The Story of Me (Carnage #2)(125)
We’ve spent the entire weekend hidden away at the Docklands apartment. The Sunday papers did their worst with the story of Cam and his airport blow job. Ben had bought all the papers carrying the story and had brought them up to us yesterday. The woman involved had had her five minutes of fame and had probably made herself a few quid, but I was pretty sure now that people had realised this was old news and was something that had happened before Cam and I were together, people would just lose interest.
She was quite attractive, in a harsh kind of way, pale skin, black hair. Cam had said all he could remember was she looked like Morticia Adams and her red lipstick had been smeared all over her face when he left her on her knees in the toilet. Regardless, I’d had to have a look at her myself. I’m not sure if it’s morbid curiosity or just part of being a female; we tend to like torturing ourselves over this kind of thing. Or was that just me?
The papers had run with the story now as I was in the news because of Sean’s charity event. They had no idea Cam was actually just leaving Sydney as this story broke and the implications of the timing.
I had spoken to my family over the weekend and assured them I was okay and told my brothers that they needed to stay out of it. The whole thing took place before Cam and I were together; therefore, it didn’t involve them. I knew they’d all have something to say about it, regardless.
I make my way downstairs and make Cam and I another coffee using our travel mugs. We need to get going to Jimmie’s house. Today is the day of the ‘piss on the stick’ party, as Lennon had so eloquently put it. The kids are being dropped at school and playgroup, and then we are all meeting at Jim and Lennon’s house so we can all hear the news together. Ash and Jimmie injected themselves with drugs so their periods and most fertile times were synchronised and they could have the embryos implanted at the same time, and today we will find out if either of them are pregnant.
Sick, apprehensive, nervous, anxious, none of these words actually come anywhere near to describing how I am feeling right now.
I lean against the kitchen island and sip on my coffee, waiting for Cam to come downstairs. His phone had rung as I was leaving the bedroom and as he makes his way down the stairs I am assuming from his tone that it’s Tamara and not work related.
She has driven me f*cking insane the entire weekend. Her calls and texts were relentless. I think she really and truly believed this blow job story would split us up, and she was obviously feeling devastated it hadn’t.
Cam had gone to visit Harry, Saturday morning and had spent a couple of hours with him. Tamara had spent that time texting me, describing in quite explicit and graphic detail the various sexual positions Cam was f*cking her in. I called Cam and read out the messages as they were coming through. He was, at that point, walking Harry in his pushchair around the grounds of the facility while Tamara had stayed in her room, complaining of a headache. She’d continued with her texts, telling me about the great love her and Cam shared and how he would soon be leaving me. She had no idea about the IVF and the surrogacy, and I wonder how she’s going to react when she hears the news.
On Sunday, when she wasn’t texting me, she was calling Cam. We had both ended up putting our phones on silent and ignoring her. Cam still had the vibrate function working on his phone just in case there were any work or Harry related problems, so when his phone began to vibrate while he had his head buried between my legs, his big wide tongue doing delicious things to my clit and two of his fingers curled inside me, expertly pressing against my G Spot, I couldn’t help myself from answering with a breathy, “Ahhh, God, Yessss,” when I saw that it was her calling.
“Cam?” she asked.
“No, ahhhh, yessss, nooo, sorry, nooo,” I replied.
“Who is this? I wish to speak to Cameron.”
“Tiger, oh, God, oh, God, yesss, right there, just like that. Sorry, Cam can’t come to the phone right now. He has his mouth full,” I left a pause of a few seconds, “full of my cunt. Cam’s mouth is full of the three C’s, Tamara, cunt, clit and cum, and just like him, they’re all mine. Now f*ck off and leave us alone.” I ended the call and looked down at Cam looking up at me.
“What?” I asked. He wiped his wet whiskers with the back of his hand, then licked it. “Fuck,” I panted the word more than said it, and my hips involuntarily bucked forward. “You nearly made me come without even touching me.”
He winked, shrugged and said, “You wouldn’t be the first, Kitten.”
I smile, thinking about all of this as he walks down the stairs now, still holding the phone to his ear.
I pass him a coffee and he kisses me full on the mouth, flicking his tongue inside and grinding his hips into mine as he does.
“Fuck, Tiger, you hard again?” I ask, loud enough for the bitch to hear me.
“Always around you, Kitten, always.” We’d f*cked in bed this morning. Then I’d sucked him dry in the shower, just an hour ago. The man’s a machine.
He steps away and takes a sip of his coffee. Then says into his phone, “Tamara, you’re getting on my last f*cking nerve now. You’re seriously worrying about Georgia swearing around the baby when you’re the one who smoked heroin while he was inside you. Now please, f*ck off and leave me alone. I’ll ring the doctor now and ask him to come and check Harry’s temperature.” He ends the call and puts his phone in his pocket, then just stands and stares at me for a few seconds.