Too Much, Not Enough, page 14
“Fuck me,” he says, and dear God, I scramble on his dick so fast that even a damn bucking bronco couldn’t move quicker than me. I place him at my entrance and slam down, hard, and we both moan out loud. I fuck him hard and fast on the sofa, as sweat covers our bodies and our skin slaps from the force.
He bites and sucks my nipples, and I throw my head back as his thumb meets my clit, applying pressure and moving in circles.
“Christ,” he says before he grabs the nape of my neck and brings my mouth to his. His tongue pushes into my mouth, and I welcome it. And when he grabs my arse with his other hand and rubs his finger over a place that hasn’t been touched before, I explode, squeezing his cock as I scream his name. He doesn’t let up as I fall from a monumental height, his thumb working faster, his teeth biting me a little bit harder, and then he roars his release as I ride him, until I fall into a heap on top of him. Our heavy breathing fills the room, the low lighting casting a warm glow around us. And when he moves us so we are laid out on the sofa, my back to his chest, I close my eyes and realise that I’ve found the paradise I was missing for so long.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Caleb
My God.
This woman.
She took me like it was the last time.
She rode me like she wanted to destroy my cock but in the most pleasurable way.
She fucking owns me, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do to stop it.
She’s snuggled into me, and I can hear that her breathing has evened out—she’s asleep. I don’t know how long we’ve been in this position, because my muscles were like bloody jelly when she’d finished with me. But right now, I need a piss, so I ease myself from behind her and climb over, trying not to disturb her.
I pad my way up the stairs and to the bathroom, relieving myself and replaying her riding my cock in my mind. Literally, at my grand old age, I can actually say that that was the best night ever. Us coming back together again has unleashed something new in both of us. I see it, I feel it, and the same look reflects in her eyes back at me.
We belong. But even more so now than back then. I can’t explain it fully, and I don’t understand what is happening myself, but I’m going to roll with it and hope that everything else we have to deal with just works itself out. It has to. There is no other option this time.
I grab a glass of water from the kitchen and take a few glugs as I look out of the window and onto the back garden. I’m not getting any younger, I know that, and I sure as shit don’t want to give up on the one woman that has given me so much fucking happiness, even if it will come with consequences. I love my son, I fucking do, but I don’t know if he will ever speak to me again once he finds out. I know he’s lost his way, and I know his mother takes a hefty part of the blame for that—even if he doesn’t realise it—but I’ve tried so hard to form a bond with him, care for him, just fucking be there for him. He rejects me every time. And what am I meant to do? Keep trying until I die and give up on the one thing I selfishly want? Am I really destined to be that miserable and unhappy forever? Because I sure as shit was miserable without Cameron. I moved away, for fuck’s sake, only to come back and have her back in my life again within weeks.
And now, she’s asleep in the snug, after dinner and hot sex. For me, the hot sex is an added bonus, but what I love about her is her mind, her spark, her smile which is infectious, and her compassion. I won’t give up on her again—I can’t.
“Hey,” I hear from behind me, and I turn to see Cameron stood in the doorway, one of the blankets from the back of the sofa wrapped around her and her hair framing her face. “You okay?”
“Just grabbing a drink,” I tell her as I lift the glass up and down the rest of it. “Want one?”
“Sure.” She pads across to me and I hand her the glass. “Thanks.” She sips it slowly, and I suddenly see us in the future, her in this kitchen, her in this house, her with me, and me wondering what on earth I did to get so damn lucky.
She places the glass in the sink when she’s had enough, and then she blushes as she says, “I guess I should go and get dressed.”
But as she’s about to walk away, I gently grab her arm and say, “Or not… if you don’t want to, that is.”
“Are you asking me to stay the night, Caleb?” she says playfully whilst batting her eyelashes, and a smile breaks out on my face.
“I guess I am.”
“Well, in that case, let me just go and phone Gran and tell her I won’t be home until tomorrow.”
Pure fucking elation. That’s what it is. And it feels fantastic.
“Don’t be too long,” I say in a low voice as I move towards her, caging her against the worktop with my arms either side of her. “If I’m keeping you all night, then you better expect to be surviving on caffeine tomorrow at work.”
“Oh, I was counting on it,” she says with a wink, before she ducks and dips under my arm, the sound of her chuckling as she disappears from the room echoing around the kitchen.
And just like that, all of my worries are pushed to the side once again… until tomorrow.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Caleb
I knock on the door and wait, much like I did the other day.
And just like before, I hear the loud shuffling from the other side, before the door opens to show me Danny, yet again with a bottle of alcohol. His distaste for me is clear, but he just turns his back and disappears around the corner, and I guess that’s my cue to go in.
My nose scrunches as I shut the door behind me. Stale cigarettes and an aroma of just… mustiness.
I walk around the corner where Danny disappeared, and I see him in the lounge, slouched on a chair, sipping the alcohol he had in his hand, and the TV quietly on in the background.
“Fuck you want now?” he says, but it lacks the usual anger that he fires my way. I move and stand in front of him, blocking the TV, and he rolls his eyes.
“Is this what you’re going to do with your life? Piss it all away just like your mother?” I say, because I have no idea how to get through to him anymore—and really, I never did, not once she got her claws back into him. I never wanted to use my child as bargaining chip, but fuck, the guilt I feel for letting it get like this is indescribable.
“Don’t speak about my mother,” he says quietly, like he’s intending on trying to frighten me, but really, seeing him like this is terrifying the life out of me.
“Fine, I didn’t come here to talk about her, anyway, but it’s like looking at a carbon copy of what she is.”
“Fuck off.”
I roll my eyes because it seems all he wants to do is swear at me and drink his life away.
“Danny, please, listen to me,” I plead as I crouch down in front of him, my desperation to help my boy taking over.
“Yeah, right,” he says with a scoff.
“Why won’t you listen when I tell you that I care?” I ask.
“Because you don’t. All you’re doing is trying to… I don’t fucking know… ease whatever guilt you’re feeling for abandoning me?”
“Christ, Danny, how many times? I did not abandon you. Your mother has done a stellar job of warping your mind.”
“Again, don’t talk about her like that,” he grits out.
“Well what do you expect me to do, huh? You won’t listen, you think she’s some kind of ray of sunlight sent from above, and for some reason, you choose to ignore that she’s a drunk with a gambling problem.”
“Stop it.”
“No, I will not stop it because I will not see you in the gutter with her,” I say loudly, my desperation and frustration at the whole situation taking over.
“It’s nothing to do with Mum,” he shouts. “It’s fucking Cameron.”
Floored. Fucking floored. “What? What are you talking about?”
“She doesn’t want me.”
“So?” I say incredulously. I mean, I get it, she’s amazing, and I’m desperately trying to push the guilt down that I feel rear its head, but still… they can’t have had anything like what I have with her… could they?
“I love her, and she doesn’t want me. For fuck’s sake, she was my first.”
“Look, son, first girlfriends are hard to get over—”
“No, she was my first first…” he says, and I pause for a second. Shit, can this get anymore fucking complex?
“Danny, you can’t seriously be blaming this behaviour on her?” I say, and it’s like I’ve unleashed a monster as he surges forward and pushes me. I land on my arse, unprepared to be shoved, and I feel his fist connect with my cheek. Fuck. I quickly get my bearings and push him off of me, before I restrain him with his hands behind his back.
“You want her, do you? Is that why she’s working with you?” he shouts, and my heart is practically beating out of my fucking chest. He’s smack bang on the money, but now is not the time to have a revelation about it.
“You need to calm down,” I say gently, as he tries to wriggle out of my grip.
“Get off of me,” he shouts.
“Not until you’re calm, and I will stay like this all night if I have to.”
It takes some time, but he finally says, “Okay, I’m good,” and then I let go, keeping my guard up just in case. “I think you should just leave.”
“Danny, please, I’m your father and I want to help you,” I tell him, feeling emotion clawing away inside of me.
“I don’t want or need your help,” he says, the distaste for me returning.
“Come on, son, you have to know that I love you and that I never wanted to be parted from you. I took you to the park, I fed you in the middle of the night when you were a baby, I saw you take your first steps, and I took you to the doctors when you were sick.” I feel the tears starting to clog my throat, but I have to keep going. “I nursed you through colic, I changed your nappies, I bathed you, and you slept in my damn bed when you were teething.
“I can’t lose you, Danny, you’re my son. I don’t know what I did wrong, and I don’t understand why you hate me so much.”
He just stares at me as I threaten to break in front of him, and then he walks forward, until he’s stood right in front of me, his face deadpan as he says, “You lost me years ago, so do us both a favour and just give up already.”
And then he leaves the room, and I feel like my heart is fucking broken. I don’t know when I walk out of his place, and I don’t know when I get back home. I feel numb, all of the happiness I was feeling just yesterday has gone. My son hates me. He wants nothing to do with me.
“Just give up already.”
I’ve totally lost him, and it’s even more clear now that I never really had him in the first place.
I wake to the sound of pounding on the front door, and groggily, I sit up and take a moment to get my bearings. For a few seconds, the pain isn’t there, but then it hits me like a fucking freight train, and I want whoever is at the door to just leave me the hell alone. But as they keep knocking, I guess I’m not going to get my silent wish, and I push up from the sofa, making my way to the door on what feels like fucking Bambi legs.
I fiddle with the damn lock as I try to wake up a little more, having no idea how long I’ve been out for. And when I finally get the damn thing undone, there’s Anthony stood there, looking all kinds of pissed off. I guess he better join the queue. I turn and walk back into the lounge, not saying a word because I have nothing to give at this moment in time.
“Where the hell were you?” he shouts as he follows me, the front door slamming and echoing around the house.
“Not now, Anthony,” I warn. He’s my boss, and my friend, but so help me, I am not in the right frame of mind to be dealing with whatever he came here to cuss me out for.
“Not now? You bet your fucking arse we’re doing this now, Caleb, so I’ll ask you again… where the hell were you whilst the meeting was running with Saltche, you know, the world’s biggest fucking diamond merchant?”
“Oh shit,” I say, my hand running over my face, because I had absolutely forgotten about that after seeing Danny. I’d only nipped to Danny’s on my lunch break, but then I’d fallen apart and erased everything but my plight from my mind.
“What happened?” he says as I finally look at him and see his eyes land on the bottle of bourbon on the side and the glass next to it.
“Danny,” I say with a sigh, and then Anthony walks from the room, only to come back in a few minutes later with two mugs, placing one in my hand as he takes a seat on the other sofa and makes himself comfortable.
“Come on then, what’s he done now?” Anthony asks, almost like he’s slightly bored of hearing about him. I feel my hackles rise from the blasé way he speaks. He might be my boss, but when he’s here, he’s my friend, mostly, and I’ll throw him out before he can say anything too bad about my son.
“Don’t be so fucking flippant,” I bite, which would make most people cower ever so slightly, but not Anthony. He may be a year older than me, but I know he likes to box and take care of himself, just like I do, and I guess us being friends first helps. My head is all over the fucking place. I don’t even know what to think first.
“I’m not being flippant, Caleb, but this isn’t exactly news. Danny’s always giving you shit,” he stresses, and my lips form a tight line. “What did he do?”
And with a sigh, I settle on the simplest answer possible… “He told me I lost him years ago and to just give up already.”
When Anthony doesn’t reply, I look over at him, and for some reason, despite the despair I’m feeling, he doesn’t look shocked. He looks… like he expected this to happen, somehow.
“Can I be honest with you?” he says.
“I have a feeling you’re going to be anyway,” I mutter, bracing myself for whatever he is about to say.
“Caleb, I’ve watched you over the years, seeing how much Danny has turned you away or made you feel guilt for actions that were beyond your control. You had him young, and you’ve done nothing but try to be there for him. Anyone would be able to see that. But surely, there comes a point where you just have to stop trying, because the only person who you’re fucking up here is yourself.
“And I know I don’t have any kids of my own, but I can see how much of a toll all of this has taken on you. I know I will never truly understand the loss you are feeling right now, but maybe it’s time you do stop. Maybe you concentrate on your life and what matters most to you now, rather than trying to battle the toxicity of this whole situation anymore.”
“And just give up on my kid?” I ask, aghast that he is even suggesting it.
“What other choice do you have?” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. “You either keep doing this and keep being rejected at every turn, or you leave him be, let him come back to you in his own time, and then you can go from there.”
“You make it sound so easy,” I mutter sarcastically.
“I’m not saying it’s easy, but fucking hell, you’ve battled this for so long, looking for peace, but really, I think finding peace lies with you, and you alone.”
I let out a puff of air and think about what he’s just said. Is he right? Should I just let Danny go? Can I even really do that?
“Just don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ve beaten yourself up for years, even gave up on your chance of love at one stage,” Anthony reminds me.
“Yeah, except I’m fucking her again, behind his back,” I fire at him.
“Number one, I know she isn’t just a fuck, Caleb. Number two, it’s not technically behind his back, because they aren’t together, and let’s be real here, you were with her first—”
“And that makes it better?” I interrupt.
“Of course it fucking does. It makes all the difference. You haven’t just fucked her because she’s some nice piece of arse who you’re planning on sleeping with and never calling back again,” he says with a scoff. “And number three, you deserve to just be fucking happy, Caleb.”
Just be happy.
I think back over all of the times that I’ve been happy, and only a few come to mind… when Danny was a baby and I was the one looking after him, and then Cameron, years later, the first and only woman who has ever made me feel that possessive, primal need to have her, be with her, make her mine and rip anyone to pieces who dares to touch her—my son included, and that’s just another layer of fucked-up added to the mix.
“I’m going to go and let you think on what I’ve said, but trust me when I say that holding back on what you truly want will only get you so far in life. And that’s usually pretty fucking miserable, eventually.” And with that, he gets up and leaves as I stay rooted to the sofa, slumping back in the seat sometime later, whilst my heart and mind are locked in a battle of their own.
Chapter Thirty
Cameron
When I see Caleb at work the next day, he looks tired, like he hasn’t slept, and I see the sadness in his eyes too. I didn’t hear from him last night, so I assumed he was busy, and I don’t want to get all needy and shit, but the look on his face absolutely has me needing to know what’s wrong.
But we’ve only just started whatever the hell we are.
Would he want me to ask him?
Should I just keep quiet?
I don’t know what to do as I watch him walk along the corridor, and I fail to notice that he’s carrying a coffee in each hand because I’m so fixated on his face, until he’s stood in front of me, handing me one of them.
“Morning,” he says as he tries to muster up a smile.
“Morning, and thank you,” I say as I take the coffee from him.
“Can we talk?” he asks, and my stomach immediately feels like someone has dropped a fucking brick in there.
“Sure.” I turn and lead him into my office, because it’s closer than his, and I quickly get to work pulling the blinds closed. “Everything okay?” I ask, and immediately want to face palm myself, because everything is clearly not fucking okay.
