The Story of Me (Carnage #2)
Lesley Jones
Prologue - Cam
“No, Tamara, not tonight, not this weekend at all. I’m busy.” Fuck, this woman was getting on my nerves.
“What about lunch on Sunday? We could eat out or I could cook. Then you could have me for dessert. Please, Cami, I didn’t see you last weekend.” Seriously, this bird could not take the hint. I got up from my desk and walked over to the window of my office; it was snowing heavily again as I looked out onto the street below. It was only just after six in the evening, but there was hardly anyone about. The pavements and roads looked white and pretty, hiding the fact that they were in fact slippery and dangerous. I wondered if this would have an impact on the numbers we’d get through the doors of the club tonight. I doubted it. Most people didn’t drive to us anyway, most coming by cab and so Charlied up they think they’re invincible; a bit of snow was not gonna stop them. They loved the white stuff, any way it comes.
“Is that a yes?” Tamara’s voice whined down the phone. If it wasn’t for the fact she gave such good blow jobs and took it up the arse like a retired rent boy, I would’ve kicked her into touch years ago. I have a big dick; what can I say? I’m a big bloke. At six-feet-five inches, I would’ve been laughed at with your average six inches. It would’ve looked lost on my big frame and so the Cock Gods blessed me with about nine, I think. I’d never actually measured it. Well, not since I was thirteen, anyway, or was it twenty? Anyway, the down side of having a big dick was that women gagged when you face-fucked them with any enthusiasm, and they didn’t like the idea of anal and I did, a lot. I could usually talk them round with a few drinks, but Tamara, she was just always up for it, which is why I kept her around.
“So, shall we say one o’clock?”
“What?”
“Lunch, Cameron, Sunday at one. Does that suit?” I blew my hot breath onto the cold window and drew a cock and balls on it, and just to show my maturity, I added spunk spraying from the end.
“No, Tamara. As far as I’m aware, Sunday is still a part of the weekend and like I said, I’m busy all weekend.” I wasn’t; I was going to watch football tomorrow with my brothers and going clay shooting on Sunday. I could’ve made it, but I didn’t want to. If I needed a fuck for the weekend, I would just pull a bird at the club and bang her on a sofa downstairs once we closed, or in my car or hers; never up here in my office, though, never. There’s only one woman I’d ever fucked in this office and that’s the way it would stay, always.
I pressed my forehead against the cold glass as my heart felt like it was being squeezed. My balls tightened and my cock twitched as I thought of her, her long legs wrapped around me as I fucked her hard against my office door, well over a year ago now. I turned my head so I could see my chair; the same chair I had at the wine bar, the ‘twirling’ chair as she had called it. Despite the fact it was old and cracked, I’d kept it and had it moved to my office at the new club, all because it reminded me of her. I swallowed down the all-too-familiar ache I felt inside whenever I thought of her.
My office door flew open and Benny filled my doorway.
“Boss, you need to put the telly on now.” He was sweating, more than usual, and looked panicked. Tamara was still waffling on in my earhole. “Gotta go.” I ended the call and threw the phone on my desk as I picked up the remote to the huge flat-screen telly I’d had put on the wall.
“Ben?” I had no idea what I was looking for, but I assumed it was something bad.