CALLIE (The Naughty Ones Book 1) Read online

“Nope. Nothing there. Nada. Zip. We have sex, really good sex, considering I would have thought my junk would turn him off. But that’s it. We don’t talk unless we’re in public or his parents are in the vicinity. The most we’ve discussed in the last few days is whether I want a chicken or beef wrap. And he only did it because I threatened to chew his leg off in the car if he didn’t feed me. Apparently, you don’t eat in an Aston Martin.”

  Cue major female eye roll.

  “Do you…think you can love him?”

  “Honestly? I don’t know. He’s nothing at all like the man I thought I’d end up with, and he is very frustrating. Most of all, I don’t think I can even begin to fall for a guy who doesn’t trust me. He still thinks—”

  “What?”

  I shake my head and cringe at the almost slip. No one knows that Cameron is not my baby’s father, and he threatened to muzzle me if I even so much as thought to mention it.

  “I think he still thinks of me as an…opportunist or something. Hell, I don’t know, just he doesn’t talk to me about anything besides what, er, what he wants in…”

  “Bed?”

  She bursts into a fit of giggles and starts rolling around as if I’ve just made the biggest funny ever.

  “For someone as pregnant as you are, you are really prudish, Ducky.”

  Oh, now she’s calling me that, too? The freaking horror. I don’t have the heart to tell Marge the name makes me feel like an unattractive mallard, but this will not be borne.

  “Stop calling me that. And shut up. You have no idea what an animal he is in the sack.”

  Oh, and what a fine, wild beast he is.

  “But Ducky is a term of endearment. Anyway…I think I know all about ravenous beasts, thank you very much. Kent is no stodge you know. Why, the ways in which I never knew I could bend,” She says, waggling her eyebrows. “But seriously now.”

  Uh oh, she’s getting that hungry expression.

  “What’s up with you two? He watches your every move. My God, today is the first day of the ‘fun and games’…and if I didn’t know better, I’d be searching for a leash and collar. The man is positively obsessed with you.”

  If by obsessed, you mean he likes having me on a short leash and within spitting distance so he can make sure I don’t do a runner. Sure.

  “He’s just scared I pull a Julia on him and run my ass home before he can Beyoncé me,” I say, discarding my cake when my stomach churns.

  “Aaah, but that rock on your finger tells the tale. He definitely put a ring on it. Not to mention….” She pointedly looks at my stomach.

  God, I feel guilty lying to her. Things would be so much easier if everybody knew the truth. So what if they all looked at me as if I’m the Whore of Babylon? So what if they all looked at him as if he’s the savior of the free world.

  I should be able to tell the truth and hold my head up high and not worry about…

  And then it hits me. Cameron isn’t getting very much out of this deal is he? I mean sex he can get anywhere, especially him being as hot as he is. And if he wanted a baby, he could probably put out an ad and have the droves storm his home, salivating for the chance to carry his holy seed.

  The only person getting a break here is me. I get to legitimize my kid, and I will never have to worry about anything else. Not money, or doctors’ appointments, or late night feedings, or anything.

  I’m the only one benefitting here besides Marge and Vic.

  Cameron isn’t getting anything out of it.

  And then that brings me to the sex. Part, well, most of the problem I’m having revolves around guilt for sleeping with my dead Robert’s brother and liking it a heck of a lot more than I did with him.

  And then I’m also confused as to why Cameron would even want me.

  I’m no oil painting for one, and pregnant or not, I’m on the heavier side and nothing at all like the supermodels and celery eaters that most men go for nowadays.

  Doubts bombard me as we watch the rest of the movie. Molly keeping up a salacious commentary the entire time.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Shaw

  “She’s so huge; I can’t believe he’d still want her. I mean, really, she looks like she’s two people and then I won’t even speak of that horrid hair. I always looked my best even when I was pregnant.”

  I hear the two skeletal corpses giggling and roll my eyes. Mostly because I know that they know I’m close enough to hear and that’s just so immature. Partly—and this part shames me half to death—because I’m having trouble with my eyes. Must be something in the suckers because they’re all watery.

  I know what you’re thinking, but no, I’m not crying at their hateful words. Well, I’m mostly not crying at least. I can’t help it; it hurts that they’re so mean and I have absolutely no defense against these kinds of things.

  Short of going ape shit crazy and yelling at them, there’s nothing to do but pretend I don’t hear or don’t care. Problem is, I care. A lot. No, I don’t want to be Lindsay Lohan and get in with the mean girls who treat me like poop under a shoe; I’m not that pathetic. And Molly is more than enough friend for me.

  I just wish people wouldn’t assume things about me and do their best to put me down.

  “I know, darling. You looked so good.” Fanny preens, licking that rim, as if she’s going at a Popsicle and not trying to crawl up Letitia’s ass.

  “Because I kept my diet the same. No carbs or sugars.”

  Poor kid who grew in her tomb must have come out half-starved and stunted because I’ve seen this woman eat a grape and declare herself positively full.

  “And did you see what that dreadful Molly is wearing? Purple is most definitely not her color.”

  “No, but green is yours, my dearest Fanny.”

  That lazy drawl makes me smile, and I have to suppress a chuckle when Dougal Stone saunters up, his icy blue eyes going hard even as his mouth curves seductively.

  “Why don’t you come along, dear? I’ll keep you too busy to spit poison. Lettie, Griff was looking for you.”

  She goes a lighter shade of corpse and leaps to her feet, fleeing God only knows where to the sound of Dougal laughing hysterically.

  “Cameron set the pair of them on the women.” I hear from my left, turning to see a grinning Molly standing beside me, her eyes alight with mirth.

  “Why?”

  “Because Letitia positively despises Griffon Stone, and she makes no bones about it. If she’s too busy hiding from that rogue, she won’t have time to torture you or sink her claws into Cam. Kent got Dougal on Fanny because, as he said, ‘The little idiot needs a distraction.’ Apparently, Dougal likes doing the ‘bitter pills.’ Don’t ask because I don’t know what that means. I’m just grateful I don’t have to deal with them.”

  “Me, too.” I sigh, hooking my arm in hers and following her into the back hall to the kitchen. “No offense but Millie could have just as soon left her off the list. Fanny too.”

  “I agree, but the old dear has a love of shall we say, ‘sticking it to them’…so she refused to even entertain my objections.”

  We’re in the kitchen by this time, and she lights up when we see Kent coming her way holding a covered dish and a wicked grin.

  “We have some business to attend to Carrot snap.”

  “Is that your idea of pillow talk?” I ask drolly, grinning when Kent blinks and his grin widens.

  “Pillow. Sofa. Shower. Any clean surface really.”

  That has Molly blushing so fiercely the guy laughs and ducks, throwing her over his shoulder with a flourish.

  “Have a lovely afternoon, Ducky! We’ll be down…well, eventually.”

  I hear her giggling all the way to the stairs before a masculine chuckle and the sound of running steps start fading.

  Have I said how disgustingly jealous I am right now? Kent adores Molly, like obsessively, and would do just about anything to make her happy. My guy’s idea of happiness is getting me fired and holding me emotio
nally hostage with his parents.

  “You’re looking unusually pensive, baby.”

  I jump and turn to Cameron, almost sighing when I see him leaning against the doorjamb, his arms folded over a black t-shirt that shows off his muscles perfectly.

  He looks smug and self-pleased, and I find myself smiling back before I know it.

  “Naw, I’m fine. I had a snack date, but Kent caught us and swept old Mol away.”

  Lucky bitch.

  “And now you’re at sixes and sevens,” he drawls, making me narrow my eyes suspiciously.

  “Who says ‘sixes and sevens’ anymore? I think the last time I heard that was when my grandma was alive, and she died at the age of eighty-seven. Whatcha doing?”

  I have to ask because he’s still smiling; only now he’s prowling towards me with a purpose that looks evil and way too smug to suit me.

  “Stealing my very own woman…though I doubt it would be a good idea to throw you over my shoulder.”

  I squeak and struggle when he lifts me into his arms—I’m a girl, I always think I’m too heavy—but he just swats my butt and starts walking, not even breaking a sweat when he takes the stairs.

  You know me, so by now I’m into the thought of being carried off and ravished in the middle of the day. So totally into it that I feel my nipples bead and the slick slide of arousal gush out to coat my sex.

  “Oh, Cameron dear could you—oh there you are Ducky! I’ve been looking everywhere for you. We have a match on the south lawn. Griffin finally found that horrid woman, and they’re waiting for us to start.”

  “Er, I’m a little—”

  “Nonsense. I was going to be your partner, but now I see you have Cameron. You two run along and go trounce that wretch won’t you. I have a wager going with Millie, and I don’t really want to lose the emeralds Vic gave me for our tenth anniversary. Put on a good show. There’s a good lad.”

  She sweeps away, leaving us looking at each other. I don’t know who’s more horrified at the thought, Cameron or me, but he finally gives in with a sigh and lets me down, his eyes focused downward ironically.

  “Make sure to rub him every once in a while, won’t you, baby. Can’t have that woman thinking he’s sniffing after her skinny arse.”

  ***

  “Oh God.”

  I’m useless at organized activities, and this one is no better. I mean, what’s so hard about taking a mallet and hitting a ball through a few rings?

  Not much if you discount my raging need to use said mallet against a certain blonde’s piñata.

  “Aim Ducky,” Cameron hisses, throwing his head back to eye the sky when I scowl and grip the mallet tighter.

  “I am.”

  “Well, it doesn’t bloody look like it! Mum’s very fond of those bloody emeralds. Not to mention that if you lose to that woman, she will never let you live it down.”

  “Look buddy, I’m not exactly in fighting form here! You try aiming with this in your way,” I hiss back, waving at my stomach.

  Really, it’s like trying to take aim with a very enthusiastic monkey strapped to my front, and then I haven’t even factored in the fact that I am shit at sports in the first place.

  And Cameron is the world’s worst loser. Like ever.

  But he’s right. I’m playing for Marge’s jewels and the very real chance to rub Skeletor’s face in it.

  “Just…”—he runs an impatient hand through his hair—“…shit, watch what she does and do it better. You’ve beat her in all other areas already, so you might as well take this one too, baby,” he says, giving me a slow-eyed once over. “Hands down the sexiest mama I’ve ever seen.”

  Goddamned flatterer.

  I do as he says and watch her like a hawk, taking in the way she cants her hips and the easy fluidity of her swing. I’m an imitator, have been since I was little enough to realize that Gloria was worse than useless as an example so I’ve learned to do by watching.

  On my next go, I don’t just get the ball near the target but sail it through. Thank God for that physics class and my professor’s obsession with using sports to apply theory to real life.

  Gradient and drag are important, or so he’d always told me, and now I guess I’m going to have to apologize for calling him a nut.

  It helps that the other team starts losing, something I suspect is a direct result of Griff sliding the occasional hand over her ass or between her legs in a teasing fashion that has her prancing around like a cat on a hot tin roof.

  We win, but only just, and I see Cameron and Griff grinning at each other while Miss Ants-In-Her-Pants throws her mallet my way and stomps off, screeching like a three year old.

  “I can’t believe you’re doing her. Or that you did her either.”

  Griff chuckles and flicks a hand over his mouth, giving me a pointed look.

  “Already? That’s just nasty.”

  “What can I say, Ducky? The angry ones love me. I have a way of removing that bitter taste from their mouths.”

  Cameron chokes, and I roll my eyes, blushing and gagging at the same time.

  “If you think I don’t understand that very unsubtle reference to your dick and her mouth, you’re mistaken. Just make sure she doesn’t have the sudden need to chew or you’re screwed. Now stop grinning, idiot. Don’t think I forgot that you spent years doing that chick.” I growl at Cameron. “Your tastes have obviously improved for the better but still…yuck.”

  I walk away with a huff and a secret smile when they both color and mutter under their breaths. I’ve won Marge her jewels, and God alone knows what else from Millie, officially trounced trout-pout Lettie, and deflated Cameron’s hard on.

  All in one morning’s work.

  Oh, and let’s not forget that I’m awesome.

  Know what? Maybe marrying Cameron won’t be so bad after all. I am “the sexiest mama ever.” There are fates a lot worse than having your guy obsessed with you to the point of still finding you sexy at this stage of pregnancy.

  “You’re looking quite satisfied with yourself, Ducky.”

  I smile at Marge and give Millie a wink and a face that is slightly mocking.

  “I am Marge, after all it’s not every day a whale like me eats a shark for breakfast. Sorry Millie, I guess you’re gonna have to get your own emeralds after all.”

  Does it faze me that Griff probably scored me that win? Nope. A win is a win as far as I’m concerned, and all of a sudden I’m really excited to see what the next four days will hold. If nothing else, I’m really going to enjoy watching Cameron stalk around with the shit-eating grin I intend to put on his face.

  “I need a favor Marge.”

  Marge and Millie smile slowly, and I grin.

  Poor Cameron. Just poor, poor Cameron.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cam

  I almost swallow my tongue when Shaw and Molly stroll into the dining room hours later, their radiant faces a beacon to not only myself and Kent, but also every single or attached man in the room.

  Shaw is dressed in a lovely pink, off-the-shoulder dress that somehow manages to fall around her body in delicate waves while also clinging in all the right places.

  My dick goes hard, harder actually, since I haven’t lost my erection all bloody day as I watched her flit around and mingle with the guests while throwing me coy looks.

  Damn female knows how to get me all sorts of worked up with nothing more than a sultry look from below her lashes. I have plans for tonight, massive plans, pun intended, and I can’t wait to get through another one of Millie’s infernal eight-course dinners to get my hands on my girl.

  Over an hour into dinner, and I’m practically salivating as her scent hits my nostrils and wraps itself around every nerve ending I possess.

  I’m almost ready to just say fuck it all, grab her hand, and drag her upstairs when I feel her little hand settle on my knee and start a kneading caress that makes me jump and then tense when she smiles and continues her conversation with Allen Beet
.

  “Er, um, Ducky…”

  I breathe the words through a choked, constricted throat when she caresses higher, stopping at the very top of my thigh and uses her fingers to start a circular caress on the sensitive skin so close to my dick that I feel the heat of her hand on my shaft.

  The sensation is white hot, blissful torture, and I fight to keep my expression straight and not growl out my frustration when she tease her hand lower before retracing her path with a coy glance that sets my blood pounding.

  “Stop this.”

  I reach a hand below the table to do just that when her wrist flicks upward and her hand lands where I both want it and do not. She cups me in a strong grip, her hand encompassing my balls and the bottom of my shaft, her fingers pressing delicately.

  The pleasure is equal parts bliss and torture when she tickles up to the head and then down again, attacking me with a slow stroke that makes me grind my jaw and clench my fists to keep from groaning.

  Never before have I allowed a woman to have control over my body. It’s a danger I haven’t allowed myself since I realized my sexual appetite is a lot higher and darker than some can handle.

  Not Shaw though. No, the woman is sitting at a dinner table, engaged in meaningless conversation by one of her many male admirers, calmly jacking me off and enjoying every minute of it.

  Her neck and breasts are flushed and heaving as she struggles to control her responses, and I see the exact moment when touching me becomes too much.

  Fool that I am, instead of letting her snatch her hand back, I grab her and press down, bumping myself closer and squeezing her hand harder around my blazing heat.

  Her head turns my way, and she licks her bottom lip with a flick of her tongue that I feel all the way to my dick and beyond.

  “I want you.”

  My voice is a harsh rasp of demand, the grating sound of a man who’s about to slip his leash and let out every fantasy and illicit need that has been safely buried for years.

  Part of me is terrified, and yet, I find my lips curving when her eyes meet mine and I see the same violent need reflected there.

  “Yes.”

  “Make an excuse for us Duck and we can go—”