked in anticipation. The cold worked its way through the denim at his knees, through the thin fatigue of his body, but Ledger barely felt it. He was too aware of everything else. The ring in his jacket pocket, heavy as a stone and twice as accusing. The blood thudding behind his eyes. The fact that after twenty-one days of smoke, mystery, fear, and self-loathing, he was now walking toward the literal front door of the place where his wife had hidden herself from him.
He noticed things because he could not help but notice them. A blanket draped over one porch chair. A pair of womenâs boots beside the door, muddied at the soles. A grocery bag folded in on itself near the wall, the market logo bright and stupidly familiar on the side. A ceramic planter with dead mums in it, neglected but still standing. Evidence, everywhere, of ordinary days being lived while he had been going feral with grief.
His chest tightened.
By the time he reached the steps, his pulse was no longer beating so much as battering the inside of him. He mounted the porch slowly, each board complaining under his weight with those old-house groans that always sounded more intimate than a new buildingâs silence. The woodsmoke was stronger here. So was the coffee. Somewhere inside, very faintly, he thought he heard movementâsomething set down on a table, maybe, or a chair leg scraping lightly across the floor.
Ledger stopped in front of the door.
It was painted a faded green, chipped around the knob, the kind of front door a person locked because it was what doors were for, not because the world outside had taught them anything especially elegant about fear. He stared at it as though it could answer him before he touched it, as though all the missing weeks might somehow rise through the wood and explain themselves if he waited long enough.
This was it, then.
Not the finding.
The facing.
Because searching had been agony, yes, but searching at least gave him motion, gave him the punishing relief of a task. Finding her meant stepping out of theory and into consequence. Finding her meant looking at the woman he loved after twenty-one days of absence and whatever else had grown inside that absence besides. Finding her meant hearing the sound of his own name in her mouth and not knowing whether it would come out as grief or fury or both.
His hand went to his pocket by instinct, fingers brushing the ring there through the fabric of his jacket, and for one cracked second he saw again the way it had hit his chest before dropping between them, the tiny violent glint of it under the back door light, the look on her face when she threw it. He closed his hand around it hard enough to hurt.
Then he let go.
Slowly, carefully, Ledger lifted his hand toward the door.
And just before his knuckles met the wood, it swung open.
He froze.
A man stepped out first.
Not old. Not young either. Broad-shouldered, dark-skinned, wearing a thermal Henley with the sleeves shoved up and a pair of worn jeans, one hand occupied by a mug that still sent up a lazy ribbon of steam into the mountain cold. He stopped dead on the threshold the instant he saw Ledger standing there, and for one suspended, incomprehensible second the whole world seemed to tilt sideways.
Because Ledger had not prepared himself for this.
He had prepared himself for Dasha in tears, Dasha in silence, Dasha pale with anger, Dasha slamming the door, Dasha refusing to see him. He had prepared himself for emptiness, even, for the possibility that he had somehow still managed to arrive too late.
But he had not prepared himself for another man walking out of the cabin at dawn like he belonged to the morning there.
And then he saw her.
Dasha stood just behind him in the dim interior, one hand still on the edge of the door like sheâd followed him to it without hurry, without fear, without any idea what waited on the porch until now. She wore an oversized sweatshirt and leggings, her honey-blonde wefts caught up carelessly, her face bare of makeup and thinner somehow, more tired around the eyes, but so heartbreakingly, devastatingly her that Ledgerâs entire body went rigid with the force of seeing her in the flesh after so long with only ghosts for company.
Her eyes met his.
The man on the porch turned slightly, glancing back at her, then to Ledger again, his expression sharpening with immediate, unmistakable awareness, and in the narrow space between one breath and the next, Ledger felt something ancient and ugly and terrified rise straight out of his chest.
Dashaâs lips parted.
And the mountains, the cold, the coffee steam, the weak porch light, the ring in his pocket, the twenty-one days of hell between themâall of it held perfectly still.
Then she said, very softly,
âLedger?â
tags : @mamasturn @sheinaskirt @authentic-girl03 @k0niiii-blog @trustmymood @glizzymcguirex @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @blackfemreaderr @blckblossom @trustmymood @unicoo @yourleogf @uniqueoutlierblog @og-goddesstrill @determinednot2fall @melaninhawtie @xoadaraox @thatssokarii @kirayuki22 @the1miscief @plan3tch1ld @daliscrim @szatears @that-one-anxious-mango @sonder-slut @saintaquarius (lmk if you wanted to be added or removed )
well đ§ââď¸ as a reminder this blog is NOT a safe space for trump supporters but it IS a safe place for women, queers, trans ppl, people of color, undocumented people, and any marginalized group.
im watching tell me lies and I genuinely think this is gonna be a hate watch. bc there's no way Stephen's dick is that good for Lucy to be acting like this. all he does is lie. and he manipulated her so bad that she eats it up. send them both home.
is Stephen trying to isolate lucy? now he being rude to her mom and she aint say nothing? girl. and he calling her mama by her name. f him. and of course she defending him. she is a disgrace to shailene woodleys face.
and she genuinely thinks she has some sort of upper hand with Stephen. she he keeps lying to everybody its so annoying. I want him gone so bad. and everybody just believes what he says.
then he got the nerve to show up to Macy's crash site and cry. then wanna turn around and go to lucy bc she was losing her mind about writing that letter. they deserve each other. theyre both liars.
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im watching tell me lies and I genuinely think this is gonna be a hate watch. bc there's no way Stephen's dick is that good for Lucy to be acting like this. all he does is lie. and he manipulated her so bad that she eats it up. send them both home.
is Stephen trying to isolate lucy? now he being rude to her mom and she aint say nothing? girl. and he calling her mama by her name. f him. and of course she defending him. she is a disgrace to shailene woodleys face.
and she genuinely thinks she has some sort of upper hand with Stephen. she he keeps lying to everybody its so annoying. I want him gone so bad. and everybody just believes what he says.
then he got the nerve to show up to Macy's crash site and cry. then wanna turn around and go to lucy bc she was losing her mind about writing that letter. they deserve each other. theyre both liars.
im watching tell me lies and I genuinely think this is gonna be a hate watch. bc there's no way Stephen's dick is that good for Lucy to be acting like this. all he does is lie. and he manipulated her so bad that she eats it up. send them both home.
is Stephen trying to isolate lucy? now he being rude to her mom and she aint say nothing? girl. and he calling her mama by her name. f him. and of course she defending him. she is a disgrace to shailene woodleys face.
and she genuinely thinks she has some sort of upper hand with Stephen. she he keeps lying to everybody its so annoying. I want him gone so bad. and everybody just believes what he says.
im watching tell me lies and I genuinely think this is gonna be a hate watch. bc there's no way Stephen's dick is that good for Lucy to be acting like this. all he does is lie. and he manipulated her so bad that she eats it up. send them both home.
is Stephen trying to isolate lucy? now he being rude to her mom and she aint say nothing? girl. and he calling her mama by her name. f him. and of course she defending him. she is a disgrace to shailene woodleys face.
im watching tell me lies and I genuinely think this is gonna be a hate watch. bc there's no way Stephen's dick is that good for Lucy to be acting like this. all he does is lie. and he manipulated her so bad that she eats it up. send them both home.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
warnings: SMUT (poorly written smut) 18+, use of the pet name baby, squirting, light drinking, cringe writing and idk what else.
author note: I haven't written anything in like 4 years. This could be good. it could be trash, but I picked up the pin. I got inspired by reading a lot of fics recently and decided to make something of my own. with my own oc's. i'd been thinking of this idea for a while now and I finally got it down. pls let me know your thoughts and I would love any constructive criticism. I'm so nervous.
a/n2: I posted this in a community i'm part of and finally decided to just put it on my feed bc i'm proud of it.
pls excuse any errors, edited once
word count: 6688
Camille and her girls were grouped together at the party. She didnât know who was throwing it. Just that her girl came to her apartment and dragged her out damn near by her hair. Each girl had a drink in their hand. Standing together waiting for a song they all could dance to, to be played.
âIâm just saying I donât get what the hype was about. That movie was just more white savior propaganda.â Sienna spoke.
They were discussing Avatar: Fire and Ash.
âNo seriously. Three hours of our lives gone.â Camille agreed.
âWeâre never gonna get that time back.â Adeline added to the conversation.
As the girls continued talking about the movie they decided to watch, they were closely huddled together to be able to hear each other over the music. Camille was facing the door being the only one able to see who came in and out of the house. Meaning she was the first to see when he came in. Their eyes met as soon as he and his group of friends walked to the drink table. Her eyes ran up and down his body.
âHe is so fine.â Camy thought as she watched him walk past her not once breaking eye contact with her.
Her girls noticed where her eyes were and followed where she was looking. The two locked eyes with each other and smiled the way only friends would. Camille finally looked back at her friends.
âSheâs on his scent.â Adeline said first, she and Sienna laughed together.
âWhat are yâall talking about?â Camille questioned, also chuckling.
âDonât front.â Sienna responded.
âYou know exactly what we talking about.â Adeline playfully pushed her friend.
âWeâre talking about how when you find a dude that you think looks good, you flirt, use those eyes, they fall in love with you and then you drop âem.â Sienna spelled out for her bestie.
âWe gotta get them before they get us, what?â Camille raised her shoulders in question.
âIâve heard about him tho. His name is Roman. He plays football, good grades. Basically the full package.â Sienna informed Camille.
âPlease Camy, donât hurt him. If you hurt him, you could ruin the rest of the season.â Adeline pleaded.
âGirl, I am not gonâ hurt him. He looks like he can handle me.â Camille drank what was left in her cup, âAnd Iâm gonna refill. Excuse me.â She smiled.
âShe is gonna be on him like white on rice.â Sienna joked. A little.
Adeline shook her head, sipping her drink. They watched their friend put the moves on her next target.
Camille was mixing herself a sweet drink while she and Roman stood next to each other. He was also making himself a drink. Camille looked up at him. She was only 5â6 and heâs over 6ft tall. Camy was ready to climb him like a tree.
âIâm Camille. My friends call me Camy.â She turned to face him, swallowing from her cup.
âRoman. Everyone calls me Rome.â He used her line.â
SHe giggled. The two of them fell into conversation together. Camy made him laugh, genuinely laugh.
âGirl, she finna laugh him right outta his draws.â Sienna spoke up.
âThatâs how she gets them in the door.â Adeline responds.
âAnd then she puts that pussy on âem.â Sienna spoke. The two friends cackled. âWe are such light weights.â She took a deep breath.
âI was at your last game.â Camy started. They had made their way to sit on a surprisingly empty couch.
âOh yeah? Whatâd you think?â He quizzed.
âYour defensive end needs some work.â She said bluntly.
Roman laughed, âIâll let him know.â He gave her a million dollar smile. âYou coming to the next game?â
âYou gonâ give me a reason to?â Camy licked her lip.
âIâll give you ten.â He looked down at her lips, and back up. The both of them kept eye contact.
âOh yeah?â Camille sipped her fresh cup.
âYeah.â He took her cup from her and sipped it himself. She looked up at him, âYou got that âme so hornyâ look on your face.â
They leaned in close to each other as she grabbed her cup back.
âI am.â She confirmed. He was too fine. She wanted to ride him like a bike. Their lips were close to touching when her friends came over to drag her to the makeshift dancefloor.
âThey playing our song!â Her friends yelled excitedly. The trio danced together.
Roman couldnât keep his eyes off of her.
He watched as the girls had a good time dancing with each other. All he could think about was getting Camille to bed, or wall, or couch. Hell a counter would work.
âYour man is watching you, girl.â Sienna laughed.
âThen letâs give him a show.â Camille continued to grind in the middle of the trio. The friends then continued to dance provocatively, each still with a cup of mixed liquor in their hands. The song changed.
Rome got up and made his way over to Camy.
âOop. Here he comes. Go on and get yours.â Adeline pulled Sienna to the side to keep dancing.
âUse protection!â Sienna joked before Addi pulled her away completely. Camille smiled at her friend's instructions.
âYou ready?â Roman questioned.
âLetâs go to my place.â Camy waved goodbye to her friends.
At her apartment Roman and Camille were kissing heavily on top of her bed. The both of them moaned into the kiss at the same time. Tongues meeting over and over again. Her hands went to the bottom of his shirt to pull it over his head. Roman disconnected their lips, pulling the shirt off himself.
Camy watched him take his shirt off while biting her lip. He then helped her out of her own top and bra. Their lips locked again in another earth shattering, nasty kiss. She raised her hips to grind against his dick a few times. She went to unbutton his pants.
âGet these off.â Camille sighed as she broke the kiss. She lifted her hips to slide her skirt and panties down her legs. He was undressing at the same time. He looked down to her pussy while licking his lips.
âYou gon let me eat it?â Roman questioned.
Camy nodded.
âUse your words, baby. You gon let me eat it?â He asked again.
âYes.â Camille liked his dominance.
He leaned down to kiss her lips. He kissed down her neck and chest until he got to where they both really wanted him to be. In front of her pretty pussy. He peppered kisses along her inner thighs before he started lapping at her clit.
âUuhh.â Camy moaned loudly. Not caring about her volume.
âMhmm.â Roman let out. Sending vibrations through her as he french kissed her pussy.
It didnât take long before she felt her impending orgasm. The heat started at the back of her thighs and she closed them around Romans head. He began slurping at her clit. Camille's hands went to his head as best they could since she was suffocating him with her thick thighs. He wouldâve happily died then and there. With this beautiful, sexy woman cumming on his tongue.
She ground herself into his magical mouth. Moaning uncontrollably. He didnât let up until she was breathing heavily, with a dazed look on her face.
âYou taste so good.â He connected their lips in a heated nasty, tongue heavy kiss. Hand wrapped around her throat, loose, but firm enough to make her breath hitch. Camilleâs hands trailed from his chest to his abs, down to his eight inch monster dick.
Roman was leaking so much that when her hand came in contact with his erection he sucked in a sharp breath. Camy lightly pushed back on his chest until he was sitting on his knees. She moved onto her stomach and wordlessly put his throbbing member into her o=mouth as far as she could take him. Romeâs head fell back. Eyes closed.
7 of his 8 inches were down her throat. She took the handless approach. Bobbing her head at a steady pace. Romanâs fingers threaded through her braids, pushing her head further down til her nose was pressed against his happy trail. He let her come back up for air. She took a deep breath and got back to work sucking the soul out of him.
âOouuu.â He groaned as Camy sped up.
Spit was sliding down the sides of her mouth as she ate his dick better than anyone had in his past. His hands rested in between her braids. Still letting her continue her actions. Romanâs head almost fell back in pleasure again, eyes rolled to the back of his head. Chest puffed out. He fought to reopen his eyes. When he got them open, she was already looking up at him. The way she held eye contact made him want to keep her there. He started to buck his hips to her rhythm, hitting the back of her throat over and over. Rome pulled her off enough so she could take another deep breath. Camy went back to work. She could breathe later.
âOh shit. Iâm finna nut. You gotta stop, baby.â He moaned. His chest deflated when she pulled back. âLay back for me.â He instructed.
Camille did as she was told. He leaned forward and licked her clit again. Just to see her jerk.
âYou ready?â He asked her.
She nodded.
âWords, baby.â
âYes, Iâm ready.â Camyâs body was on vibrate.
Roman lined himself up with her entrance then slowly started to slide the tip in. He pulled back out then in again. Back out, then in again. Teasing Camille while also trying to keep himself from nutting early. Rome laid his forehead on top of hers, both needing to take a breath. He noticed she hadnât made a sound.
âBreathe, Camy.â He kissed her lips. âYou good?â He had to make sure she was okay.
âIâm okay. You can move.â Camilleâs left hand went to rub the back of his head. At the nape of his neck.
Roman rolled his hips. Once. Twice. Camille moaned, gripping him tighter as he set his pace and held his wavelike rhythm. The two of them got caught up in each other so deep it was like they had been together for some time, instead of this being their first time.
Camy wrapped her legs around Roman to keep him close. As if they could get any closer. They were chest to chest. The scent of his cologne wrapped around her so thickly, she knew she would smell him on her sheets for days.
Rome turned his head to the side and connected their lips in a hot, tongue filled kiss. Roman moaned into it, at the feel of her tongue against his. It made him work harder at his strokes. He put more power in them. Starting to fuck her harder, while not increasing his pace just yet. She let out the prettiest noises heâd ever heard every time their pelvises met. Camy was just so wet, the sound of her squelching pussy bounced off the walls and back into their ears. It was the sweetest music to his ears. He disconnected their lips.
âYou feel so good.â He spoke before kissing down Camyâs neck.
She scratched down his back at the feeling of him still pounding her at such a slow pace.
âTell me what you want.â He kissed down the other side of her neck. He moved to put both his arms around her, crowding Camy. She really liked the feel of his chest on hers. Rubbing against her taught nipples. She couldnât think clearly.
âGo faster.â She grabbed at both sides of his face to kiss him again. Roman stopped to put her right leg over his shoulder to hit deeper. His pace sped up, which caused her eyes to roll back so far he thought she would go blind.
Camille couldnât contain the sounds from the pleasure she was receiving. Neither could he. They were both caught up in their euphoria that neither one of them registered Camyâs hips bucking to meet his. Roman almost stopped to let her take the lead to get her there again. He had to make her orgasm so hard she wouldnât remember her own name.
Roman felt his own orgasm approaching but heâd be damned if he got his before she got hers. He leaned down and took one of her nipples into his mouth, while teasing the other. It made Camyâs noises come out louder. If that were even possible.
Her second high was building. She still had her hands on his head. Camy pulled him up to kiss him through her orgasm. Feeling her clench around his dick had him cumming with her. He groaned into the kiss while moving his hands to grip the sheets. Damn near ripping them.
âMmm.â They both moaned as he slipped out and laid on his back beside her.
âDamn girl.â They both laughed. âI ainât know you had it like that.â
âNow you do.â She smiled, âYou good too, I guess.â
âOh, you got jokes. Let me catch my breath and Ima show you.â Roman took a deep breath then put his left arm behind his head.
Camille had already caught a second wind. She leaned into Rome and kissed up his neck. When his sweet spot was found she licked and sucked at the spot she had discovered. Leaving a big hickey on his neck. He moaned at the feel of her mouth on him. It made him completely hard again. Camy moved upward to lick at his ear lobe making him squeeze his eyes shut tight. Both of her hands were holding onto his head.
Roman turned his head to kiss Camy deeply. She pulled back, âYou ready?â She questioned.
âFor what?â He quizzed, watching her climb on top of him.
âFor me.â She grabbed his dick.
âHell yeah.â He whimpered as she sank down onto his rock hard member by herself.
They both moaned at the feeling of him entering her pussy again. Roman looked her straight in the eyes, biting his lip as his right hand gripped at her ass. Ready to help her ride him silly.
Camy rode him like her life depended on it. Rolling her hips at a steady pace, she threw her head back in ecstasy. Riding him with so much passion. It just felt so good having him under her. He looked so handsome and so so sexy.
âUUUhhh.â Camy couldn't stop the moans from coming out.
âFeel good, baby?â Rome was teasing her.
âSo fucking good.â She leaned down and started bouncing on his pole.
âGod damn. Keep doing that.â He put his left hand on her other ass cheek, helping her bounce on his dick.
He was a groaning mess. Roman wrapped his arms around her and sat them up straight. Camy giggled with her arms around his neck. She then rode him slowly, maintaining eye contact. Something she noticed he likes.
âYouâre so handsome, Roman.â Camille spoke softly. Keeping her pace slow and steady.
âYouâre beautiful, Camille.â He held her tighter.
He loosened her grip around his neck, hands cradling his face softly. They leaned in at the same time for a soft, long kiss. It made her mouth water. SHe pulled away, eyes on him.
âOpen.â
He did as she instructed. Camy pushed the spit from her mouth to his. He swallowed with no hesitation. The sexiness of it made her quicken her pace. He squeezed her quickly before his left hand grabbed at her scalp, right hand on her ass. Helping her ride him like a horse.
The two were caught up in their own world. Their limbs were intertwined, both their hearts were getting mixed in as well. . Camille felt the third release approaching, her moans becoming louder as she rolled her hips. He had to kiss her again.
âOh fuck.â He breathed into her mouth, âYou feel so good, so warm.â He moaned.
Camy groaned, hands scratching up his back again.
âHow you feeling, baby?â He asked, she felt his warm breath on her neck.
âSo good. So so so good.â
He wrapped his hand around her throat again lightly. Then brought their mouths together in an open mouthed kiss, going in with his tongue. He started pounding up into her to help get her there. Squeezing just a little bit harder.
âYes! God yes!â Camille exclaimed, eyes closed tight.
âI can feel youâre about to cum, baby. Cum all over this dick. Give it to me.â He spoke into her mouth softly.
Thatâs all it took for her to release all over him. As she convulsed, her mouth dropped open. Eyes still shut tight, loud moans escaping her mouth. Her pussy squeezing him sent him over the edge.
âIâm cumming, baby. You making this dick nut. Youâre such a good girl.â He groaned and connected their mouths in a wet, slobbery kiss.
His thrusts slowed to a stop as he pressed kisses to both her cheeks, chin, nose and forehead. They were back to breathing heavily. He lifted Camy up off of him smoothly while giving her a final kiss.
âYou are amazing.â Roman complimented.
âI know. You are too.â She returned the sentiment in a joking manner.
âDonât play like I didn't just have your eyes rolling back.â He nudged her softly. They laughed together.
âWe should clean up. I donât want to drip all over my sheets.â Camy got up from her bed, and made her way to the adjoining bathroom. She looked back, âYou coming?â She asked.
âHell yeah.â Roman got up from her sheets.
âJust to shower. No funny business.â She pointed at him.
He held up his hands in surrender, âYou have my word.â
The shower was quick, but filled with casual natural conversion.
âMy class is at 10 on Monday.â Camille informed him.
âYou didnât want an earlier class?â He asked as he had the hand held shower head, letting the water run down his back.
âNo.â She answered immediately. Rome chuckled. âMe and early mornings donât get along.â
âI felt that.â
âYou have early classes?â
âYeah, but Iâm used to starting off early with football practices and shit.â He shrugged then leaned around to get the spare rag she let him borrow. As he straightened up, he pecked her lips. They both smiled after.Both of their hearts picking up speed. They were so far gone already.
After they finished their joint shower, Camille put her braids inside of her bonnet with Romans help.
âIâm hungry. You want me to order some food?â Rome asked with his phone in hand.
âSure. Itâs almost twelve. Whatâs open?â She led him to the living room.
âLetâs see.â He opened the doordash app, checked with Camy about the food to order then placed it.
They chilled out on the couch getting to know each other better. Which wasnât part of Camyâs plan. She just wanted to fuck and send him on his way, but heâs been so sweet to her. It flattered and confused her at the same time. Camy definitely wanted to get to know him on a deeper, more emotional level.
They sat on the couch, laughing and enjoying each other's company and fast food.
âWhy do you watch this show? It ainât about nothing but four old ladies.â Roman ate some fries.
âOnly one of them is old. The other three are middle aged. And itâs good.â
âOld.â He deadpanned, making Camy giggled.
âStop. The Golden Girls is good.â Camille tried to wat=rm him up the the idea of the classic show.
âYeah, whatever.â
âWatch and see.â They finished their food.
They watched up to the break in episode. Roman was trying to hold in his laughter, barely being able too.
Blanche was recounting her experience with the pepper spray at the police station. Roman was laughing along with Camille.
âIs that laughter I hear?â She started making light fun of him.
âMan, it ainât all that.â He shrugged.
âYouâre such a hater.â She poked at his arm that was behind her head on the back of the couch.
Roman grabbed her hand to mess with her fingers. They both were looking at their intertwined fingers, with content expressions. Roman and Camille falling hard for each other.
Camy looked up at Rome to see he was already looking at her. With a softness that no one has ever had when looking at her. He noticed a sparkle in her eyes as she held his eye contact. He willed his heart to slow down at least a little bit.
Damn. The two were down bad already.
Roman moved to kiss her. The kiss was soft and slow. It took her breath away. He could barely breathe to begin with. Camy used her free hand to cup his cheek as she pulled back. She left him with one final quick kiss, then moved to sit back against the couch. A smile on her face. Roman wearing a matching smile. All he could think was how much he liked her already.
âWhat else do you want to watch?â She questioned.
âThe back of my eyelids, honestly.â He answered.
âSame. Did you want to go home or do you want to stay?â Camy hoped he said he would stay.
âWhat do you want me to do?â He wanted her to tell him what she wanted. Again.
âI want you to stay.â She confessed.
âThen Iâm stayinâ.â Roman smiled at her.
That made Camy very nervous and happy. Usually she would send niggas on their way. Not this time. It was different now. This time she actually wanted him to stick around.She definitely was going to keep him for as long as she could. He sat beside her thinking the exact same thing.
Camille and Roman got in bed together. She laid on her normal side of the bed, he got in on the other side. They faced each other. Camyâs eyes were heavy, she was having trouble keeping them open. Roman wasnât having much luck keeping his eyes open either.
Rome let out a content breath.
âWhat are you gonna do about clothes?â Camille yawned.
âI can ask a friend to drop me off some in the morning. If youâre alright with him knowing your building.â
âThatâs fine.â Her eyes closed completely.
Roman let his eyes close as well.
Camy peaked an eye open, then kissed him softly on the mouth. She lied back down and drifted off to sleep. Roman smiled and went to sleep right after her.
The next morning he woke up before Camy and decided to order the two of them breakfast. Rome texted his friend to bring him some fresh clothes. With the confirmation that his friend would drop him off some clothes and the food being close he went to brush his teeth. He tried to keep quiet then realized he didnât really need to. Camy was in such a deep peaceful sleep.
Once he finished and was about to go get the food that was left in front of the door Roman stopped by her head to leave a kiss on her forehead. After he grabbed the food and drinks, he started putting the food on the dining room table she had. Camille made her way into the room.
âGood morning.â Roman spoke up first.
âMorning.â She rubbed her eyes. Then grabbed one of the orange juices on the table.
âI ordered us breakfast.â
âYouâre amazing. Youâll be perfect if you got pancakes.â Camy looked up at him.âHeâs so tallâ she thought.
âOf course I got pancakes.â They both grinned.
âThen youâre perfect.â She blinked at him slowly.
âIâm about to be even more perfect. I got eggs, sausage, bacon and hashbrowns.â
Camy let out a deep breath at how good all that food sounded.
âLetâs eat. Iâm so hungry.â She said, pulling out one of the four chairs around the small table. He followed suit, both of them digging into the food. They ate and talked.
âDid you ask about getting clothes?â
âYeah. My homie is gonna call when he;s outside the building.â He took a bite of the food from his box.
Camy nodded while completely digging into her pancakes and bacon. Roman watched her for a minute, admiring her beauty. They finished eating then made their way over to the couch.
âYou mounted this tv yourself?â He questioned.
âI did.â She nodded, proud of herself.
âThatâs wassup.â Rome gave her dap. Camy giggled as he smiled at her.
âWe have to talk thoâ.â She got serious.
âAbout last night.â Roman nodded.
âYes. Iâm not usually that reckless.â
âMe neither.â He nodded along with her.
Iâm on birth control, so we donât have to worry about that. I just got tested and Iâm clean. Plus I usually use condoms.â Camy explained to him.
âI got tested and Iâm in the clear. I also use condoms. Mostly.â He joked with her.
They reassured each other.
âWeâre good then.â Camy let out a deep breath in relief. âIt was just like I lost all my sense.â Camille grabbed the tv remote.
âWe both lost our senses then.â
âIt was fun tho.â
âJust fun? Not euphoric? Erotic? Sexy? Satisfying? Hot? Mind blowing?" He couldâve kept going.
âOkay. It was every last one of those things.â She laughed lightly.
They both fell quiet while the tv played. Roman kept glancing at her cleavage that was peeking out from her robe. She was looking for something to watch.
âQuit looking at my boobs.â She broke the comfortable silence.
He chuckled, âHow did you know?â
âYouâre not as subtle as you think.â Camy scrolled through the tv guide.
âDamn.â He reached over to undo the belt on her robe.
âYou tryna see me naked again?â
âYeah.â He helped her out of her robe. âComâere.â Roman spoke with those same bedroom eyes from the night before.
Camy put down the remote and straddled him. He held eye contact with Came. She found it so sexy. Roman leaned in to kiss her. As he kissed her deeply, he tasted syrup and bacon on her breath. They both moaned, tongues brushing.
Romeâs hands went from her hips to her ass. He gripped her firmly. Camy tilted his head to the opposite side as she also changed her head position. She started grinding on him, making him release another sound of pleasure.
âDo that again.â He commanded.
She obliged. Camy could feel him getting hard. Roman helped guide her in her ministrations on his lap. She was getting so wet for him, it started to ache. She grabbed one of his hands from her but and guided it into her panties.
âYouâre drenched.â He couldnât wait to get back deep in her good ass pussy. âYou want me?â
âMmhm.â
âYes or no, baby. Do you want me?â
âYes.â
âGood girl.â He brought their mouths back together in a lust filled kiss. He pulled her panties to the side, slipped himself out of his briefs through the hole and began to lower her onto him when his phone went off. Roman wouldâve ignored it, but they both knew it was about his clothes. They both let out sighs of displeasure.
âIâll be right back.â He kissed her quickly and sweetly. Rome grabbed his pants and shoes to get the bag from his homeboy.
He hurried down to the car.
âMan, why you couldnât get your own clothes? Who you fuckinâ over here?âÂ
âMind your business. âPreciate it.â He thanked his buddy, trying to send him on his way.
âYou good. Her shit must be spectacular if you ainât going home.â He made another joke.
âShut the fuck up and get outta here.â Roman turned to go back inside the apartment building.
âShe got a friend?â
âNigga, go home.â He laughed and went back inside.
Roman walked back into her apartment, bag in hand. Camy was still on the couch, her phone in hand. She was making sure her phone was on DND. There wouldnât be any interruptions on her end. Her friends had texted to check in on her but she had been busy. Camy was about to get busy again. She had informed Roman to do the same thing. He followed suit.
Camille then looked at him and smiled when he was finished fixing his settings.
âYou good now?â She questioned.
Yeah.â He sat his bag down next to the sofa before adjusting himself in his pants. âHe asked if you had a friend.â
Camy laughed lightly. Then looked up at him. He saw she had that look in her eyes again.
âYou wanna go to the room?â She asked him.
âLetâs go.â He reached out for her hand.
She accepted his outstretched hand and they went to her bedroom.
Once inside her room Camille reached up to pull his lips down to hers. She was still so hot for him after the couch. Camy couldnât wait to get her hands on him again. Rome had the hard on of the century between his legs. He picked Camy up, she wrapped her legs around him.
They kissed so passionately that both of their minds went blank. Camy circled her arms around his neck tighter. Their chests were pressed closer together.
âMmm.â he moaned, âTake this off.â He instructed. Sliding the robe off her shoulders.
When the robe fell, he leaned down to slide her panties down her legs. Camy reached around and unclasped her bra. He looked up at her and couldn't stop himself from thinking of how gorgeous she is. He kissed up her body, to her lips. Camille grabbed the bottom of his shirt to pull it over his head. He grabbed it to finish taking it off.
Camy moved to unbutton his pants. She leaned to pull his pants down, along with his boxers. His dick sprung free. Roman stepped out of his pants. Camy was about to put her mouth on him, until he pulled her up from the floor. He kissed her again, deeply. She moaned as he disconnected their lips.
âI wanna try something.â He moved them to the bed.
âOkay.â Camy nodded as they made their way to the middle of the mattress.
âWrap your arms around my neck.â
She did as she was told.
He bends down, âIma pick you up but your legs are gonna be over my arms.â He did as he was instructing. âAlright. Now Ima need you to line me up.â
Camille reached down to put the tip of his dick to her hole. His hands were spread on her ass and he started pushing into her soaking wet pussy. She gasped. He slid in so easily, he had to take a deep breath while leaning his forehead against hers.
Romanâs mouth dropped open at the feel of her tight pussy on his dick. He wanted to bounce Camy on him so badly, but he knew he had to ease her into it. He pulled his hips back and pushed forward again. He repeated the action over and over again.
Camilleâs mouth dropped open wide. Roman looked her straight in the eyes.
âHow you feel, baby?â
âAmazing.â She breathed then let her head fall back. âYeah? I make you feel that good?â He kept thrusting at a steady pace. He kissed her neck.
All she could do was gasp and moan. She tried to move her hips to match his rhythm, but he just gripped her tighter. Stopping completely when she didnât answer him.
âAnswer my question. I make you feel this good?â He asked again, his tone more stern.
Camy tried to speak but he was making her feel so good, even when he wasnât doing anything. It made her mind go blank.
â I I IâŚâ She couldnât form the words yet.
âI I I what? If you want me to keep going youâll use your words.â He mocked her. âIf I give you a taste will you answer me? Huh, you think you can do that?â
She nodded. He thrusted softly twice.
âWhere ya voice at? Talk to me.â He kept his hands tight on her ass. Rome pulled out to the tip then pushed back in.
âYou do. You do. You make me feel good. So good.â Camy nodded quickly.
âThere you go. Thereâs that voice I wanted to hear.â Roman sped up his thrusts, hands full of her ass. He kissed her breath away. They both released sounds of ecstasy. Rome broke the kiss to look down at where they were connected. His thrusts sped up, their chests rubbing together in the way that she liked. The friction made their heads spin.
His eyes immediately locked on the cream that was at the base of his dick. It made him groan loudly.
âLook at that.â He told her, she looked down. âYou see that? See what Iâm doing to this pussy? See what we do together? She lettinâ me know how good she feeling.â He talked dirty to her.
She loved it.
Camy felt his warm breath on her face as she looked down at her own release on his dick. Her hands moved up from his neck to cradle the back of his head. Foreheads touching.
Roman rocked into her, watching as more cream built up.
âHarder.â Camy breathed out softly.
âWhat, baby? What you want?â Roman quizzed. He wanted her to put some more base in her voice.
âHarder.â She repeated louder, just the way he wanted.
Roman did as he was told. He proceeded to pound into her the way she wanted. Sweat was dripping down his forehead and chest. The headboard was slamming into the wall behind Camilleâs head. He rocked his hips hard, making her toes curl. Camy felt herself about to cum. The squishing noises filled the bedroom alongside their moans. It brought up the memory of last night for them both. Her eyes shut tight, Rome noticed she did that when she was about to get hers.
Roman knew he had to get her there. He was almost there himself. As much as he wanted to let go, he was a gentleman. A gentleman that always took care of his lady first.
âLook at me, baby.â Rome started, âYou see what Iâm doing to you?â He kept his powerful pace, âWatch this dick, baby. Watch me fuck you so good you forget your name.â He kissed her cheeks. Then connected their lips in a messy tongue filled kiss. He dominated her mouth with his.
âMmhmm.â Camille moaned into his open mouthed kiss. She wanted to fuck him back so badly, her loins were aching. She tilted her head to the side, deepening the kiss. Roman put more force behind his strokes.
âCum all over me, baby. Wet this dick up. Come on, Camy. We both know you can. Soak me, baby.â He talked to her. HIs words helped push her over the edge, like he knew they would.
Camille felt her orgasm wash over her, she clenched around him so tightly. It didnât stop there. As she squeezed him, she squirted all over him.
âOh shit. Look at that. You see this? Fuck, Iâm finna nut.â He groaned as he sped up his thrusts. He painted her walls white. âYou feel me, baby? You feel me filling up this tight pussy?â
âI feel you, baby.â She moaned out loudly.
He kissed her again. As his orgasm came to a stop, Roman quit thrusting into her. He pressed himself closer to Camy. If that was even possible.
He decided at that moment he wasnât gonna go anywhere. He was going to make her a part of his life. Present and future. On her bed in the dampness of her sheets, they both had unknowingly decided they were each others forever.
The rest of the day was filled with ordered food and going at it like rabbits. Like an hour before her friends had finally decided theyâd had enough of her not responding.
âThatâs it, Camy. Fuck me back.â He grunted as Camille threw her ass back at him. He met her thrust for thrust.
âOouuu shit.â She couldnât breathe.
He had an iron grip on her hips as he watched her ass jiggle. He loved the sight of the waves it was making. He was mesmerized. He slid one hand up her back to grip the braids and pulled her up as he leaned down. His left hand wrapped around her throat soft, yet firm. He pressed their lips together in a wet kiss. The constant fucking was heard by Camys very annoyed neighbors. Neither of them cared. He came up from the kiss.
âThrow it back for me.â He spoke into her ear, as he pulled up and slapped her ass. He had to see the waves before they both reached their highs.
She started up again.
âI know you can do better than that.â Roman teased.
That made Camy really fuck him.
âOh.â He threw his head back in pleasure. This time he wasnât able to stop himself from nuttin first.
Currently, both Sienna and Adeline were walking down the hall to Camilleâs apartment. They both had pulled up at the same time to see why the hell their bestie was MIA for the weekend.
âWhy the fuck she think itâs okay not to answer us? I know she checked that phone.â Adeline talked her shit.
âThat better had been some mind numbing dick for her to go ghost on us.â Sienna cosigned.
âBut she donât ever spend the weekend with a nigga. Ever.â Adeline furrowed her brows.
âThatâs why Iâm confused.â
The friends stopped in front of Camyâs door and found a handwritten letter from her neighbors. They locked eyes and smiled cheekily. Of course they went to read it but the door opened.
Camille stopped in her tracks when she came face to face with her best friends. She didnât expect to see them yet. She put on a smile to ease the tension. Camy knew they were annoyed that she hadnât answered her phone all weekend. But she was, ya know, busyâŚ
All three girls looked at each other, Roman, his duffle bag in his hand, then back to their friend.
âSo you canât answer the phone?â Adeline started.
âI was busy.â
âToo busy to let us know you still breathing?â Sienna added in.
The two friends looked at Roman and back at Camy. Sienna smirked. Adeline folded her arms across her chest. Not yet impressed.
âIma go. Iâll see you later.â He left a soft lingering kiss on Camyâs lips. Then looked between her friends awkwardly. âExcuse me.â He squeezed past the two girls.
âYou know we finna talk about you?â
âAll good things.â He responded with a smile on his handsome face.
âOop.â Both of them spoke.
âGet in here.â Camille pulled her friends in each by a wrist. She shut the door behind them.
âHereâs your noise complaint.â Sienna handed the paper to Camy.
She snatched it in embarrassment. She sat it down on top of her coffee table.
âYou ainât gon read it?â Adeline was being funny.
Camy shot her a deadpan look.
âWhere yo phone at?â Sienna asked, taking her usual spot on the couch. Adeline did the same thing.
âGirl.â Camy went to go get her phone. âHere.â She showed her friends.
âSo it ainât even dead. You just ignored us?â
âI didn"t ignore yâall. I was just preoccupied.â
âWe can tell.â
Camy was back in her robe, braids in a bun and a fresh lit candle.
âIâm sorry.â She apologized to her friends.
âYou should be.â They spoke simultaneously.
âChill on me, please.â She laughed, and sat down.
The girls all had a little giggle, then Sienna wanted to know about Camyâs weekend.
âSo⌠What yâall did?â She questioned, with raised eyebrows.
â.ŕłŕż RAINDANCE á°
In which Celeste learns that to step into the new, she has to be ready to let go of the old...luckily, she has her soulmate to hold her hand while she does it.
Celeste had been testing him ever since they landed.
Not in any overt, deliberate way â she wasnât cruel enough for that â but in the quiet, unconscious way beautiful women test the world simply by existing inside it. The Parisian air had done something to her, something soft and dangerous and entirely unfair to a man already undone. It lifted her curls just enough to make him want to tuck them behind her ear every five minutes. It warmed her skin into a deeper, richer glow that looked like honey under sunlight. It made her laugh easier, linger longer, walk slower â like she was letting the world have more of her than usual.
And she had dragged him through Versailles like this.
Through halls built for kings and queens, pointing out gilded ceilings and marble statues and oil-painted gods with a casual flick of her hand, as if she were not standing there looking like something that belonged behind velvet rope and whispered legend herself. Sheâd pause in front of some myth carved in stone â Aphrodite rising from the sea, Venus draped in linen â and tilt her head thoughtfully, explaining brushstrokes and symmetry and symbolism while Tyriq stood there staring at her instead of the art, wondering why nobody had yet figured out how to put Celeste Sterling inside a frame and hang her on a wall so the world could understand what reverence actually looked like.
She walked like she belonged to beauty, not like she was borrowing it.
And God, she looked good.
Good in the way that makes hunger feel philosophical. Good in the way that turns admiration into ache. Good in the way that made him want to sink his teeth into the air around her just to prove she was real. He didnât want to touch her in a crude way, didnât want to rush her, didnât want to consume her â he wanted to kneel to her. Wanted to trace her existence with his eyes and commit it to memory like scripture.
And he didnât mind it.
Didnât mind the way she held him captive just by being present. Didnât mind the way his world tilted toward her with every step she took. Didnât mind that the Louvre could burn down and all heâd remember from Paris was the way she looked at him while explaining a painting, sunlight hitting her cheekbone, mouth moving around words she loved.
Now, if you asked Celeste?
She would tell you she was doing nothing at all.
She would tell you she was just walking. Just talking. Just breathing. Just pointing at art and laughing and enjoying a city she loved.
Like most beautiful things, she was unaware of the gravity she carried.
Unaware that heads turned when she passed.
Unaware that men paused mid-step just to watch her move through space.
Unaware that Tyriq was being dismantled and rebuilt by her presence daily.
She thought she was just existing.
But to him?
She was an event.
She was a disruption.
She was the kind of beauty that didnât announce itself and therefore destroyed everything in its path.
And he followed her through Paris like a pilgrim follows light.
He took her hand as they walked along the Seine, the city breathing around them in low light and distant laughter, the river reflecting gold and silver in slow-moving ribbons beneath the bridges. After a few steps he tugged her gently back, guiding her until her back met his chest, until she was held in the circle of his arms like she belonged there.
They swayed together, barely moving, just enough to feel the rhythm of each otherâs bodies, just enough to pretend there was music when there wasnât any at all. He pressed a kiss to the base of her neck, right where her pulse lived, and she laughed softly, tilting her head before turning in his arms, curls brushing his jaw.
âIf youâre tryinâ to get some tonight,â she murmured with a teasing smile as the Eiffel Tower glittered behind her like a constellation fallen to earth, âitâs workinâ.â
âOh, I ainât had no doubts about that, baby,â he grinned, twirling her once in a lazy circle before pulling her back against him again, arms tightening like he never wanted to let her go.
They stood like that for a while, listening to the river, to the hush of the city, to the shared quiet of their breathing, swaying gently to nothing and everything all at once.
Then, almost too casually, he asked, âWhat do you think about marriage?â
He felt her body change before she said anything â the slight stillness, the subtle tension that traveled through her spine like a held breath. He didnât push. He didnât rush. He bent instead, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder, right over the faint scar there, the one time had lightened but never erased, the small map of a past that had hurt her deeply and shaped her quietly.
A past she had survived.
âWith you?â she asked finally, her voice low and careful, her breath warm against his neck as he kissed her shoulder again, slower this time, gentler.
He closed his eyes at the sound of it.
âYeah,â he whispered. âWith me.â
He didnât say it like a demand.
He didnât say it like a plan.
He said it like a hope he was brave enough to speak aloud.
And the river kept flowing, and the lights kept shimmering, and the world stayed soft around them while she considered a future that didnât feel frightening anymore â just new, and warm, and very close to home.
She swallowed.
The Eiffel Tower blinked behind her like it, too, was holding its breath.
âI never wanted to get married again,â she said quietly, the words careful, honest, weighted with history. âLikeâever. Not even a courthouse.â
âYeah,â he nodded, not defensive, not surprised, just present. âI know.â
âAnd I still donât know if I believe in the whole⌠forever thing,â she continued, voice softer now, almost vulnerable. âNot the way people mean it. Not the way it gets promised and then⌠broken.â
Tyriq exhaled slowly, ran a hand over his jaw as if grounding himself, as if reminding himself not to rush her, not to crowd the moment with his want. He let go of her waist for half a second â just long enough for her to notice â and immediately she reached back for him, guiding his hands home again, fingers warm and certain around his.
âBut if I was ever gonna do it againâŚâ she whispered, finally lifting her eyes to his, courage and fear braided together in her gaze. âItâd be with you. Only you.â
Something in him gave way.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
But deeply â the way ice breaks on a river when spring finally reaches it.
He didnât answer right away.
He leaned his forehead against hers instead, breathing her in, letting the truth of what sheâd said settle into him properly, reverently, like you set something fragile down on velvet.
âYou donât gotta promise me forever,â he murmured, voice low and steady. âI donât need vows or timelines or rings or nothinâ that scares you.â
His thumbs brushed slow circles into her waist, grounding, warm, certain.
âI just need now,â he said. âAnd tomorrow. And the next time you reach for me instead of pulling away. Thatâs enough for me.â
He lifted his head just enough to look at her, really look at her.
âAnd if someday âforeverâ grows out of that,â he added softly, âthen Iâll be grateful. But if it doesnât⌠Iâm still grateful I get you at all.â
Her eyes shone.
She smiled â small, tender, relieved.
And the Eiffel Tower kept blinking behind them, the river kept moving, the city kept breathing â while two people stood very still, choosing each other in the only way that had ever really mattered.
She laughed, a soft, breathy sound that curled into the night between them, eyes warm with teasing as she tilted her head at him.
âLook at you,â she murmured, thumb brushing his knuckles. âYou been readinâ my poetry and stealinâ ideas?â
He scoffed, lips twitching into that familiar grin, eyes glinting with mock offense.
âI donât recall any of your characters fuckinâ on an air mattress for three months straight.â
She snorted, leaning her forehead into his chest. âThat was research.â
âSound like trauma,â he shot back easily.
They stood there laughing quietly, shoulders touching, Paris humming around them like a held breath, the river whispering secrets neither of them needed to hear aloud.
He squeezed her hands gently.
âYour stuff always been about yearning,â he added more softly, less teasing now. âAbout people wantinâ each other but not rushinâ it. About timing. About fear. About hope.â
She looked up at him, surprised.
âAnd you,â he continued, voice warm and sure, âare exactly the kind of woman that makes somebody write like that.â
Her smile faltered into something tender.
âSo no,â he finished quietly. âI ainât stealinâ your ideas.â
He leaned his forehead against hers, voice low, sincere.
âIâm just livinâ in one of your poems.â
He didnât wait after that.
Not in a rushed way, not in a desperate way, but in the way someone steps forward when they already know the ground is solid.
His hands slid up her arms slowly, thumbs brushing over the soft inside of her wrists first, like he was asking permission with touch before he ever asked with words. He tilted his head just enough that their foreheads brushed, just enough that her breath warmed his mouth.
She looked up at him â eyes dark, smile gone quiet and real â and he felt that familiar ache spread through his chest again, the one that always came when he realized how much he loved her.
So he kissed her.
Not hard.
Not hungry.
Not claiming.
A kiss that was a thank-you.
A kiss that was an apology.
A kiss that was a promise he didnât need to name.
His mouth pressed to hers warm and slow, lips fitting together like something theyâd practiced in another lifetime, like this was muscle memory instead of choice. He lingered, just long enough to let her feel that he was there, that he wasnât leaving, that he meant what he said about wanting her now.
She sighed into it â a soft sound, barely there â and her hands slid into his hoodie, fingers curling at his sides like she was anchoring herself to him.
He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers again, noses brushing, breath shared.
âHey,â he murmured, voice low and steady.
And the river kept moving.
The tower kept blinking.
Paris kept breathing.
âHi,â she giggled.
His thumb traced slow circles at her waist, grounding, absentminded, affectionate, while his lips drifted down the side of her neck, just enough to make her tilt her head without even thinking about it.
She giggled again, soft and melodic, her fingers curling into the front of his shirt as she leaned into him. The sound of the Seine rippling behind them mingled with the shimmer of laughter that only Tyriq ever got out of her. She tilted her head just enough to feel his lips ghost over the pulse at her neck again, her gold hoops brushing his cheek.
âYou really tryna do this right now?â she asked, voice low, teasingâtrying to sound unaffected even as her knees dipped a little from how warm his mouth made her feel.
Tyriq smiled against her skin.
Didnât even flinch.
âIâve been tryna do this, Celeste.â
She pulled back just enough to see his face, her arms still looped around his shoulders. Her eyes searched his, glittering in the Paris lights. She studied the boyish curve of his smirk, the reverence in the way he held her like he was scared sheâd float away. And she realized: he wasnât playing.
âOkay,â she said, quieter this time. âSo how many?â
He didnât hesitate.
âThree.â
She blinked.
âThree?â
âOne for you. One for me. One thatâs wild as hell and breaks both our spirits but we still love 'em anyway.â
She laughed again, burying her face in his chest.
âYou want me barefoot, pregnant, and covered in babies, huh?â
He slid his fingers beneath her chin and tilted her face back up gently.
âI want you happy. I want you glowing. I want your name on all their birth certificates. I want to wake up in the middle of the night and see you in the rocking chair with one of âem, whisperinâ nursery rhymes in that soft voice you think I donât hear.â
Celesteâs throat tightened.
Suddenly it wasnât so funny anymore. Suddenly she could see it. And it scared the hell out of her.
âTyriqâŚâ she started, but the words got stuck in her chest.
He nodded slowly, kissed her forehead.
âYou ainât gotta say nothinâ yet. Just⌠just let me keep picturinâ it. Let me dream it out loud until you see it too.â
And with her arms around his waist, head on his chest, and the lights of the Eiffel Tower flickering behind them, Celeste whispered:
âAlright. Dream, then.â
âI already am,â he murmured.
âMe and you, Celeste.â
His voice was quiet when he said it, not dramatic, not loud, just certain, like he was placing something fragile and valuable down between them and trusting her not to let it fall.
She looked up at him then, really looked at him, eyes soft, mouth curved into that small smile that only ever showed up when she felt safe.
âMe and you, baby,â she echoed, just as steady, just as sure.
And it wasnât a promise in the loud sense.
It wasnât fireworks or vows or declarations meant for anyone else to hear.
It was a choosing.
Right there on the banks of the river.
Under blinking lights and borrowed stars.
With the city breathing around them like a witness.
Just two people saying yes to each other â quietly, intentionally, and without needing anything more than that.
And later that night, when she moaned his name in that same hotel suite, in that same prone bone position with his hand wrapped around her throat and the Eiffel Tower glowing through the windowâŚ
Maybeâjust maybeâthatâs when Solène Withers was first wished into existence.
@mamasturn @sheinaskirt @authentic-girl03 @k0niiii-blog @trustmymood @glizzymcguirex @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @blackfemreaderr @blckblossom @trustmymood @unicoo ( lmk if you want to be added or removed!)
âIt ainât none of your friends business what we will be doing tonightâ
warnings: 18+ content (MNI), toxic/dark! Cameron Cade x girlfriend! reader (Danielle Young), pregnancy/baby trapping, manipulation, obsession, infatuation, Cameron is on a power trip, cussing/swearing, talks of abortion, smut, love making/romantic ass shit, dark themes and tropes. SECRET ENDING!
a.n: heyyy stinks! đ sadly, this is the end of the road for this story, no I will not be doing another part so pls donât ask đ but I hope yâall have enjoyed the ride so far :,) heed those warnings and enjoyyy!
on the jukebox: ânone of ur friendâs businessâ by ginuwine đ
It had been the longest week of your life since the deception of your boyfriend was revealed. Boyfriend? He felt like an ex now but that didnât matter.
You werenât leaving, you couldnât leave.
You laid in bed, your back facing the door. It was easy to become depressed these days. Time melted into nothing but the same old feeling.
What wouldâve occupied you with spreadsheets and phone calls has since ceased, Cameron called your job on your behalf to tell them you werenât coming in anymore. Not even maternity leave, you just werenât employed there at all.
He cooked and cleaned as your pregnancy slowly began progressing. And slow it was despite the closeness in days.
Morning sickness was merely morning nausea, you never vomited thankfully but the urge to do so was intense. Nothing that Ginger ale couldnât fix.
The sound of the bedroom door opening had you curious but you didnât dignify that with looking over your shoulder. It was Cameron, you knew that.
The tall man stood at the threshold, leaning against the doorframe.
âYou hungry? I made you somethingâ
You shook your head, readjusting your resting position away from him. You didnât have an appetite nor did you want anything Cameron made.
You were still sick at the thought of his reveal that he baby trapped you to keep you at his side.
Soon you heard shuffling on the carpet and a dip in the bed near you. Still, you didnât look. You felt his hand on your hip and drag up to your back.
âBabyâs making you sick?â
You shook your head again. ââM just not hungry, Cameronâ
He nodded, going to caress your back in circles. âOkay.. Iâll save it for you for later. Can I get you anymore ginger ale or water? Fruit at the very least? I went to the store yesterday and got fruit the doctor recommended for your first trimester.. said the first is always the worst. I just want to be here for you as much as I can, baeâ
Because you were facing away from him, you happily rolled your eyesâ your now teary eyes. You were really stuck.
You made the mistake of wiping at your face, Cameron Cade knew what that meant. You cursed internally when he easily turned your body around and brought you into his arms.
âCameron, stopââ
âNo, donât even try to fight it. Just relaxâ
Your head rested on his chest against your will, you tried to steady your breathing as more tears slipped down your cheeks. Your own arms cradled your body, not daring to hug Cameron back.
He didnât care, as long as he could hold you. He rubbed your back some more.
âItâll all be alright, I promise. You donât gotta worry about a thing, Iâll be here for you every step of the way. Itâs hard to see this for what it is now but this baby is our miracle workerâ
You didnât meet Cameronâs eyes when he cupped your face. You couldnât.
âJust trust me. Everything will be okayâ
But the next day proved Cameron Cade wrong. He sat in the living room while you surfed online on your laptop, but all wasnât calm.
âYouâve never been as supportive as you like to say you wereâ you couldnât help but to get frustrated, your phone on speaker and right next to your laptop.
Cameron couldnât help but to tune out his football game in one ear and tune into your conversation with the other.
âI just feel like your advice is bullshit, Mikayla. Yours, Jackieâs, Kiaraâsâ everybodyâs. This is one of the most stressful times in my life and you canât even be a friend enough to make sure Iâm good. Youâre so quick to diss my relationship and Iâm getting tired of that shitâ
Cameron only made out a few mumbled words, assuming from Kayla through the phone. But your voice cut through once more.
âThat doesnât even matter but okay. Youâre not really hearing me or trying to understand what I have to say. Youâre not even focused on making things rightââ
Cameron leaned in closer even going as far as turning down the volume of the TV.
âMikayla, you called me stupid. Stupid, dumb, and an idiot, and youâre upset at me for defending myself?â
Another moment of static mumbling.
âIf you arenât going to apologize to me like a real friendâ you and the other girls because itâs clear yâall are playing follow the leaderâ then youâre done in my book. You and the rest of them, I donât careâ
More static mumbling. Like the sick guy he was, Cameron Cade only smiled at your words. Was this vindication?
âYeah, whatever, goodbyeâ
Cameron quickly fixed his nosy posture and focused on the tv screen once he heard you emerging from the bedroom.
You walked straight into the kitchen and into the fridge. âCam, is there any more ginger ale?â
Cameron coughed out a response, praying he didnât expose himself for eavesdropping. âY-yeah, I put a few cans in the freezer for youâ
He watched you search the freezer and find what you were looking for.
âEverything okay?â He asked, you looked over at him. âI just heard you yelling.. wanted to give you your space without interveningâ
You waved him off, âDonât worry about that, itâs fine. Just had to cut off my best friend of ten years plus so..â you cracked open the can and took a sip. âBut no seriously, donât worry. Iâm done with liars and fake peopleâ
You didnât say another word before grabbing a snack and retreating back to the bedroom with the close of the door.
Cameron Cadeâs smile was something like the chesire cat. He wasnât going to say he told you so at all, it wasnât what you wanted to hear.
But to him.. it was a win in his book.
.
Cameron Cade finally felt like things were going well again.
Maybe he had to let you have your space for you to start coming around. And that you did. It wasnât like a flipped switched but a gradual shift.
He was back sleeping in the bed with you and you were fine with cuddling. One arm above your head, the other wrapped around your stomach, your back to his chest.
You werenât fully kissing him on the lips whenever he departed from work but Cameron accepted a kiss on the cheek. At least you hugged him too.
You came around to talking to him a bit more. Your tone still hesitant but completely void of the ice and annoyance like before.
You hated that Cameron was back to making you laugh. He was a naturally funny guy and upon your walls slowly coming down, he made up for it with jokes and the humor you missed.
If that wasnât better, you were steadily getting back to cooking dinner for you two. Your cravings started getting frequent, you had certain tastes for things and it was better if you made it.
Something like a baked ziti pasta with salad on the side, Cameron could never cook pasta properly.
You stood at the stove, having just pulled out the pasta dish that was baking in the oven.
Ready to announce that the food was done, Cameron Cade appeared at your side. He slithered an arm around your waist and kissed your hair.
âAll done?â He muttered, you nodded and leaned into him.
âYou want salad too?â You asked, your boyfriend nodded.
âYes pleaseâ
You turned to grab two plates but Cameron Cade stopped you. He cupped your face and peered into your eyes, a soft smile pulling at his lips.
He felt his heart lurch at his ribcage with the more he looked at you. You, the love of his life. He leaned down and connected your lips, the first kiss in what felt like years.
He could feel your hesitation to kiss him back but you melted regardless.
âI love you. Thank youâ Cameron said against your lips once he pulled away.
Your smile was shy. âYouâre welcomeâ
You brought two plates to the dining room table where Cameron sat. A full meal and Pepsi for him, a salad and ginger ale for yourself. He didnât take long to start digging in, you watched him as you forked your salad.
âYou really do make pasta better than me, Danielle. This is so goodâ
You winked, cracking open your ginger ale and taking a sip.
âWell thank you. Iâll end up fixing me a plate later, this salad and ginger ale is keeping my nausea at bayâ
It was your turn to sigh. âIâll be glad when out of the first trimester. Iâm nauseous, exhausted, sleeping all day, can barely eat. Iâm drained to say the leastâ
Cameron reached over and interlocked your hand on the table. Sympathy swished through his eyes in a way that still had your stomach plummeting.
Were you coming around to him? Yes. But the cold reality that your pregnancy wasnât planned how you dreamed was something you still thought about.
âItâs not even just this though. I know I told you not to worry but having to cut off my best friend since high school still hurts. I cried that night. Iâd never thought our journey ended the way it didâ
His thumb brushed over the front of your hand, caressing the skin supportively.
âShe and the girls always looked at me like theyâd never seen someone in love. Always giving me opinions and advice that I never asked forâ
Cameron Cade felt the itch crawl up his spine, the itch to validate his own vindication that your friends werenât shit at all. He really didnât want to say he told you so.
âYeah.. itâs a really unfortunate situation, baby, Iâm sorry that youâre going through this. The timing is awful. Itâs even sadder because sheâs seen the ins and outs of your life. To suddenly end that over a relationship she wasnât apart of is really fucking stupidâ
You nodded in agreement, taking a sip of your ginger ale. âAs shitty as a friend sheâs been acting, she did give me a piece of advice that actually made senseâ
You squeezed Cameronâs hand, looking at him. His eyebrows raised in curiosity.
âShe told me âYou are still Danielle Young with or without Cameron Cade. I know that you know that but does he know that?ââ
Cameron gulped, still watching you. âAt first I couldnât really see what she meant by that because my love for you exceeded everything and everybody. Iâll do anything for you, Cameronâ
You leaned over and kissed the front of his hand.
âAt least I thought I did. Bed ridden and wallowing in my depression, I realized that my life wasnât over just because someoneâs never told you no. Iâve always told you that Iâm nothing like the bitches in your past that let you scream, cry, yell, and holler to get your way.. I donât think you really took me seriouslyâ
You glanced up, watching the mask of your boyfriend start to slip and crack. He wore the softest grimace on his gorgeous face but still tried to smirk.
âI might not be the loudest bitch youâve ever dealt with but I promise you Iâm the smartestâ
You leaned back in your seat and took another drink from your can.
âYou can think youâre quick but Iâm quickerâ you made sure to look Cameron square in the eye as you revealed papers from underneath you. Placing them on the table, you pushed them towards him.
Cameron Cade skillfully kept his burning anger contained. Snatching the papers from in front of him, he read. His eyebrows jumped in surprise, a dark chuckle leaving him.
ââGot some balls on you, huh? My babyâs gone? My daughter? My son? Gone, huh?â
You nodded surely, âyou donât know really know me as well as you say you do, babyâ
Cameron Cade took a beat to respond, he merely stared at you. All he could muster was a sarcastic chuckle. He silently stood with his plate, walked over to the oven and helped himself to more pasta.
Your eyes followed him the entire time. He plopped back into place and began tucking in.
âYâknow, I gotta give it to you, Danielleâ he said after swallowing and wiping his mouth with a table cloth, âI respect your ambition and this petty need to prove me wrong but I know itâll be short livedâ
You let him continue to talk, your own sense of anger building and burning.
âI know you. I know your body, I know your mind. It didnât take shit for me to keep you from leaving that one night and that says a lot about you. I love you to death but youâre weak. Weak, gullible, easy to manipulate. I can just fuck you and knock you up againâ
You bit the inside of your cheek, you had to keep yourself calm.
âBelieve me when I say, there isnât anything you can do to me that wonât ruin my life or yoursâ
You let out a breath and gave Cameron Cade a solemn like smile.
âWould you believe me if I said I already have? And Iâm not talking about the abortionâ
Almost as if on cue, Cameron Cade felt all internal rushing and signals suddenly halt. Halt, freeze, stop. He sat rigid in the kitchen chair, a frown settling deep on his eyebrows and staring at you from across the table.
âItâs not poison I put in the pasta but a pretty strong paralytic thatâs going to keep you like this for hours.. days evenâ
Cameron Cade somehow still attempted to move, his loss of function and frustration because of it had him choking out a growl of anger. His pretty face now red and ready to go.
âAnd when it finally wears off, youâll be so disoriented and slow that your body wonât have a choice but to shut down. Howâs that for weak?â
All he could do was watch you move but even then, his sight was going a soft daze view.
You stood and rounded the table, not saying another word. You simply reached into the coat closet and put on a jacket, grabbing your hefty purse of prepacked essentials. Your shoes were last.
With one look over your shoulders, Cameron Cade was so rigid that his lower limbs had given up, taking him to the grounds of the hardwood floor.
It was beyond rigidity, he couldnât feel a fucking thing. It also burned like a bitch.
With one final approach to Cameron, you bent down to meet his face. âI didnât need to go through the pain by you to know that Iâve been a fighter. You canât control me anymore, Cameron Cadeâ
And with that, you were hauling ass out of the apartment. The fresh air kissed your face when you pushed open the main door. You didnât make it three feet outside without the sound of a blaring car horn alerting you.
Waving from her Nissan Altima stopped in the middle of the street, Mikayla Wallace honked at you from the driverâs side.
âDani!â Mikayla called out, âcome on, letâs go, letâs go!â
Seeing your best friend and hero had you tearing up with every step you ran towards her car. You hurriedly helped yourself inside.
âOh shit, wait!â You reached into your jacket pocket and grabbed your phone. Out of your window, you harshly threw the device to the groundâ destroying it. âOkay, letâs go!â
And to Mikayla Wallace, that was all she needed to hear.
.
âYou know as much as I love being a here at Aunt Lisaâs house, I canât stay here forever. Not even for another dayâ
You sat on the guest bed of Mikaylaâs auntâs condo. Four bed and two bath, Aunt Lisa lived large and took charge.
Mikayla sat next to you, she nodded both in solemn and sympathy. âThe least I can offer you is somewhere to eat, sleep, and clean up while youâre planningâ
You smiled and rested your head on her shoulder. âYou also got me a new phone so youâre kinda pushing it with meeting my basic needsâ
You both shared a laugh. A brand new iPhone with a registered number sat in your purse, it was a gesture by your best friend that she thought of on her own.. given the situation.
The elephant in the room was huge but it wasnât one you had to touch on. You and Mikayla knew, what was understood didnât have to be explained.
Truth be told, Mikayla Wallace knew your entire plan. With her help, she was your sanctuary and safe haven. You just had to make it convincing to Cameron that you were finally Mikayla free, all to win his trust.
âAny idea where youâre heading?â She mumbled for you to hear, her head now resting on yours. You nodded.
âSomewhere far the fuck away from hereâ
And by the next day, thatâs just what was happening.
A morning as early as 4 AM had you at the airport, a barely packed luggage of clothes Mikayla let you take and your purse occupying your hands. Youâd made it through TSA and to your terminal.
Mikayla, draped in leggings and a hoodie, stood before you.
âThat phone has mine, all of the girlsâ numbers, and Aunt Lisaâs too, I had that queued up before giving you the phone. Promise weâll talk everyday?â
You both interlocked pinkies, you brought her in for a hug you both needed.. and was going to desperately miss.
âFuck everyday, every damn hourâ you both laughed. âbut I promise to keep you in the loop about everything. I feel like Iâve been saying it so much lately but thank you. Weâve always been lifelines for each other.. couldnât ask for a better oneâ
Mikayla squeezed you before pulling back and kissing your cheek. âAnything you want or need, do not hesitate to call me or Aunt Lisa. Get yourself situated and weâll come see youâ
You didnât get the chance to say anything other than another hug and goodbye, your flight was now boarding.
Blowing Mikayla one last kiss, you got yourself in line and getting your ticket checked. Down the runway you went until you were on the aircraft, looking for your seat.
When you found it, you finally let out a breath of relief.
It was go time. Finally the plane started into turbulence before setting off.
You watched the takeoff and with your headphones on, you closed your eyes.
.
ELEVEN MONTHS LATER â NOW
âBaby, Iâm home! You in here?â
You smiled as you continued washing your clean up dishes, having just finished preparing for dinner to cook.
âIâm in here! Câmere so I can kiss youâ
Hearing his chuckle was enough to make you blush as you wiped your hands with a paper towel.
Finally rounding the corner and entering the space, the light in your boyfriendâs eyes was loving.
ââSaid you wanted to kiss me, huh?â He grinned, âI might need more than that since you look so fucking good. Câmere, girlâ
Falling into the arms of him was your favorite parts of the day. Like magnets, your lips found one another. Something soft, sensual, and light. Enough to say: âwelcome homeâ.
âMister Rafe Cameron, you clean up great for the office. Had I known you left looking this good, I wouldâve made you stay homeâ
Rafe Cameron chuckled, his adorable dimples in both of his cheeks. His hands playfully patted your denim blue jean covered ass before walking over to the stove.
âWhatâs on the menu tonight?â
âRed wine short rib beef tips with some mashed potatoes and broccoli. Howâs that sound?â
âLike I need to marry you tomorrowâ
You only giggled, blushing wildly. âWell, the crockpot is still going so weâve gotta wait on that. Shouldnât be any longer, itâs been going for a while nowâ
Rafe smiled and approached you, his hands on your waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck.
âSo youâre saying weâve got time?â
You grinned, âa lot of timeâ
Thatâs how you and Rafe found yourselves on the living room couch, wine glasses in your hands. You were standing in his lap, his free arm around your waist to keep you in place.
Conversation flowed easily between you and Rafe. No phones just soft music in the background as you and Rafe talked about your day.
You met Rafe Cameron two months into moving away. You were the front desk receptionist to the law firm he was working at.
The interest was mutual once you saw him walk into the building. You remembered him doing a soft double take before introducing himself to you, asking if you were new. It was history ever since then.
He made it a point to learn more about you and softly flirt with you every chance he got. He couldnât bring himself to not court you. Flowers on the pick up, on the way in was a must fate two weeks of talking and getting to know one another.
He was your confidant and your best friend. To Rafe, you were the light of his life. He seriously had plans of marrying you.
The flowed conversation was cut off by the sound of your crockpot and the doorbell. You and Rafe perked up.
âIâll get the food, you get the door?â You promoted. Rafe nodded.
âOf course, i got itâ
You shuffled off of Rafe and back into the kitchen. You could make out the sounds from the front as you checked on your beef tipsâ tender and saturated.
âOh shit, good to see you! You came at the perfect time, dinnerâs almost readyâ
Your brows softly furrowed. You werenât expecting company, not your friends from work nor did Rafe tell you anything.
âHey Dani! Come on by, baby, I want you to meet someoneâ
Removing your apron, you trotted out of the kitchen, just after alerting Rafe that you were on the way.
Approaching the front door, Rafe stood with another man just as tall as him if not taller. If you were carrying a glass, you wouldâve dropped and shattered it. You were surprised your knees didnât give out.
âDanielle, I want you to meet my new friend from work. This is Cameron Cade, heâs a new analyst execâ Rafe smiled, âCameron, this is my girlfriend, Danielleâ
You stood frozen in place, time reducing down to something impossibly slow. Was this real? That was until he smiled and held out his hand.
âHi Danielle, Iâm Cameron. Nice to meet you, Iâve heard so much about youâ
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the enddd. thank you for reading, bae. @zunibugsiren @daniiibananiii đ
1. Only write smut when youâre actually in the mood. I actually prefer to write smut when Iâm ovulating for this very reason. This method gives me connection to the writing rather than just putting the ole, âhe stuck it in her and they finished.â Iâm putting my entire fantasy on that page and if itâs not something I want then Iâm not writing it.
2.Try looking at movies that have the kind of scene youâre trying to emulate. Whats the energy in the room beforehand?
3. Everything that the characters do BEFORE they start the act is just as important as the scene itself. Etch out how the room feels. What are the micro expression of the characters that suggest something is going to happen? Where are they ? What are they talking about ? What inner feelings is the main character or characters having ? Ect
4. Break the act up into foreplay, the act, and after. Itâs okay to build the scene in pieces. Also, sometimes you just have to start writing to build the bones of the scenes and then add onto it bit by bit to make it translate better. You donât have to start writing from the top of the scene. What comes to you first ? What resonates with you first ?
5. Figure out whoâs who âin bedâ. Some people prefer to take the lead and others donât. Some people are more vocal and others arenât.
6. Take your time in a scene. Do not rush. Make sure everything is accounted for. What did each character do to make the other person feel comfortable? What acts of service are they providing? And once you know make sure that the characters experience that fully.
7. Take what makes you comfortable as a person and how youâd like to be treated and apply that. Go within the parameters of what youâre comfortable with writing. If you donât want to use certain words than donât. If you do? Then do it.
I've been working on this piece in my notebook for about 2 weeks now. I've been reading so much smut on here lately to try and get back into a groove. it's been so long since I've written anything. I have my ideas, the pencil and the paper. ive got 7 pages so far but the rest of words will come when they feel like it. this list is so helpful.
âIt ainât none of your friends business what we will be doing tonightâ
warnings: 18+ content (MNI), toxic! Cameron Cade x girlfriend! reader (Danielle Young), toxic relationships, manipulation, gaslighting, cussing/swearing, use of the n word, dark! Cameron lowkey.. , obsession, infatuation, implied sexual content.
a.n: hiii stinkies! thank you all for the love on the first part! I hope this second part lives up to what youâve been expecting and I can confidently say.. there will be a third and final part! đ¤ I might have that out by the end of the week or this weekend!! Anyway, heed these warnings (smut in the next part), and enjoyy!
face claim is the stunning alexis radcliff âď¸
on the jukebox: ânone of ur friendâs businessâ by ginuwine đ
âIâm just glad Iâm sitting here with you and you arenât having my head right nowâ
Sitting in the booth of your favorite brunch spot, you and Mikayla Wallace were finally touching base. Having put in orders for appetizers and water, you and your best friend were chilling.
It felt really good. It was always a good time with her.
You and Mikayla share a genuine laugh, her arms wrapping you in a hug.
âGirl, please. Iâve heard worse and seen worse within this friend group. Niggas are unfortunately going to be niggasâ
You giggled and nodded in agreement. âIf it makes you feel better, I got on his ass that next morning like.. cussed him out so bad that he was scared to talk to me for the rest of the dayâ
Mikaylaâs smile never left her face despite her sigh. âHow are yâall doing anyway? I was surprised the party still continued after that. I saw you as you were dragging his tall ass out, you were madââ
âMad as hell! He made me so upset but weâve talked since then, weâre better. Heâs just.. sometimes he gets into these fits where he swears something bad is going to happen in our relationship and Iâm always reassuring him. I have no problem doing that but sometimes his paranoia has him tripping for no reasonâ
Mikayla nodded understandingly, letting you continue.
âYou know he basically spent his early life without his family. He sees his Mom very seldom and.. yâknow his Dad died so, Iâm always there to be his girlfriend and his best friend âcause he really doesnât have anybodyâ
Mikayla nodded again. âAnd I can understand that, Iâm not knocking that at all, please hear me clearly when I say that, Dani. I think with the girls and Iâ our whole thing is he just doesnât let you live sometimes. Or he swears we donât respect your relationship and we do!â
You nodded as well, taking the hands of your best friend.
âBut there isnât anything wrong with having your own crowd outside of your relationship. Youâre still Danielle Young with or without Cameron Cadeâ and I know you know that, but does he know that?â
Mikaylaâs question was rhetorical but it kept you deep thought even throughout the day.
The brunch date of two easily turned into a girls day when the rest of your girlfriends pulled up. The booth filled up but accommodated all six of you.
For the first time in a while, you felt like you could breathe differently.
Life felt goodâ your relationship was going well, your job was stable, your bills were paid, and you still had your girlfriends.
You laughed hard, smiled a lot, and enjoyed yourself. So much that time was hardly a thing you thought about..
Brunch turned into shopping at the mall and leaving with bags on top of your to-go package bags. The mall then ended with bowling.
After entering in your names in the respective orders into the monitor, the girls were deciding on food and drinks.
âWhat are you thinking, Dani?â Mikayla asked, the laminated menu in her hand as she sat next to you.
âDo you wanna split some wings and fries with me? Looks like theyâre batching a lot for just one personâ
âHot or mild?â
âLetâs do half and half. One half hot and the other.. honey barbecue? Ranch for that and the fries?â
Mikayla nodded in satisfaction, happy to pay for the food while you paid for the drinks.
Twenty minutes into the game, your food arrived, being sat on the expansive table along with your drinks. Sitting next to Kayla, you were ready to tuck into your food.
You grabbed a regular doused hot wing and as soon as the strong scent filled your nostrils, you immediately put the wing back down.
It felt more than just the hot scent that burned your nose, the smell went straight to your stomach and you wanted to vomit.
âYou okay, Dani?â Kayla asked glancing at you, sheâd already began eating at one of the wings on the platter. Concern etched on her face.
âI.. I donât know. Somebody in that kitchen probably used the whole damn bottle of hot sauce on our wings, the smell is just too strongâ
Kayla agreed. âYouâre probably still full from brunchâ
That made sense. You instead focused on the fries and sipped your Sprite carefully. You hated having to throw up, especially when you werenât in the comfort of your own home. You just had to keep it together.
After hugging and kissing your girlfriends goodbye, you hopped into your car and headed home.
The clock rang 7:00 PM from your car phone, you were tired. The high of today would soon be worn off once you stepped into your apartment.
You smiled at your boyfriend who sat on the couch, he faced the front door, almost like he was expecting you.
âHi babyâ you placed your bags on the kitchen counter and approached him to greet him. âHow are you?â
You placed your hands on his shoulder and leaned in to kiss but he pulled back, avoiding it.
âDonât come in here doinâ that. You didnât see me callinâ and texting you?â
You frowned and searched for your phone in your purse. Upon expanding the notifications as your phone was in Do Not Disturb, your mouth dropped in surprise.
âHeart and Soul â¤ď¸â â missed calls (10)
âHeart and Soul â¤ď¸â â messages (20)
âYou said youâd be home at 5, why are you walking in this house two hours after what you told me?â
You closed your eyes in building guilt, you fucked up.
You walked back over to your boyfriend, sitting down next to him. The remorse and guilt on your pretty face almost had Cameron Cade crumbling but he knew had to stand firm.
âIâm sorry, babyââ
âCâmon, Danielleâ Cameron rolled his eyes. âWere you just not looking at your phone at all?â
âI was with the girls. At first it turned into just Kayla and I, and then Denise, Jackie, and Kiara pulled up and.. I just lost track of timeâ
All Cameron Cade could do was sigh and shake his head. He felt his anger already bubbling into something worse and he tried his best to chill out.
âI didnât mean to keep you here worried and stressed out, I swear. You know how it is when I get with the girls, I just be having so much fun that I barely check my phoneââ
âAnd thatâs exactly why I donât like you being with them, Danielle. You donât see how bad of an influence they can be on you? Youâre so invested in them that you canât check in with me? At least let me know that youâre safe and planning to stay out later?â
You stayed silent, trying not to give Cameron that attitude back because in a way, his anger was justified. Youâd be on him the same way if the roles were reversed.
He was right but damn, it was hard to accept.
âIâm sorryâ you muttered, âit wonât happen again, I promiseâ
Cameron Cade took another look at your sad, pouty face. You truly felt bad and he felt heâd grilled you enough.
He sighed and smoothly brought your body into his lap, his arms around your waist. âLook at meâ he mumbled, his hand slithering up to gently grab your chin, forcing you to meet his eye.
âI love you, girl and I swear I donât mean to worry or make you worry whenever youâre out. I want you to have fun, bae, but can you understand why Iâm upset?â
You nodded your head vigorously. âAbsolutely, thatâs why I feel bad. I definitely let time get the best of me but I still shouldâve communicated that with you. Thereâs no excuse, Iâm sorryâ
Finally, Cameron Cadeâs eyes softened and smiled gently. Pulling you by your chin, his lips lovingly captured yours, you felt yourself relax and melt into your boyfriend.
âI forgive youâ Cameron mumbled against your lips, still keeping himself close. âJust please talk to me, thatâs all I askâ
Nodding, you held your pinky out for him. Your gentle giant chuckled and wrapped his pinky around yours.
âI love you, Camâ
âI love you, Danielleâ
.
âIsnât this outfit so cute? Doesnât it look good on me?â You called out to Cameron from the bathroom.
Cameron Cadeâs approached the opened bathroom, watching you finish touching up your hair. He felt his suspicions begin to raise.
âYou look sexy as fuckâ he leaned in and kissed the side of your brown lip lined lips, careful not to mess up your makeup. His hand slapping with your ass. âWhere you going tonight? I thought we were gonna chill out.. watch some movies and shitâ
Still focusing on your hair, you responded. âItâs Kaylaâs birthday. Weâre all going to dinner together and probably chill at the lounge downtown. I told Kayla my cut off is 10 PM so Iâll be strict, I promiseâ
Cameron frowned softly. You met his eye through the mirror. âI told you about this a few days ago, you said it was okay as long as I made it back on time.. thatâs how we came up with 10 PMâ
Cameron Cade remembered and he did okay you going out. But Cameron Cade couldnât bring himself to give a fuck about that.
He wanted you all to himself.
âBaby, whenâs the last time we had a date? Or some actual time to spend together?â
You closed your eyes, âCameron, please donât do thisââ
âIâm just asking! It feels like the only times we see each other is after weâre working or when weâre fucking. We havenât spent real time together like you spend with your friendsâ
âThatâs bullshit and you know it. You do this every time I want to go out and thatâs really fucked up. I never do this to you when you go out with your coworkers or your friends from college, do I?â
Cameron rolled his eyes, walking out of the bathroom. You only followed him, officially irritated.
âNo, answer me! Do I trip on you when you want to go out the way you trip on me?â Cameron Cade didnât answer, plopping down on the couch.
âNo? Exactly. And in my opinion, your friends are even more questionable than mine but do you see me making a big deal? No, you donâtâ
You watched your boyfriend ignore your gaze, he was shutting down, you could see it in his body language.
âCan I have this last night and I promise you, itâll be about you and me for however longâ
Cameron didnât respond, instead you made out his watering eyes and soft red face. Cameron Cade rarely cried, even when heâd have moments of grief over his fatherâs death, he never cried.. or tried his best not to.
âCamââ
He waved you off, ânah itâs okay, donât even worry about it. Youâre right, I did agree to you going out so go have fun. Just come back home, pleaseâ
He tried to walk past you but you grabbed his arm, stopped him completely. With a cupped hand on his face, you watched a few tears stream down his pretty face.
âBaby, stop itâ you swiped a tear with your thumb, âwhyâre you crying?â
Cameronâs pink tinted eyes met yours, you felt your heart lurch. âI just miss you, Dani. I miss us. I miss us going on dates, I miss us hanging out, I miss everything. Maybe Iâm being selfish but youâre my best friend. I have the most fun with you and itâs hard sharing youâ
One hand on his face turned into both, your fingers continuing to wipe away his tears. Sympathy coated your insides, you hated that Cameron felt neglected.
âBut I donât want you to think Iâm controlling you so please, go have fun. Just text me and come home in one piece. I love youâ
Maybe you were being selfish with how much time you werenât home. Maybe that scale was tipped too far away from your relationship. Maybe Cameron was right.
Standing on your tippy toes, you leaned in and kissed Cameron softly on the lips. His arms stretched around your waist, bringing you close to him. You pulled back to peer into his greenish hazels.
âOkayâ you whispered, âIâll stay. Itâs all about me and you tonight, âyeah?â
Cameron only kissed you again in response to your words. Like he was saying thank you.
Cameron watched you unravel yourself from him and go back to grab your phone, he heard you sigh quietly. You were already breaking the news to your best friend of your change of plans.
You brushed past him and into your shared bedroom, undressing yourself from your occasion outfit.
In Cameron Cadeâs eyes, this was a win. Even if it meant guilt tripping.. even if it meant victimizing a reality of your relationship that wasnât really a reality⌠even if it meant forcing out some tears.
He won, thatâs all that matters.
.
The more you thought about that night you missed Mikaylaâs birthday, the more angrier you grew.
You spent the night with Cameron. You talked, laughed, ate, and finished the night with Cameron burying you deep in your bed.
But that following morning after he kissed you goodbye for work, you stayed in your head.
You actually hadnât hung out with your friends as much as Cameron tried to accuse you of. You were just as introverted as him and preferred staying in to hang out with him.
Not to mention, you never threw tantrums whenever Cameron wanted to leave the house for some time. No matter how full of shit his own friends were.
The more you thought, the more you realized that Cameron Cade was trying to isolate you. His possessiveness was hidden by an insane amount of toxicity and insecurity.
The night where you left Jacy Kaneâs party, where Cameron got into it with your former classmate. He alluded to you cheating on him when really, you were raving about Cameron to the guy.
Your loyalty exceeded more than even Cameron Cade knew. You bent a lot of your boundaries to please him and what was he doing? Accusing you of cheating and icing you out from your friends.
You became standoffish, a bit more short and annoyed with your boyfriend. Not to mention youâd come down with a sickness that had you bed ridden and missing work.
Youâd thankfully started feeling better but you had your own plan. You just had to play up being sick a little longer to make it real.
âCan I get you anything, baby?â Cameron leaned down at the edge of the bed to meet your sulking face. His hand pushed your hair back, care in his eyes.
âIâm fine, Cam, thank youâ you mumbled just briefly meeting those same eyes. He nodded and kissed your forehead.
âOkay, well text me if you need anything and Iâll drop by. Any updates on your tests results? Is it the flu or something?â
You shook your head. âNothing yet but I can smell and taste so I donât think itâs Covid. I just donât feel good right now, Camâ
He nodded and kissed your head again. âI know, bae. Call me if you need anything at allâ
You sent him the fakest smile you could muster up, he still was in hot water with you. You waited a ten minutes after the front door closed and locked before hauling yourself up.
Your patience was thin and you had enough. You texted Mikayla and told her you were coming over, you just had to pack some bags.
And packed you did. Clothes, body products, hair products, you had to make sure you had enough to suffice.
You sat your bags on the couch and sat there waiting. Before you could depart to Kaylaâs, you wanted to give Cameron Cade a piece of your mind.
.
It felt like forever when Cameron came in the door. You sat on the couch next to your bags, dressed in basic lounge clothes, and ready to go.
âHey babyâ Cameron mumbled, his sights taking in the scene in front of him. âWhatâs this?â
You sighed. âIâm going to Kaylaâs for a little bit and youâre not stopping me. I need space, Cameron. Lately it feels like youâve been trying to control my life and dictate what I get to do with and without you, and I canât do that anymoreâ
Cameron Cade stood silently, letting you rant. But his calm demeanor threw you off a little bit, only because you didnât know what to expect.
âIâm not saying we need to break up but I need you in the doghouse until Iâm ready to let you out. Iâve been nothing but loyal and supportive of your needs and you canât meet mine without an issue. Iâm doneâ
You watched Cameron nod, still not saying anything.
âYou donât have anything to say?â You prompted now standing in the middle of the living room.
Cameron opened his mouth and closed it. He instead walked over to one of the drawers in the kitchen, revealing a set of papers.
âWould you believe me if I said I saw this coming?â He flipped through the papers until he came upon a specific page.
âAnd not because of my actions in the way you think but because.. I planned all of this..â
Cameron stalked towards you, the paper in his hand. âAll I had to do was cause a âlil tension.. argue a bit more.. maybe shed a few tears and become way more insufferable enough for you to want to break up with me. I drove you to this feeling on purposeâ
Your heart only sunk deeper into your chest as Cameron spoke more. None of what he was saying was making any sense.
âAnd why? Because as much as you think youâre leaving me.. youâre not leaving me, Danielle. Not with thisâ
You watched your boyfriend hold the paper out for you to take, and when you did, you wanted to faint.
It was more than the test results to your swabs of Covid or flu strains but.. a positive HCG test result. You wereâ
âI know how you feel about abortion, you wouldnât kill my babyâ the sickest smirk pulled on Cameronâs face. He caught sight of your teary eyes, still staring at the positive test result.
âI already loved the feeling of cumming inside of you but when I saw that you started putting your hoe ass friends before me, I knew I had to speed up our future a bit faster. A future without them in itâ
The tears finally came down your cheeks. âYou trapped me?â
His hands came down on your shoulders, his lips near your ear. âI secured you.. to me and me only. We made this baby out of nothing but love and you do know how much I love you, Danielleâ
Finally looking from the paper, you met the eyes of the man you thought you knew. His greenish hazels went a shade dark, his presence no longer comforted you but instead scared you.
Because he was right.. you were insanely pro choice but you know if you had the choice, you wouldnât resort to abortion. Youâd grow and raise your child no matter the circumstances.
To know Cameron got you pregnant on purpose simply to keep you bound to him was enough to make you want to die.
You felt his hand reach under your sweater and caress the smallest pudge in your stomach, it sent shivers down your spine.
âI know you still love me somewhere.. deep down. I know somewhere within you is actually excited about this, youâve always talked about being a mother. Youâre just a little mad at daddy and thatâs okay, youâll get over itâ
He cupped your face in his huge hands and took your lips into his. The kiss was a sensual rhythm like Cameron Cade was putting a spell on you. You felt more tears burn your eyes and slide down your cheeks.
â..Youâll get over it and eventually youâll understand my thinking. But for now? Right now? Youâre gonna take your purse off..â
Cameron moved his hands up from your stomach and cupped your breasts, his fingers brushing over your sensitive nipples, drawing out a hiss from you.
â.. take your hair down..â he kissed your lips, â..get out of those clothes until the only thing Iâm seeing is that necklace.. and lay right on that bed..â another kiss.
â..I think I wanna show you why I know youâre not leavinâ me..â
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âIt ainât none of your friends business what we will be doing tonightâ
warnings: 18+ content (MNI), toxic! Cameron Cade x girlfriend! reader (Danielle Young), toxic relationships, manipulation, gaslighting, cussing/swearing, use of the n word, dark! Cameron lowkey.. , obsession, infatuation, implied sexual content.
a.n: hiii stinkies! thank you all for the love on the first part! I hope this second part lives up to what youâve been expecting and I can confidently say.. there will be a third and final part! đ¤ I might have that out by the end of the week or this weekend!! Anyway, heed these warnings (smut in the next part), and enjoyy!
face claim is the stunning alexis radcliff âď¸
on the jukebox: ânone of ur friendâs businessâ by ginuwine đ
âIâm just glad Iâm sitting here with you and you arenât having my head right nowâ
Sitting in the booth of your favorite brunch spot, you and Mikayla Wallace were finally touching base. Having put in orders for appetizers and water, you and your best friend were chilling.
It felt really good. It was always a good time with her.
You and Mikayla share a genuine laugh, her arms wrapping you in a hug.
âGirl, please. Iâve heard worse and seen worse within this friend group. Niggas are unfortunately going to be niggasâ
You giggled and nodded in agreement. âIf it makes you feel better, I got on his ass that next morning like.. cussed him out so bad that he was scared to talk to me for the rest of the dayâ
Mikaylaâs smile never left her face despite her sigh. âHow are yâall doing anyway? I was surprised the party still continued after that. I saw you as you were dragging his tall ass out, you were madââ
âMad as hell! He made me so upset but weâve talked since then, weâre better. Heâs just.. sometimes he gets into these fits where he swears something bad is going to happen in our relationship and Iâm always reassuring him. I have no problem doing that but sometimes his paranoia has him tripping for no reasonâ
Mikayla nodded understandingly, letting you continue.
âYou know he basically spent his early life without his family. He sees his Mom very seldom and.. yâknow his Dad died so, Iâm always there to be his girlfriend and his best friend âcause he really doesnât have anybodyâ
Mikayla nodded again. âAnd I can understand that, Iâm not knocking that at all, please hear me clearly when I say that, Dani. I think with the girls and Iâ our whole thing is he just doesnât let you live sometimes. Or he swears we donât respect your relationship and we do!â
You nodded as well, taking the hands of your best friend.
âBut there isnât anything wrong with having your own crowd outside of your relationship. Youâre still Danielle Young with or without Cameron Cadeâ and I know you know that, but does he know that?â
Mikaylaâs question was rhetorical but it kept you deep thought even throughout the day.
The brunch date of two easily turned into a girls day when the rest of your girlfriends pulled up. The booth filled up but accommodated all six of you.
For the first time in a while, you felt like you could breathe differently.
Life felt goodâ your relationship was going well, your job was stable, your bills were paid, and you still had your girlfriends.
You laughed hard, smiled a lot, and enjoyed yourself. So much that time was hardly a thing you thought about..
Brunch turned into shopping at the mall and leaving with bags on top of your to-go package bags. The mall then ended with bowling.
After entering in your names in the respective orders into the monitor, the girls were deciding on food and drinks.
âWhat are you thinking, Dani?â Mikayla asked, the laminated menu in her hand as she sat next to you.
âDo you wanna split some wings and fries with me? Looks like theyâre batching a lot for just one personâ
âHot or mild?â
âLetâs do half and half. One half hot and the other.. honey barbecue? Ranch for that and the fries?â
Mikayla nodded in satisfaction, happy to pay for the food while you paid for the drinks.
Twenty minutes into the game, your food arrived, being sat on the expansive table along with your drinks. Sitting next to Kayla, you were ready to tuck into your food.
You grabbed a regular doused hot wing and as soon as the strong scent filled your nostrils, you immediately put the wing back down.
It felt more than just the hot scent that burned your nose, the smell went straight to your stomach and you wanted to vomit.
âYou okay, Dani?â Kayla asked glancing at you, sheâd already began eating at one of the wings on the platter. Concern etched on her face.
âI.. I donât know. Somebody in that kitchen probably used the whole damn bottle of hot sauce on our wings, the smell is just too strongâ
Kayla agreed. âYouâre probably still full from brunchâ
That made sense. You instead focused on the fries and sipped your Sprite carefully. You hated having to throw up, especially when you werenât in the comfort of your own home. You just had to keep it together.
After hugging and kissing your girlfriends goodbye, you hopped into your car and headed home.
The clock rang 7:00 PM from your car phone, you were tired. The high of today would soon be worn off once you stepped into your apartment.
You smiled at your boyfriend who sat on the couch, he faced the front door, almost like he was expecting you.
âHi babyâ you placed your bags on the kitchen counter and approached him to greet him. âHow are you?â
You placed your hands on his shoulder and leaned in to kiss but he pulled back, avoiding it.
âDonât come in here doinâ that. You didnât see me callinâ and texting you?â
You frowned and searched for your phone in your purse. Upon expanding the notifications as your phone was in Do Not Disturb, your mouth dropped in surprise.
âHeart and Soul â¤ď¸â â missed calls (10)
âHeart and Soul â¤ď¸â â messages (20)
âYou said youâd be home at 5, why are you walking in this house two hours after what you told me?â
You closed your eyes in building guilt, you fucked up.
You walked back over to your boyfriend, sitting down next to him. The remorse and guilt on your pretty face almost had Cameron Cade crumbling but he knew had to stand firm.
âIâm sorry, babyââ
âCâmon, Danielleâ Cameron rolled his eyes. âWere you just not looking at your phone at all?â
âI was with the girls. At first it turned into just Kayla and I, and then Denise, Jackie, and Kiara pulled up and.. I just lost track of timeâ
All Cameron Cade could do was sigh and shake his head. He felt his anger already bubbling into something worse and he tried his best to chill out.
âI didnât mean to keep you here worried and stressed out, I swear. You know how it is when I get with the girls, I just be having so much fun that I barely check my phoneââ
âAnd thatâs exactly why I donât like you being with them, Danielle. You donât see how bad of an influence they can be on you? Youâre so invested in them that you canât check in with me? At least let me know that youâre safe and planning to stay out later?â
You stayed silent, trying not to give Cameron that attitude back because in a way, his anger was justified. Youâd be on him the same way if the roles were reversed.
He was right but damn, it was hard to accept.
âIâm sorryâ you muttered, âit wonât happen again, I promiseâ
Cameron Cade took another look at your sad, pouty face. You truly felt bad and he felt heâd grilled you enough.
He sighed and smoothly brought your body into his lap, his arms around your waist. âLook at meâ he mumbled, his hand slithering up to gently grab your chin, forcing you to meet his eye.
âI love you, girl and I swear I donât mean to worry or make you worry whenever youâre out. I want you to have fun, bae, but can you understand why Iâm upset?â
You nodded your head vigorously. âAbsolutely, thatâs why I feel bad. I definitely let time get the best of me but I still shouldâve communicated that with you. Thereâs no excuse, Iâm sorryâ
Finally, Cameron Cadeâs eyes softened and smiled gently. Pulling you by your chin, his lips lovingly captured yours, you felt yourself relax and melt into your boyfriend.
âI forgive youâ Cameron mumbled against your lips, still keeping himself close. âJust please talk to me, thatâs all I askâ
Nodding, you held your pinky out for him. Your gentle giant chuckled and wrapped his pinky around yours.
âI love you, Camâ
âI love you, Danielleâ
.
âIsnât this outfit so cute? Doesnât it look good on me?â You called out to Cameron from the bathroom.
Cameron Cadeâs approached the opened bathroom, watching you finish touching up your hair. He felt his suspicions begin to raise.
âYou look sexy as fuckâ he leaned in and kissed the side of your brown lip lined lips, careful not to mess up your makeup. His hand slapping with your ass. âWhere you going tonight? I thought we were gonna chill out.. watch some movies and shitâ
Still focusing on your hair, you responded. âItâs Kaylaâs birthday. Weâre all going to dinner together and probably chill at the lounge downtown. I told Kayla my cut off is 10 PM so Iâll be strict, I promiseâ
Cameron frowned softly. You met his eye through the mirror. âI told you about this a few days ago, you said it was okay as long as I made it back on time.. thatâs how we came up with 10 PMâ
Cameron Cade remembered and he did okay you going out. But Cameron Cade couldnât bring himself to give a fuck about that.
He wanted you all to himself.
âBaby, whenâs the last time we had a date? Or some actual time to spend together?â
You closed your eyes, âCameron, please donât do thisââ
âIâm just asking! It feels like the only times we see each other is after weâre working or when weâre fucking. We havenât spent real time together like you spend with your friendsâ
âThatâs bullshit and you know it. You do this every time I want to go out and thatâs really fucked up. I never do this to you when you go out with your coworkers or your friends from college, do I?â
Cameron rolled his eyes, walking out of the bathroom. You only followed him, officially irritated.
âNo, answer me! Do I trip on you when you want to go out the way you trip on me?â Cameron Cade didnât answer, plopping down on the couch.
âNo? Exactly. And in my opinion, your friends are even more questionable than mine but do you see me making a big deal? No, you donâtâ
You watched your boyfriend ignore your gaze, he was shutting down, you could see it in his body language.
âCan I have this last night and I promise you, itâll be about you and me for however longâ
Cameron didnât respond, instead you made out his watering eyes and soft red face. Cameron Cade rarely cried, even when heâd have moments of grief over his fatherâs death, he never cried.. or tried his best not to.
âCamââ
He waved you off, ânah itâs okay, donât even worry about it. Youâre right, I did agree to you going out so go have fun. Just come back home, pleaseâ
He tried to walk past you but you grabbed his arm, stopped him completely. With a cupped hand on his face, you watched a few tears stream down his pretty face.
âBaby, stop itâ you swiped a tear with your thumb, âwhyâre you crying?â
Cameronâs pink tinted eyes met yours, you felt your heart lurch. âI just miss you, Dani. I miss us. I miss us going on dates, I miss us hanging out, I miss everything. Maybe Iâm being selfish but youâre my best friend. I have the most fun with you and itâs hard sharing youâ
One hand on his face turned into both, your fingers continuing to wipe away his tears. Sympathy coated your insides, you hated that Cameron felt neglected.
âBut I donât want you to think Iâm controlling you so please, go have fun. Just text me and come home in one piece. I love youâ
Maybe you were being selfish with how much time you werenât home. Maybe that scale was tipped too far away from your relationship. Maybe Cameron was right.
Standing on your tippy toes, you leaned in and kissed Cameron softly on the lips. His arms stretched around your waist, bringing you close to him. You pulled back to peer into his greenish hazels.
âOkayâ you whispered, âIâll stay. Itâs all about me and you tonight, âyeah?â
Cameron only kissed you again in response to your words. Like he was saying thank you.
Cameron watched you unravel yourself from him and go back to grab your phone, he heard you sigh quietly. You were already breaking the news to your best friend of your change of plans.
You brushed past him and into your shared bedroom, undressing yourself from your occasion outfit.
In Cameron Cadeâs eyes, this was a win. Even if it meant guilt tripping.. even if it meant victimizing a reality of your relationship that wasnât really a reality⌠even if it meant forcing out some tears.
He won, thatâs all that matters.
.
The more you thought about that night you missed Mikaylaâs birthday, the more angrier you grew.
You spent the night with Cameron. You talked, laughed, ate, and finished the night with Cameron burying you deep in your bed.
But that following morning after he kissed you goodbye for work, you stayed in your head.
You actually hadnât hung out with your friends as much as Cameron tried to accuse you of. You were just as introverted as him and preferred staying in to hang out with him.
Not to mention, you never threw tantrums whenever Cameron wanted to leave the house for some time. No matter how full of shit his own friends were.
The more you thought, the more you realized that Cameron Cade was trying to isolate you. His possessiveness was hidden by an insane amount of toxicity and insecurity.
The night where you left Jacy Kaneâs party, where Cameron got into it with your former classmate. He alluded to you cheating on him when really, you were raving about Cameron to the guy.
Your loyalty exceeded more than even Cameron Cade knew. You bent a lot of your boundaries to please him and what was he doing? Accusing you of cheating and icing you out from your friends.
You became standoffish, a bit more short and annoyed with your boyfriend. Not to mention youâd come down with a sickness that had you bed ridden and missing work.
Youâd thankfully started feeling better but you had your own plan. You just had to play up being sick a little longer to make it real.
âCan I get you anything, baby?â Cameron leaned down at the edge of the bed to meet your sulking face. His hand pushed your hair back, care in his eyes.
âIâm fine, Cam, thank youâ you mumbled just briefly meeting those same eyes. He nodded and kissed your forehead.
âOkay, well text me if you need anything and Iâll drop by. Any updates on your tests results? Is it the flu or something?â
You shook your head. âNothing yet but I can smell and taste so I donât think itâs Covid. I just donât feel good right now, Camâ
He nodded and kissed your head again. âI know, bae. Call me if you need anything at allâ
You sent him the fakest smile you could muster up, he still was in hot water with you. You waited a ten minutes after the front door closed and locked before hauling yourself up.
Your patience was thin and you had enough. You texted Mikayla and told her you were coming over, you just had to pack some bags.
And packed you did. Clothes, body products, hair products, you had to make sure you had enough to suffice.
You sat your bags on the couch and sat there waiting. Before you could depart to Kaylaâs, you wanted to give Cameron Cade a piece of your mind.
.
It felt like forever when Cameron came in the door. You sat on the couch next to your bags, dressed in basic lounge clothes, and ready to go.
âHey babyâ Cameron mumbled, his sights taking in the scene in front of him. âWhatâs this?â
You sighed. âIâm going to Kaylaâs for a little bit and youâre not stopping me. I need space, Cameron. Lately it feels like youâve been trying to control my life and dictate what I get to do with and without you, and I canât do that anymoreâ
Cameron Cade stood silently, letting you rant. But his calm demeanor threw you off a little bit, only because you didnât know what to expect.
âIâm not saying we need to break up but I need you in the doghouse until Iâm ready to let you out. Iâve been nothing but loyal and supportive of your needs and you canât meet mine without an issue. Iâm doneâ
You watched Cameron nod, still not saying anything.
âYou donât have anything to say?â You prompted now standing in the middle of the living room.
Cameron opened his mouth and closed it. He instead walked over to one of the drawers in the kitchen, revealing a set of papers.
âWould you believe me if I said I saw this coming?â He flipped through the papers until he came upon a specific page.
âAnd not because of my actions in the way you think but because.. I planned all of this..â
Cameron stalked towards you, the paper in his hand. âAll I had to do was cause a âlil tension.. argue a bit more.. maybe shed a few tears and become way more insufferable enough for you to want to break up with me. I drove you to this feeling on purposeâ
Your heart only sunk deeper into your chest as Cameron spoke more. None of what he was saying was making any sense.
âAnd why? Because as much as you think youâre leaving me.. youâre not leaving me, Danielle. Not with thisâ
You watched your boyfriend hold the paper out for you to take, and when you did, you wanted to faint.
It was more than the test results to your swabs of Covid or flu strains but.. a positive HCG test result. You wereâ
âI know how you feel about abortion, you wouldnât kill my babyâ the sickest smirk pulled on Cameronâs face. He caught sight of your teary eyes, still staring at the positive test result.
âI already loved the feeling of cumming inside of you but when I saw that you started putting your hoe ass friends before me, I knew I had to speed up our future a bit faster. A future without them in itâ
The tears finally came down your cheeks. âYou trapped me?â
His hands came down on your shoulders, his lips near your ear. âI secured you.. to me and me only. We made this baby out of nothing but love and you do know how much I love you, Danielleâ
Finally looking from the paper, you met the eyes of the man you thought you knew. His greenish hazels went a shade dark, his presence no longer comforted you but instead scared you.
Because he was right.. you were insanely pro choice but you know if you had the choice, you wouldnât resort to abortion. Youâd grow and raise your child no matter the circumstances.
To know Cameron got you pregnant on purpose simply to keep you bound to him was enough to make you want to die.
You felt his hand reach under your sweater and caress the smallest pudge in your stomach, it sent shivers down your spine.
âI know you still love me somewhere.. deep down. I know somewhere within you is actually excited about this, youâve always talked about being a mother. Youâre just a little mad at daddy and thatâs okay, youâll get over itâ
He cupped your face in his huge hands and took your lips into his. The kiss was a sensual rhythm like Cameron Cade was putting a spell on you. You felt more tears burn your eyes and slide down your cheeks.
â..Youâll get over it and eventually youâll understand my thinking. But for now? Right now? Youâre gonna take your purse off..â
Cameron moved his hands up from your stomach and cupped your breasts, his fingers brushing over your sensitive nipples, drawing out a hiss from you.
â.. take your hair down..â he kissed your lips, â..get out of those clothes until the only thing Iâm seeing is that necklace.. and lay right on that bed..â another kiss.
â..I think I wanna show you why I know youâre not leavinâ me..â
âIt ainât none of your friends business what we will be doing tonightâ
warnings: 18+ content (MNI), toxic! Cameron Cade x girlfriend! reader (Danielle Young), cussing/swearing, use of the n word, Cameron doesnât like your friends and they donât like him, obsession, stalking, threats, jealousyâ Cameron gets into it with a guy at a party, accusations of cheating, smut, phone sex, choking, pnv penetration, oral sex (m&f receiving), dirty talk/ shit talking, spitting, use of the b word (bitch) during sex, creampie.
a.n: hereâs another lil stand alone off of the whim because I love music!!! 𤣠this fic will probably get a part 2, more than likely! Just letting yâall know. Heed those warnings and enjoyy đ
face claim is the ever so beautiful: miss alexis radcliff đ
on the jukebox: ânone of ur friends businessâ by Ginuwine đ
âAre you free tomorrow night? Little miss Jacy is having a party at her place. She invited Denise and I, and said any of our friends are good to tag alongâ
Sitting at your desk in your bedroom, you typed more work out onto your Mac Book.
Currently, you were entering in some analytics and more data input. Today was a work from home day which meant you had more liberty to chit chat with Mikaylaâ your best friend since high school.
Your iPhone stood propped up next to your Mac Book so Kayla could see you and you could see her.
âTomorrowâs Friday.. yeah Iâll be there. No deadlines or need to complete anything urgent.. but I mean, weâll see what my morning looks like for work. But more than likely, Iâll be able to come byâ
You entered in another analytic into your spreadsheet, almost done with your work.
âShe must not be charging a cover fee to let people invite other peopleâ You mumbled. Jacy Kane was known for throwing ragers and charging her guestsâ you couldnât blame her.
âI checked her flyer for any hidden ass messages about a cover and I donât see anything. You should get to just walk inâ
You nodded. âOkay.. yeah Iâm there. Send me her flyer for the other details, I can get that figured out after workâ
Mikayla celebrated on the other side of the screen, making you giggle.
âDonât get too excited, now. You know Iâm a packaged deal right?â
Mikaylaâs smile dropped, a groan slipping out as she tossed her head back. You only shook your head and smiled. Kayla didnât have to ask for more information.
âWhyââ
âAht aht, youâre not new to this so donât even start complaining. You know thatâs just how Cameron rolls and with the parties we go to, Iâm going to bring my six foot five inch body guard every timeâ
âBut every time you bring him, I never leave with something fine to take home. Your nigga be scaring the other niggas and that shit is not cool, Daniâ
Your smile stayed plastered on your face and your head shook, despite the growing irritation from your friend on the phone.
Any speak of Cameron Cade with your small group of girlfriends was always a trigger. A trigger you could acknowledge but you never really saw why.
âHe canât help that heâs a tall ass dude.. taller than everybody in the room. Heâs just not with the bullshit because again.. Jacyâs parties attract the wrong kinds of niggasâ
Mikayla groaned. âBut those be the ones I try to court, Danielleâ
Before you could retort, the front door of your apartment suddenly rang with the sound of keys jingling in the lock. Your insides began to flutter, you knew what that meant and who that was.
Soon, Cameron Cade was entering your shared apartment. He kicked off his shoes and calmly walked into your bedroom, a soft smile on his lips.
âSpeaking ofâ your smile a bit bashful but beaming, âhi babyâ.
Still sitting, you met Cameron halfway as he bent down to meet you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him into the frame for Mikayla to see.
âMikaylaâs on the phoneâ you muttered to your boyfriend, who gave Mikayla a simple wave. No words, just a wave.
Mikayla only waved back, no words either.
Cameron Cade really wanted to roll his eyes. Even more, he wanted to hang up the phone entirely.
Cameron Cade didnât like your friends but Mikayla might be the one he disliked the most.
Now smirking, Cameron turned to face you and pressed his lips to yours fully. Your mouths moved perfectly in sync, enough to put a spell on you.
You pulled back before things could intensify. âHow was your day?â
Cameron pressed a kiss to the side of your head. âMy day was cool. Iâll tell you later though.. Iâll let you get back to your callâ
âActually, I gotta go anyway, Dani. My apartment is dirty and Iâm not sleeping like this so I need to clean. Keep me posted about tomorrow nightâ
You nodded, âI should be good to go, Kay but Iâll let you know. Iâll talk to you tomorrowâ
Mikayla Wallace blew you a kiss and bid you a goodnight before ending the FaceTime call. You stood from your desk, closed your laptop, and met your boyfriend in the living room.
âIâm all yours, my loveâ you perched yourself on his lap, arm circling his neck and caressing his face. âHow was your day? How was coaching?â
Cameron Cade finally felt like he was able to relax. Able to unclench his jaw and drop his shoulders, thatâs just what you did to him. You felt the ease finally dawn on him, his arms circling your waist.
âMy day was good but itâs always better getting to come home to youâ. That earned him a sweet kiss to his neck. âNot to eavesdrop on you and her but whatâs happening tomorrow night?â
You ignored the way Cameron emphasized âherâ. You wished you understood why both parties hated each other so much.
âJacy Kane is throwing a party and Mikayla invited meâ
Cameron eyed you. âAnd youâre going?â
You nodded, meeting his gaze. âIâll be able to come home and get ready, I have to be at the office tomorrowâ
His hands caressed the skin of your waist just past the waistband of both your sweats and panties. Cameron nodded but you could sense his hesitation.
âOkay.. and she knows protocol, right? She should since sheâs always the one bitchinâ and complaininâ about itâ
You nodded. âSheâs familiar, baby, I promise. She knows everywhere she sees me, youâre not far behindâ
That earned you a soft pat to your clothed ass. âGood girl. I know youâre probably tired of me saying it but itâs true. I trust you, I donât trust these niggas and I donât trust these hoes. I can never expect for âmuhfuckas to be on their best behavior if Iâm not around. You know thatââ
You cupped his face and pecked his lips. âI know, I know, I know. Trust me, I get it. I really wouldnât want it any other wayââ
Cameron Cade gripped your ass tight and met your eyes through your prescription glasses.
âAnd youâre not having it any other way, yâknow that. If I canât come with, youâre not going, thatâs itâ
You swallowed but nodded nonetheless. It wasnât like Cam controlled you, his possessiveness always had him acting larger than you.
He never dictated what you wore, how you styled your hair, if you were to wear makeup on some days. He let you be free.. except when it came to your social life with your friends.
He was fine with your solo dates and if your friends did lowkey things together. Heâd just call and text you nonstop despite having your location⌠and forcing you to put his purchased AirTag in your car..
Your friends werenât the kind of girls to get you in trouble. All of you had shit to lose and being in those situations wouldnât end well for the whole group. They were sweet, nice, and the most coolest set of girlfriends youâd ever had.
And yet, Cameron Cade couldnât bring himself to feel the same way.
.
âAre you sure that you even wanna go out tonight?â Cameron sat on your bed facing you.
You stood completely dressed and ready, now dousing yourself in perfume. Cameronâs favoriteâ Donna Karenâs Cashmere Mist.
âI canât convince you with weed, good dick, and whatever food you want on DoorDash?â
You only giggled and approached him, standing in between his legs with your hands on his shoulders. Like magnets, Cameronâs hands found your hips.
âCan you promise me that afterwards?â Finally, your boyfriend cracked just a little smile. You leaned in and softly pecked his lips. âGive me an hour and thirty to get a feel for the party and we can dip out. Can we shake on that?â
You werenât a party girl at all but you loved a pop out every once in a while. You werenât even the type to stay until the owners were kicking people out, you always left a party or a club early.
You held out your hand and watched your boyfriend playfully sigh before slipping his huge hand into yours and shaking. He soon gripped your hand and pulled you back into him, his lips now hungry and kissing you breathless.
You pulled back and found Cameron Cadeâs ear. âJust give me that time and when we get home, you can have me all over this house.. âbe real loud just like you like it..â
When Cameron hissed and cautiously smacked your ass, all you could do was grin.
âYeah letâs go before I take you down and we skip this fuckinâ partyâ
.
With Cameronâs hand in yours and keeping you close, you approached the jumping house party. People were outside with red solo cups in their handsâ some were talking, some were smoking.
You knew you were in the right spot.
Walking in with Cameron trailing behind you, your eyes immediately sought out your friends in the midst of the many bodies. A soft fog filled the space, strobe lights everywhere.
âOh, theyâre right over there! Can you see them, bae?â You asked your boyfriend who towered over everybody damn near.
He bent down in your ear, âI see âem, just keep walking and Iâll get you there. Stay close to me, aâight?â
You nodded and gripped his hand a bit tighter. The more you walked, the more people filtered in and out, Jacyâs house parties were always jumping.
Hip Hop and R&B music flowed from her speakers and throughout the house. You bobbed your head as you walked.
After what felt like hours, you finally found your friends. Mikayla, Jade, Kiara, Denise, and Jackie stood in their own corner. They all smiled and waved when they saw you.
Cameron understood when you dropped his hand to run over to them. He stood at a decent distance and watched. They all hugged you, complimented your outfit and hair.
It was like Cameron wasnât even there and honestly? The man preferred it that way. Every last one of them knew what it was with him being there, almost all of them werenât fond of Cameron either so they didnât speak.
Youâd caught the vibe a while ago and just stopped introducing him. They knew him and he knew them, that was all you needed.
â.. okay, sure, let me ask.. baby?â Your voice put Cameron back in reality, his brows raised and awaiting your response. âDo you want anything to eat or drink? Jacyâs got food and shitâ
Your boyfriend shook his head, his eyes soft and full of love the more they were set on you. It was everything about you that he couldnât quit, Cameron Cade was in love. Even in moments like this, you were so sweet.
âNah, Iâm good, bae, thank you though. You gettinâ food?â He asked and when you nodded, he held his hand out. You only smiled and blushed, happily slipping your hand into his.
âIâll be right back, yâall!â You called out to your friends.
You and Cameron made it to the kitchenâ Jacy had pizza and small little snacks on the table. Her counter filled with both alcoholic and nonalcoholic beverages.
âIâm probably not gonna drink tonight, Iâm not in the mood. Iâll just cradle some Sprite or Pepsi in my cupâ You said out loud, navigating the empty kitchen area.
Cameron Cade only nodded, staying silent. He loved a party as much as the next person but he was fine with leaving that life aside when he found you.
He just wanted you and you only. No party could give him that feeling that you did. But whenever he went nonverbal, you knew he was shutting down.
âYou sure you donât want any food, bae?â You stood in front of your boyfriend with two pizza slices and a red solo cup full of cherry Pepsi. âWe can share mine if you want?â
Cameron Cade smiled and shook his head. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips, trying to reassure you that he was okay.
âI promise Iâm good. Yâknow Iâm waiting until we get home to eat on other things..â
You blushed and turned away from him, a smile on your face. âYou are disgusting. Come on and letâs have a little fun, yeah? I can tell youâre getting a little uptight. Cmon and dance with meâ
.
And dancing you did.
After eating your food, you bounced back from dancing with your friends to dancing with Cameron who stood like your personal security guard.
With your back to his chest, your hands threaded together, you swayed to the beat of âIâm Sprungâ by T-Pain.
Despite the feeling of you being so close and watching you have fun, Cameron Cade was growing more annoyed by the second. Annoyed at the fact that more people kept pouring into the house, annoyed that some people could say âexcuse meâ, and more annoyed that you werenât trying to call it a night yet.
And if he wasnât irritated before, he was irritated watching you pull from him and mix into the crowd. It seemed like he looked away for a second and you were gone.
You didnât say what you were going to the kitchen for more food but simply untangled yourself from him and left.
And in replace of you was Mikayla Wallace. She looked at him and he fought the urge to roll his eyes. He smacked his lips, eyes still looking over the sea of people to find you.
âWhen are you ever gonna lighten up, nigga? You know Dani is good with us when she wants to go out, you donât have to come with her every timeâ
Mikayla blanched, âAnd I donât trust you. Her social life isnât healthy because of you. Danielle is grown and already has a Dad. All Iâm asking is for you to let her breathe because clearly you need to do that for herâ
Cameron shrugged, âIâll breathe when she drops yâall. Thatâs all I gotta sayâ
âBoy, fuck youâ Mikayla said and turned on her heels, walking away. If that didnât irritate Cameron Cade, it was the fact that you still hadnât returned.
He already didnât want to be here and here you were bullshitting. Moving through the crowd, Cameron made a beeline for the kitchen and the sight had his heart dropping.
You stood against the counter with another pizza in your hand and talking to someone he didnât recognize. Not even a stranger but another guy.
You were smiling and laughing.. and so was the dude. When your eyes met, you lit up. âAnd speaking of him, there he is!â
You slithered over to his side and tried to hug him but Cameron shook his head, stepping back from you.
âNah, yo, whatâre you doing?â Cameron scolded, âwhyâd you just dip on me like that without telling me where you were goinâ?â
You looked taken aback, a soft frown in your eyebrows. âCameron, whatââ
âYou know better, Danielle. Iâon know these people in here and itâs too many of them to keep up. At least let me know what youâre tryna do, girlâ
You felt a bud of guilty creep in your chest and immediately, you tried to make it right. Putting your food down, you tried to take your boyfriendâs hand. But he wasnât having it.
âBaby, donât be like that, please. Iâm sorryââ
âYâknow I didnât even wanna come hereâ you know I didnât even want you here. All I ask is for you let me know what youâre tryna do, I couldâve lost you!â
And again, if Cameron wasnât pissed off initially, it couldâve been the sound of the guy still standing there that had the nerve to interject himself in the conversation.
âCâmon bruh, she already apologizedâ
Cameron Cade blanched, looking at the dude who stood about 5 inches from him. âAnd who the fuck are you? This is between me and my lady. You shouldâve walked away as soon as I walked inâ
The dude turned square to your boyfriend. âBut youâre talking to her crazy and thatâs not even necessary, I canât just stand here and listen to that, especially because itâs not a big dealâ
You again reached for Cameronâs hand. âYeah, bae, heâs just a former classmate from college, thatâs it. We were just chopping it up, I was about to come back, I just wanted more food, thatâs itâ
Cameron Cade looked at you. Sincerity danced in your eyes and he almost crumbled. But he was still to angry.
âYeah bruh, thatâs all it was. You ainât have to come pressinâ her like thatââ
Cameron huffed out a sarcastic laugh and pinched the bridge of his nose. âI can do whatever the fuck I want with my woman because sheâs mine. Real shit, I donât give a fuck where you know her from, donât come tryna give me advice about what we do. Just shut the fuck up, thatâs what you can doâ
When the guy took a step towards Cameron threateningly, you immediately slid in between the two with your arms out.
âStop, weâre not doing that, not at this houseâ you turned towards Cameron, âwhat is wrong with you? Why are you acting like this? Are you ready to go home now like you been wanting? Because I am, youâre pissing me offâ
You forcefully took Cameronâs hand and began walking, pulling him to walk with you.
âYeah, Danielle, gonâ ahead and get him outta hereââ
Before you could react, Cameron Cade was fast. His fist was faster. It was swift with the way it collided across the guyâs face, sitting him right on his ass.
âAy, I told you to shut the fuck up, didnât I?!â Cameron yelled. It suddenly got the attention of surrounding people at the party, including your friends. âDidnât I? And look what happened. Pick âyo ass upââ
âCameron, letâs go! Now!â You yelled, tugging on his arm. Finally, your boyfriend relented and followed you out.
Once outside, you walked to the car. âAre you fucking serious, Cameron? What is wrong with you?!â
âWhatâs wrong with me? Me?! Iâm in that fuckinâ house worried about you and I find you talkinâ to another nigga? And youâre defending that nigga?!â
You had enough but there was a time and a place for everything. âGive me the fucking keys so we can go home, since you wanted that so badly. I canât even have fun without you causing some bullshitâ
Cameron clenched his jaw, anger still steaming off of him. He simply tossed you the keys like you asked.
The drive back home was quiet and charged. You tried to calm yourself down but the more you thought about the situation, the more it pissed you off.
.
You stormed into your apartment and already began taking off your shoes. Cameron right behind you.
âYou donât get to have an attitude with me, Danielleâ Cameron began, âyou left me without saying shit and got the nerve to be stickinâ up for some nigga iâon even knowâ
Cameron followed you to your bedroom as you began stripping out of your outfit and into something more comfortable.
âThatâs not even the point. I can admit I was wrong for just leaving you like that and I apologized to you but itâs the way you acted then and even before thisâ
âAnd what is that supposed to mean?â
Finally dressed, you stood before your boyfriend looking at him like he grew three heads. âWhy is it always an issue with you when I want to have fun with my friends? You can never chill out or have fun with usââ
âBecause I donât like them!â Cameronâs voice raised, âI donât like them, I donât trust them, and I donât trust them around you!â
âHow come?! They donât do anything to you or to me! Have you forgotten that Iâve known almost all of them since my first year of college? Kayla since high school? I can determine if theyâre good fits for me, Cameron, not youâ
You pushed past him and into the kitchen, Cameron following.
âStill though. I feel like they always got something to say about our relationship and giving their two cents when itâs not fucking needed. Especially Mikayla. Always got her nose turned up whenever Iâm around and I donât like that shit. I feel like sheâs actively trying to turn you against me and tryna find a reason to break us upâ
You gave Cameron that same look from earlier. âCameron, are you serious?â
âDead fucking seriousâ
You pressed your fingers to your temple, briefly closing your eyes. This couldnât be a real conversation you were having.
âAnd you think Iâd let her do that? Come between you and me? Like Iâm letting her guide my life?â
Cameron shrugged. âSheâs still your friend soââ
âCameron Cade, donât play with me. Now youâre just saying shit because youâre mad. You got some weed or do you need me to order some? You hungry? Iâll cook right now. Because you need to chill outâ
Cameron Cade only stood and watched you stare at him, awaiting his decision.
He wasnât making any sense. This weird paranoia he had was becoming too much, he clearly wasnât thinking straight.
âNah.. because now I feel like youâre not even trying to understand or hear me. Clearly your friends mean more to you than your boyfriendâ
You only rolled your eyes.
âIâll leaveâ he shrugged. âIâll leave, we can break up, and Iâll give you the space Mikayla wants you to have so badâ
You crossed your arms and watched the tall man shrug again, his hands in his pockets. He clearly wanted you to beg.. and you werenât that kind of woman.
âOkayâ you simply said. âYou know thatâs not true and thatâs not what I want but if you believe that, okayâ
Cameron looked slightly taken aback. âThatâs all you gotta say?â
You nodded and turned towards the fridge, you reached in and grabbed a water bottle. âIâm not playing with you. Youâre still angry and being irrational and Iâm not dealing with that. Be mad by yourself, you know how to make it back hereâ
You tried to walk past him to go back to your bedroom but Cameron Cade was faster.
Snatching the water bottle out of your hands and throwing it, he scooped you up and planted you on the kitchen island.
His lips were on yours heatedly, his hands everywhere on your body. Of course you melted, of course you didnât fight him.
Your legs locked around his waist, arms around his neck, and your kisses matching his energy. His tongue swiped at your bottom lip, you happily welcomed his tongue.
You moaned as Cameron pulled back, his lips now finding your neck. You moaned again, manicured hands caressing the back of his buzzed head.
âMhm, you âgon make it up to me?â You smiled, biting your lip. Your back arched when he found your spot, your body buzzing in pure pleasure.
Before you knew it, Cameron was pulling away, his hand replacing his lips and gripping your neck. He stared down at you, watching your smile only grow wider.
âYou better shut that smart ass mouth up âfore I do somethinâ crazyâ
One of your hands closed over his hand on your throat. You had that look in your eye that made his pants tight.
âDo it.. I might just like it..â
He stared some more at you before breaking out into a smile just as sinister as yours. Pulling you by the throat, his lips found yours again.
.
It mustâve been the anger from both of you that had time compressing into nothing. From kissing in the kitchen to aggressively stripping yourselves naked.
From stripping yourselves naked to kissing some more to Cameron watching you drop to your knees and begin blowing him. Your mouth was full, hands working his base what you couldnât fit in your mouth.
His hand on the back of your head keeping you steady on his cock. Up and down, up and down. Your boyfriend grunted and groaned, still shit talking.
âYou hear that? That silence? I love that shit. Iâon gotta hear that smart ass mouth because I got my dick full of itâ
Soon after you were splayed on your back, legs dangling off of Cameronâs shoulders as he buried his face in your pussy.
His skilled mouth and fingers successfully pulled an orgasm from you. Maybe you were so pissed off and worked up, the heated energy sending you deep into that abyss.
When Cameron emerged and hovered over you, you reached out and wiped at his bottom lip.
âYour mouth is good for something when youâre not bitching at meâ
Cameron Cade growled out a laugh and handled your body onto your stomach, he slapped your ass hard, watching the recoil.
With one hand on your head and keeping the side of your face in the bed, he spread your legs open and shoved himself deep within you.
His pace wasnât nice either. It was hard and rough, so much that your bed began moving. Your headboard smacking consistently against the wall.
âYou âgon stop talkinâ to me like you lost your goddamn mind. Fuck got into you, huh?â Cameron growled. His thrusts were unforgiving and you were sickly enjoying it.
Cameron made out a giggle in the midst of your loud moans. He slapped your ass again.
âMhm.. you want me to apologize, daddy? Want me to say sorry cause I hurt your feelings?â
That earned you another slap to your ass, harder this time. You know it would leave a mark.
Cameron Cade fucked you harder and deeper, so much that your brain felt like it was turning into mush. There werenât a lot of moments where you two were going at it like this, typically Cameron Cade liked making love to you.
âYâknow what? I think I do. âGetcho ass upâ
Cameron took you up by your hair and hauled you both to the attached bathroom. Cameron kicked your legs open and pushed himself back inside of you, your hands grabbed at the granite counter.
âI wanna hear you say youâre sorryâ Cameron rasped in your ear as he began pumping, this time his thrusts were agonizingly slow.
You hated how pathetic your whine was. âIn my eyes, seeinâ you with that other nigga felt like you were cheating on me. This my pussy, right?â
Cameron had you bent over, your elbows supporting your body on the granite. He mounted over you and grabbed your jaw harshly.
âYou better listen to me or guess what? Youâre not cumming at all tonight. You better answer me, girlâ he slapped your ass again, âlook at me, is this my pussy?â
You nodded, eyes meeting your boyfriendâs in the mirror. âYes, babyâ
âI can do whatever I want with you and to you because this pussy is mine?â
Your eyes squeezed shut at the feeling of Cameron finally speeding up. Your body jolted in his hold.
âYes, Cam!â
You watched your boyfriend smirk. âYeah? Youâre sorry for disrespecting me tonight? For getting me out of character like that?â
You nodded. âIâm s-sorry, babyâ you said pathetically, eyes blown in lust and staring at your boyfriend who you stupidly loved so much.
âMhm, so fuckinâ pretty, baby.. you love me?â
âYes!â
Cameron eyed you, you could see the wheels turning in his head and before you could think, he was hauling you back up and back into your bed.
âIâm all you need?â
âYes, Cameronâ
Legs over his shoulders, body hovering over you. Cameron grabbed your phone.
âYeah? Iâon think I believe you but itâs okay, imma make an example outta youâ
You watched Cameron unlock your phone and within seconds, you were hearing the call ring loudly. Your eyes went wide once Cameron turned the phone to you.
It was Mikaylaâs contact screen being called.
You tried to reach up and grab the device but Cameron stopped you with a hand to your throat, keeping you pinned on the bed. To your horror, Mikayla actually answered.
âDani?â She called out. Cameron chuckled. âYou there, babe?â
âOh sheâs here.. talk to her, babyâ
In that same moment, Cameron pushed back inside of you, snatching a deep moan from you against your will. He began fucking you.
âSheâs here, Kayla, donât worryâ Cameron grunted, his hips snapping to touch every crevice inside of you. âShe a lil busy right now thoughâ
And despite the growing embarrassment, you couldnât bring yourself to shut up. You were so loud just how Cameron loved it.
ââmma let you know, Kaylaâ Cameron huffed out a groan, his brows creasing in pleasure. Your soaking.. tight walls were clamping around him something serious. âDanielle is good, good here with me, okay? Iâm all she needs and I take real good care of her. Donât I, baby?â
All you could do was cry out, his hand on your throat squeezed harder. You nodded for him.
âThatâs a good girl..â he leaned down and quickly kissed you. âYou hear me, Kayla? You hear her? She wonât be coming like that no moreâ
Cameron hung up and tossed your phone to the other side of your king sized bed, fully giving you his attention.
You felt him close in on you, his chest to your chest, lips brushing against yours. His lower half still powering and pushing you closer and closer to your release.
âI meant that..â he kissed your lips, âI just want you all to myself, baby. Nobody else, nothing else..â
Your legs tightened around his waist out of instinct, you were so close. Cameron could tell. He felt your orgasm was deserved.
âI love you, Danielleâ
âI love you too, Camâ you replied back almost immediately.
Your orgasm was mind blowing and enough to make you see stars. You clung to Cameron desperately and tightly, your throat dry from your cries.
Cameron was right behind you. âFuck, Iâm cumming, babyâ
He pushed himself even deeper before howling out. His thrusts stuttered and slowed, his stream coming out in constant spurts before becoming sporadic.
You were so out of it, you were on the brink of falling into a deep sleep. You felt Cameron peck your lips affectionately, words on his lips.
âSwear one of these days, âm gonna knock you up..â
You made out a laugh at the end of that statement but you couldnât focus on anything else.