Caylee's Confessions (Caylee's Confessions Series) (11 page)

“Fine,”
he snickered, put on his shoes, and headed out the door—but not before I heard
his final comment.  “Don’t listen to me then.  Just go get yourself killed,
prove me right, for I won’t be at your rescue next time!”  And he slammed the
door shut.  I threw it back open and screamed down the hall at him.

“I
don’t need to be rescued by an ignorant pig!” 

That
was the last time I saw him.  Hell, he’s probably been looking for me.  But I
wish to not let him find me, for I don’t feel like fighting that battle anytime
soon. 

I
awoke, still on my couch, to my phone going off, letting me know I was getting
a text message.

Coffee?
it read, from Braxton’s
number.  I hadn’t spoken to him since our date, and what a wonderful time to
call after the night I had last night.  After him not calling me for a week, I
just assumed he wasn’t going to again.

Sure
, I texted back, and
there was immediately a ring on my apartment buzzer. 
Holy shit.
  I
quickly ran to the bathroom, brushed my hair, and put makeup under my eyes.  I
answered the door and a smiling, sexy Braxton was holding two cups of coffee. 

“Come
in,” I said, as he awkwardly stood in the doorway.  “That was quick.”

“I
had a feeling you were going to say ‘yes.’”  He smiled.

I
took a seat on the couch and he set the coffees on the coffee table in front of
us, but as soon as he sat down, he immediately shot back up, like he’d sat in
something. 

“What’s
wrong?” I asked as I watched him just stare coldly at the wall. 

“Nothing,”
he said under his breath.  I patted the couch cushion to see what he’d sat in. 
 Duke hadn’t had an accident in a really long time, and I had just been
sleeping there, so I have no idea what could have been there.  It took only a
moment longer to see my bra was there, half in the crack of the couch.  Whoops!
 I usually didn’t keep my laundry lying around the house, but clothing had come
off fast last night and it had just slipped my mind.  Shit, but why was he
freaking out?  There was no way he could know what happened here last night.

“Sorry
about that,” I said jokingly.  “I must have left it out here while I was doing
laundry,” I lied.  Braxton stood silent and still.  He was just staring at
nothing.  His eyes were blank and his fists were balled up, like he was trying
to hold his composure.  “Are you okay?” I asked, wanting to end the tension. 

“I’m
fine,” he said under his breath.  “I’ve had a rough week.  Has yours been
interesting?” he said as his eyes flashed to the couch again.

“You
could say that…”  I paused, trying to read his expression.  “Listen, I’m not
sure what is wrong with you, but I’ve just woken up and don’t yet have the
patience to deal with whatever is going on with you.  I can’t believe that,
just because I left some laundry on the couch, you’re freaking out.”

“Do
you like to put on men’s cologne also, while you do your laundry on the couch?”
he snapped, and I knew I was caught. 

“What
would it matter if I did?” I snapped back at him.  He had no right to be pissed,
because until this morning, I thought I was never going to speak with him
again.

“Why
are you even here?” I asked.

“Well,
I came over to invite you on a date tonight, but when I date, I like to do it
exclusively, and it seems your lifestyle indicates you date differently,” he
snapped.

“Excuse
me?” I barely got out.  He’d thrown me off by the ‘date’ part.

“I
can smell him all over the apartment!  I assumed that you weren’t a slut!”  That
was when I snapped.  The next thing I knew, I was in his face, with my finger
inches from his lips.

“That
is none of your business.  And who are you, coming into my fucking apartment
and accusing me of doing things that I can do if I want to, anyway?  You left
me with no explanation the other night.  We’ve only hung out three times, and
after the last one ended so abruptly, and you didn’t call the whole week, I
assumed you were blowing me off, so why wouldn’t I go out and have fun—if that’s
what I even did?” I screamed.

“I
did not blow you off.  I had an emergency!  I thought you would understand,
because I thought we were dating,” he screamed back.

“You
don’t just assume you’re dating someone! You ask first!” I yelled. 

“So,
because I didn’t say ‘bye,’ you felt the need to sleep around?” he asked.

“Again,
that is none of your business,” I said, not confirming or denying his statement.

“I
just thought, since things were going so well, that we were dating…” he said,
his tone finally calming down. 

“Well,
I wanted to,” I said honestly, even though that usually happened after multiple
dates, not just one.

“Wanted
to?” he asked, making my eyes stare directly into his.  “Do you still want to? 
This is me asking you directly, so we’ll have no more assumptions,” he said, as
his hands grabbed my butt aggressively, and pulled me to his body.  We were
both breathing heavily, and instead of answering him, I threw my lips onto
his.  Before I knew it, my clothes were being ripped off—once again.  I think I
have an addiction of fighting and fucking, but that’s something to debate
later.  We made our way to the shower.  Before he was about to enter me, he
paused.

“So
this is a ‘yes,’ right?” he asked.  I looked at his flawless, beautifully-toned,
muscular body and thick, erected equipment below.  To answer, I grabbed ahold
of his thick, long shaft and pulled him closer to me.  Once I felt it against
my waistline, I got on my tip toes and gave the side of his ear a sweet lick
before whispering ‘yes.’  Our lips then quickly found each other, and as the
water poured over us, our hands started to explore.  The hot water was nothing
compared to the feeling he was sending through my entire body with each touch. 

Without
notice, his lips left mine and he got onto his knees.  Put your foot here,” he
commanded as he pointed to the shelf that usually held soap.  I hated being
told what to do by anyone, but because of the husky tone he’d used, I couldn’t
help but follow his orders.  As I split my legs and put my foot on the shelf,
he started giving me small pecks on each thigh, back and forth, closer and
closer to my center.  The anticipation was building, and I knew I couldn’t take
much more—already on edge and ready to explode.  His tongue finally found my
center, and he let out a deep purr that gave his tongue the element of
vibrating while it stroked my sweet spot.  My fingertips ran threw his hair and
gently squeezed, urging him to not stop.  As the first climax rocked through my
core, I tried to pull away, but he latched his strong hands onto my hips and
pulled me back in.  He wasn’t letting me get out of that one so easily.  My
hips swayed and my pelvis tipped up towards his face as I rode the sweet orgasm
wave, but he never let it knock him off as his tongue continued to explore. 
His hand left my hips, and I soon found out why as he put two fingers deep
inside me as his tongue continued on.  This set me over the edge as a noise I’d
never heard before left my mouth as the second orgasm came.  Why had I always
stopped so soon before during sex, if I’d known this was what came after the
first wave? 

I
let out a deep sigh as he got off his knees and his lips crashed back onto mine,
with such force that I felt my teeth hit my lips, causing a small cut to form. 
I could taste the rustic taste of blood as a small amount entered my mouth, and
I tried to stop the kiss.  Surely he didn’t want my blood in his mouth, but
when I tried to pull away, he came in deeper.  He stopped abruptly, and I assumed
it was because he now was tasting the bitter taste of my blood as well, but
when I looked up at him, he looked at me like I hadn’t seen a thing yet.  The
look sent a tremor down my spine, and had me, again, on the edge of orgasm.  If
you’d told me before that a look could do that, I’d say ‘bullshit,’ but there I
was, about to have one. 

“Turn
around now, Caylee,” he said in deep, almost threating tone, and I once again
obeyed.  “Bend over and grab ahold of those knobs in front of you.”  I placed
one hand on ‘hot’ and the other on ‘cold.’  As soon as I had a firm grip, he
thrusted inside of me, and I screamed out, hoping that my neighbor below me
wasn’t home, or I’d for sure be getting a noise complaint.  He continued to
thrust in and out, at a pace I’d never experienced with someone before.  It
would go from fast to slow, each at the perfect moment.  As he thrusted, his
hand rubbed up and down my back and on the sides of my stomach.  “Not yet…” he
ordered as I was about to come again.  I then felt him bend his knees and
thrust up, hitting a spot that, before this, had been unclaimed.  “Holy fuck!”
I screamed, not having any idea of what was happening as these new sensations
rolled over my entire body.  He then let out a deep moan that let me know we were
riding this wave together.  He pumped into me and I slammed myself into him so
that we were completely molded as one and he could feel my insides clench
around him. 

I let out a short gasp
when he separated us, and felt like I was about to fall over. I put my hand
against the shower wall, hoping it would help keep me up.  He opened the door
and got out, looking frantically for towels.  He found two, put one around his
waist, and brought mine over to me as I still had my hand—and now head—against
the wall, probably looking like an idiot.  He left, to what I thought was to
get his clothes.  I finally had enough strength to step out and take a glance
in the mirror.  My hair looked wild, so I took a minute to brush it, wrapped my
towel around my torso, and then went to my bedroom to put on some clothes.  To
my surprise, he was there, still naked, and definitely ready for more,
indicated by his humungous erection.  Could I handle another round?  Only time
would tell.   I instantly dropped my towel and ran over to him. 

***

“I
really have to go,” Braxton said, taking a deep breath.  “I’d only expected a
coffee date, and I still have some business to attend to.”

“Are
you sure?  You can’t just call it off?  It’s Saturday and most people don’t
work on Saturdays,” I pleaded.

“Trust
me.  If I could, I would lie here with you all day.”  He grinned from ear to
ear.  “Can I take a rain check for, say, tonight—dinner at my place?” he asked.

“I’ll
have to check my schedule, but…”  I was interrupted as he rolled back on top of
me, giving me a kiss that made my body ache.  “Okay,” I said quickly as his
lips left mine.  He put on his clothes, went to my kitchen, and began
scribbling something on a sticky note.  He walked it back over to me and gently
placed it in-between my bare breasts. 

“This
is my address.  Does eight sound doable?” he said seductively.

“Definitely,” I replied.

***

I
handed the cabbie Braxton’s address as I climbed in around 7:30.  I wasn’t
surprised at where the cabbie finally stopped.  He was the president of a
multimillion-dollar company, so of course he would live in the most expensive
apartment downtown.  I tipped the driver a little more than usual, because he
probably thought I was rich, because of where he had taken me to.  As I was
about to enter the building, when I felt a slight vibration in my pocket.  It
was Claire.

“What’s
up?” I asked.

“I
really need you to come by tonight,” she said in a tone that made my stomach
flinch. “There’s been a lot of undead issues going on that we must speak about.”

“I’m
about to go on a date,” I said, because I really was not in the mood to hunt
tonight.

“Really?”
she said, sounding shocked.  “Well then, okay…hm…how about you go on your date,
but cut it short and come by after?” she demanded.  “If it wasn’t a big deal, I
would say to make sure you stayed the night at your…uh…date’s house, because
you surely need to get laid.  But…this cannot wait.  Promise you’ll come by
after?” 

“Fine,”
I said as I silently chuckled.  If she only knew how much I had been laid in
the past twenty-four hours.  “I’ll be by after, I promise, but I’ve got to go.”

“Goodbye,”
she said and I hung up, slightly aggravated.  I tried not to let the thought of
having to end the date early spoil my mood as I entered the lobby.  I entered
the elevator and hit ‘floor 16,’ which was, of course, the top floor, making
his apartment the penthouse.  I was so out of my league.  I got to the top and
he was there, and politely greeted me with a kiss.   His apartment rivaled
Claire’s, but was it about twice the size.  I really wanted to ask if he did it
himself or if he paid a professional.  Unlike Claire’s, it didn’t have a ton of
color, but it had various tones of blacks and greys, and all the counters were
an expensive marble.  He had a small amount of décor on the walls, mostly
paintings and random shelving, but everything looked elegant.  The perfect
bachelor pad.  No family photos anywhere—that was good, since we hadn’t discussed
if he had kids or anything. He led me to his dining room, where a delicious steak
and red-skinned potato meal was awaiting me on his table.  Even the dining room
table was made from a marble, that I couldn’t even start formulating the cost
in my head. 

“Good
thing I was on time,” I joked as sat down and took my first bite.  It was still
hot. 

“I
have good timing.”  He smiled.  “And a microwave if you wouldn’t have been.” 
We finished the meal and I helped him clear the plates to his kitchen.   It was
like the rest of his penthouse—looked like it had cost a million dollars.  The
floor was a black tile, and all the appliances matched.

“That
was really good.  Thank you,” I said as I placed my dish in the stainless steel
sink.

“Anytime,
Caylee,” he said with an honest smile.  Why did I have to leave soon?  I looked
down at my watch.  It was already ten.