Monster (31 page)

“Is that the last of the boxes?”

“Just this one left.” Eden replied handing Jenna the box marked ‘Liam’s Toys’. She grabbed the duffel bag from the back seat of her car and hurried after the blond haired woman.

“I’m so glad we’re done. I hate moving.”

“Me too, but just think, now we get to decorate!” she said cheerfully, toeing the door closed behind her, and depositing the duffel bag on the lone futon in the living room.

Jenna groaned, “I’m leaving all that up to you. Do you want something to drink?”

“Just a bottle of water.” Walking around the partially furnished apartment, ideas flitted around in Eden’s head. She wasn’t exactly interior decorating inclined, but she’d staged a few homes in the past to know what would work, and besides that, she and Jenna had similar taste when it came to décor. “Are you sure it’s okay to have Liam’s toys here?” she asked, accepting the bottle of water from Jenna.

Jenna rolled her eyes. “For the umpteenth time, its fine! It’s not like I have a roommate who’s going to mind anyways,” she teased, giving Eden a sidelong stare.

Eden had the good grace to look sheepish. “I’m really sorry, Jen.”

Jenna laughed. “I’m just kidding. I hold no grudge whatsoever. I’m just glad you finally made up your mind. So you’re really staying?”

Eden nodded. “We owe it to ourselves to see where it goes.”

“So did you get the divorce?”

“Yeah…I’m a single woman dating my husband,” she quipped, “He’s been really good.” That was an understatement and color tinted her cheeks at the thought.

“I can see the love all over your face, skank,” Jenna tsked. “You are so far gone, you’re oozing it.”

Eden had to agree. She’d fallen quite hard for Dominic, and there really was no cure for what she had. She had yet to say those three little words to him, but he hadn’t pushed and that made Eden love him all the more for it. “Yeah,” she said simply, refusing to say anymore. She would save the words for tonight, for him. He would hear them first.

“What time are you dropping off the butterball?”

“Probably around eight. Now, let’s get out of here. We need to grab you some stuff before tonight.”

* * *

Tonight they were dining in. The rest of the mansion was quiet, empty except for the two occupants seated on the marbled kitchen floor. The only source of light in the otherwise dark room came from the open refrigerator to their left. They faced each other with legs intertwined and there was nothing in between a giggling Eden and Dominic but skin and more laughter.

“You cheated.” Eden accused with a pout, which Dominic could not seem to refuse as he leaned in to taste the sweet strawberry on her breath.

“I don’t cheat,” he refuted after a beat, swiping the tip of his tongue erotically across her bottom lip. “I just don’t play fair.” Taking a plump red strawberry from the bowl of fruits at their side, he brought it to her mouth. “Say ah,” he ordered raggedly, and she obliged without hesitation. “Bite.” Another command she carried out eagerly, her supple lips wrapping around the ripe red berry instantly had Dominic thinking of her sweet little pussy and his cock pulsed between them. With a groan he went in for another kiss, plunging his tongue deep within her honeyed mouth to chase down the strawberry and take in her addictive sweetness.

“Dom,” she called breathlessly, laying gentle hands against his bristly cheeks, she pressed a kiss where her thumb skated against his mouth. “I’m so in love with you…” she whispered, so quietly like it was a secret from her soul.

Everything stopped for a second and Dominic’s thudding heart lurched in his chest, while he stared at her bemusedly questioning whether he’d heard correctly.

“I love you,” she said again with love soaked amber eyes and a smile that was the sun itself gracing her lips. “I was so afraid to say it before. I was so sure that I wanted to be free from you, but I’ve realized that freedom is loving you. You are exactly where I want to be, Dominic.”

Overcome. That was the closest thing that could best describe the intense feeling that swept through Dominic in that instant. Her words were the breath of life to his shriveled heart, manna to his starving soul and Dominic intemperately consumed them, gorged himself until he was replete. Finally loved. Finally wanted. A monster no longer. “I am going to spend the rest of my life being worthy of this love you’ve given me, Eden,” he vowed sealing the promise with an all-consuming kiss.

-THE END-

Until It Hurts

“We’re all mad here.”

— Lewis Carroll

Carver

I love going down on a woman. Eating pussy is an art form that I’ve mastered since Minnie Rodgers in middle school. It’s not a means to an end but a delicious buildup to an explosive evening. Now don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy doing it for whatever girl I end up taking home, but my intentions aren’t completely selfless. Deep sea diving, I’ve come to learn, always ensures the best sex of the evening. My current buffet was a blue eyed, buxom blond with a huge rack and legs for days, which she currently had wrapped around my head.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod....Carver…I’m gonna…I’m gonna…”

Yeah, she’s going to come, but I want it on my dick so I maneuver out of the neck lock, grab her by the waist to turn her around, and I’m eight inches deep, feeling her tight wet pussy like the sweetest vise. “Harder…Carver…hit it harder…” Who am I to deny her this request? I wrap her hair around my hand to gain better leverage and repeatedly ram into her. She’s a screamer, its irritating as all fuck, but I’m not about to pull out because she can’t keep it down. Rectifying the situation quickly enough, I shove her head down on to the mattress to stifle her screams. Her release is like lava on my dick and with two more pumps I’m filling the condom.

“God, that was un-fucking-believable,” she sighs “I can never get over how amazing it is with you.” Her fingers glide over my sweat slicked skin. “You picked me again tonight,” she says with something akin to smugness tinging her voice, and I suddenly want her to leave. I achieved what I wanted for the night, and she knew I wasn’t much for pillow talk.

“You’re a good time, Michelle.” It was the gentlemanly thing, to know the name of the girl you were currently fucking. Sometimes getting the name and the face was a challenge, but I’ve overcome a lot of challenges in my life.

The dance of her fingers suddenly stops and she gives me this look from dark brown eyes that instantly sets me on guard, and the need for her to leave becomes a monkey on my back. “I think I’m more than that, Carver,” she says quietly, but then her eyes shift down, and she starts the dance again, long fingers down the length of my left arm, tracing the tattoos there. “You should take me to get one of these.”

“Alright, I think it’s time to say goodnight.” I’m off the bed like a rocket. Shit’s getting too fucking weird for me. This is what I get for double dipping. Fucking the same girl more than once is never a good idea. I made up that rule a long time ago but because she’s been one of the best lays in a long time, I’ve broken it a few times already. Well, this is the last time.
On to the next one.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something?” She’s all doe-brown eyes and pouting pink mouth, and if I didn’t see the weird glint in her eyes a second ago, I would’ve been inclined for another round, but at this point I’m not even sure I can get my dick up.

“I’ll call you.”
Not fucking likely
. “Close the door on your way out,” I say as I head for the shower. Cold but it gets the point across.

* * *

Michelle

I’m there for a long while after he leaves. He just turned on the shower so I know I have time. I fall back against the mattress and wrap the sheets around me. His pillow emanates his scent and my nostrils drink until I can taste him on my tongue.
Carver Reston. My love. My King. My reason for being. The very personification of masculine beauty. Michelangelo couldn’t have done any better. And the tattoos. God, the tattoos just add to the masterpiece that is him. The very moment I laid eyes on him a year ago in his bar, I knew he belonged to me. Like the clouds belonged to the sky and the soil to the earth, he was for me. The very first time I spent in his arms was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced in my life; it wasn’t just sex, we came together, we were as close as any two human beings could be, and I’ve made it a point since then to make him mine. It hasn’t been easy.
He
hasn’t made it easy. It hurts me so much when he flirts and takes home those skanks that hang around his bar, but I’ve learned to be patient. They’re nothing compared to what he and I have. And we’re going to have more. He just needs a little time…a little convincing.

It almost kills me to get out of his bed, but I know he’ll be upset if he finds me here when he gets out of the shower. I slip into my jeans, doing a little hop to get them over my hips and put on my bra. By the time the shower shuts off I have my shirt buttoned and my bag in hand. My latest mementos are his black on black Movado watch and the condom he’d flicked into the waste basket. I want to see him wet and naked from the shower, but I won’t risk it so I slip out the front entrance before he enters his bedroom, my imagination will be a poor substitute.

-
Sneak peek at Author Kimber S. Dawn follow up Novel
-

Holding Her In Madness:

The Leo Phillips Story

By Kimber S. Dawn

Prologue

Or some pussy-ass way of writing a damn letter to the ones who have read AWGM

What’s up?  How the fuck are you doin’?  I know. Probably worlds better than I am right now.  Look, all right? I’ll fucking tell you like I told her. It ain’t gonna fix a fuckin’ thing, but I’ll say it…

I fucked up, okay?  I fucked up and I know… I know I did.  I let my little firecracker down so many Goddamn times. 

Fuck!

I know I don’t fucking deserve her, but I’ll be Goddamned if I leave her again, and I’ll be even more fucking damned if I let what I deserve or don’t deserve in life keep me away from her.  Period.

I told her that everything I touch, I fuck it up.  Why the hell do you think I ran from her little ass all those years ago?  I was trying to shut her out before she got under my skin.  But I couldn't.  She wouldn't let me keep treating her like an irritating gnat. 

Shit, I even told April I thought she was a narc.  Damn, that was lifetimes ago...  I'd give anything to go back and keep shit from falling apart.  I would tell her dad to fuck off, just grab her up, and fucking run. 

I never should have let her out of my car that night when we were kids.  I could have protected her from fucking everything. 
From all of it...
Fuck
!

I’d ask where I went wrong, begging for an answer that would soothe this fucking terrible ache, this guilt that I’ve carried for decades. 
Even though I don’t deserve a break from my pain.

 
              As for you, I know you think you know Lil, now that you’ve read her story and walked in her shoes through this fucked-up life of hers.  But until you hold a woman like Lil, until you stare into her drunken eyes, heavy from ecstasy while your balls deep inside of heaven, inside this woman that is so fucking unlike anyone else on this Goddamn earth…  Until you hold her shuddering body as her tears soak your shirt while she cries out for something even she doesn’t understand, just so long as it takes away her pain… Until you’ve been where I’ve been with Lil, you don’t truly know her.

Not like I fucking do.

                  That fateful May night, I felt the dread in my bones. It really started that morning, another of my countless mistakes, I ignored the hair-raising sense of dread that hit me that morning. I was supposed to be on my way to Atlanta for some stupid fucking merger meeting between my company’s marketing department and another new upcoming marketing company.

 
                I was hauling fucking ass from one terminal to another, trying like hell to catch my connecting flight from Houston to Atlanta, when it hit me like a motherfucking brick across the face.  I stopped right where the fuck I was, assholes crashing into me from behind, cussing at me.

 
                I took my ass to the nearest fucking ticket counter and asked for the next flight to get me back home.  Shit, I’d been gone for almost three months straight.  I hadn’t seen Lil in over six months—that she knew of.  I’d still kept an eye on her.  I just couldn’t fucking explain what the hell my eyes were seeing.  She was so far gone, I couldn’t see a single thing in my wife that resembled the woman I had fallen in love with over twenty years ago. The woman I’d waited all my life for was truly and irrevocably fucking gone.

Do you know what it’s like as a fucking man to have to look at your wife and watch her all over these cheesy fuckers, drunk and high out of her goddamn mind, so fucking lost she’s beyond ever being found?

Oh, I knew what the fuck she was doing.  I knew about the drugs and
ALL
the men.  But I was such a fucking coward! I just walked away like I had all the other times.  I told myself that at least she was happy; at least they made her smile. For more than a year after my boy died, I could only get her to look at me or speak to me when we were in the throes of passion.

I was a pussy, that’s what I was.  I just wanted her to be happy, and she was only ever happy when I wasn’t home.  Every time she looked me, all she really saw was what could have been had our son lived.  With me or my presence came memories of what should have been.  And if there is one thing Lil and I have, it is a fucking world full of what-should-have-
beens. And there isn’t a fucking thing in this world worse than what should have been.

When the plane finally touched down, I drove like a motherfucking bat outta hell to get home.  Only, she wasn’t at home… Shit! She was never home.  I couldn’t find her at any of her normal hangouts. I hit every bar and lounge up and down Common and Market Streets.

I called every Goddamn five-star hotel within a hundred-mile radius and still couldn’t find her.

That’s when I got scared. I was sure that I was too late.  I hadn’t been there when she’d needed me.  I knew she’d finally done it.  She’d taken her life and killed the love of mine… She’d killed my firecracker.

As far as I was concerned, I’d fucked up and all but handed her whatever drug or weapon she’d needed to get the job done.  When she finally, really needed me, I’d been off being a pussy because I didn’t know how to take care of my own wife. I didn’t know how to bring her from the darkness and depth of misery she fed off. 

Instead of manning the fuck up and grabbing Lil’s demons by their throats, killing them one by one, snuffing out every single one of those bitches fucking with her head, I’d stood aside, waiting for her to come back to me, waiting for her to need me enough to come back.

Fucking thank
FUCK
my cell rang! I knew it was her. Even though she didn’t say a word, I knew it was my firecracker. I knew I wasn’t too late. I knew it was her calling me for help, calling because she finally needed me.

I will thank God every night of my life for that call… ‘Cause I had a motherfucking number.

In only twenty minutes, that abundant victory immediately gutted me, leaving in its wake nothing but bleak desolation.

Shit, y’all were there.  You know what the fuck I saw when I walked in the bathroom of her hotel suite.

Her beautiful head was lulled back. Fuck, I’ll
never
forget that shit.  It’s imprinted in my brain, etched across my skull. It’s seared into the back of my eyelids.

She had a blood clot smeared from behind her ear, stringing like a fuckin’ spider web to her shoulder.  Her skin was as pale as a full moon, not a fucking trace of my firecracker, not a trace of that beautiful tan skin of hers that I loved. Lying there in a pool of bloody water was the woman I fuckin’ swore I’d never leave.  How many times had I fuckin’ promised her?

Too many fuckin’ times. And I swear, I swear, I was there.

It just wasn’t enough.  I wasn’t enough. I’d never be enough.

After the docs got her physically well enough to be moved to the psychiatric unit, she was admitted to The Center.  I knew then that my fate, my happiness, my fucking LIFE depended on being strong enough for her. Everything in our Goddamned life depended on me stepping up and doing any and every damn thing I could to save my firecracker, be there for her, and make fucking sure she knew I was there and that I wasn’t going anywhere.

And I did.

I made fucking sure I was enough. I killed all those fuckin’ bitches in her head. I went through hell for my fuckin’ firecracker and brought her back to life.

And now, even if I have to stay here in Hell for the rest of my life in order to keep her out, that’s what the fuck I’ll do.  As a man, sometimes you have to do what the fuck you have to do.

When you’ve been where I’ve been, seen the shit I’ve seen, and been shredded as many times as I have, there is no other option.  Even if it means your life is hell. Even if it means from this point on, you are the one who carries all the weight and burden.

You fuckin’ do it because you love a woman, the only woman in this whole damn world. You do it because she’s your soul mate.  And without her,
YOU
would rather be fucking dead.