Bedwrecker(97)

Mean, vicious words meant to hurt, or is this just their way?

The use of the word sweetheart tells me he refuses to call her by name. Megan with a B doesn’t seem to mind, because soon enough the wet noise of mouth on flesh is the only sound besides my heavy breathing that I can hear.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Cam groans.

“I know how you like it,” B tells him, looking up again.

Okay, so at least they’re well acquainted. Again, I’m going with girlfriend.

Cam doesn’t seem to want to look into her eyes, because he once again pushes her head down. “Who wouldn’t?” he tells her, and for the first time, I hear the slur of alcohol in his voice.

Fascinated by the exchange before me, I’m more than aware that I shouldn’t be watching this or listening to this private moment, but I want to know if being an asshole is how he gets off, or if Cam is truly mad at Megan with a B.

A light flickers under the table and I grab for my phone. It’s another text from Maggie, same as before.

Maggie: Are you still out?

More soft, wet noises cover up the vibration. Thank God I turned my phone to vibrate earlier. With the screen covered with my palm, I try not to move or even breathe.

Cam is making a lot more noises now. Groaning. Swearing.

Why are his sounds turning me on?

Feeling a way I know I shouldn’t, I close my eyes, unable to watch anymore, but soon enough another thud against the door has me opening them just in time to see Cam’s back arch.

I know he’s coming by the way his body is reacting—the sounds he’s making, the curve of his spine, the sudden thrusts he makes into B’s mouth. “That’s it, right there. Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.”

Megan with a B swallows all of him to the last drop and from what I can see, she doesn’t seem to have a gagging issue.

Lucky bitch.

Right now, I’m more than a little hot and bothered. I know what I’ll be doing when I get home to relieve the ache I’m feeling.

Megan’s arm rises and she wipes her mouth. I wish I could hand her a napkin. Soon after, she gets to her feet and I can no longer see anything but the back of her red dress.

She’s the devil.

Or maybe he is?

“No,” says the very male, very drunk, voice.

No.

No to what?

Oh, God, I hope she doesn’t want to lay him down on the floor and fuck him, because if that happens, I’m so caught.

“No?” Megan with a B repeats in a questioning tone.

“No!”

“Wait. Let me get this straight—you’ll let me suck your dick, but you won’t let me touch your mouth with my lips?”

Cam’s polished shoes shuffle. He pulls his shirt together. Tucks it. Zips his pants. Then he moves away from the red dress in the high heels and opens the door. “I’m done letting you do anything else, sweetheart.”

Well, that is just rude.

“Camden,” she calls, sounding a little frantic. “Give me a chance. I want to make it up to you. I’ll do anything.”

“There’s nothing I want from you—that’s the problem.”

Cam. Short for Camden.

I rather like it.

Too bad Camden is a prick.

“Then why let me do this?”

There is no answer, just his feet moving out of my sight.

“You’re a fucking asshole!” she cries after him.

Those polished, very male shoes come flying into the room.

Hell hath no fury like a man scorned.

He steps very close to her. I imagine him tipping her chin up to look her in the eyes, although I can’t see up that high. “Just so we’re clear on this—I owe you nothing,” he seethes, and this time when he leaves the room he doesn’t return.

Ouch!

“But I still want you,” she whispers, more to herself.

I think she’s used to getting what she wants, and this Cam is it. I wonder how far she’ll go to get him. Wish I could find out.

Soon after, Megan with a B stumbles, and then slumps onto the bench at the table across from me. I can see her face now.

Oh, God.

Oh, God.

Please don’t look this way.

If I can see her face, does that mean she can see mine?

It’s dark enough in the corner and I hope the glow of the pink lights helps to camouflage me, but if she looks hard enough, she’ll see me.

Sadness consumes her and her crying is as heavy as her breathing. She’s not looking anywhere but into her own lap. I feel a little sorry for her. I don’t know what she did to Camden, but it must have been very bad, or this is one really fucked-up sex game they’re playing.

Too bad for me I will probably never know because as if reborn, she wipes the tears from her eyes, takes a deep breath, and stands tall before she walks out of the room with a very steady stride.