Chapter 11 Calling Dinosaurs #2
His brows tweak. “The one where you told me the reason you were at Lexon Club was because of your ex.”
He turns to give me his full attention while the beginning movie credits roll and the serious look in his eyes cause my throat to constrict.
I’d been having flashbacks of my big mouth last night while in the shower earlier, but I was hoping I’d dreamed the part where
I mentioned Randal.
“Come on, Ace,” he urges before pausing the movie. “Just spill it.”
“Why do you care so much?” I ask as I wipe away an imaginary crumb on my lip.
“Because it doesn’t seem like your kind of place. It’s not your thing.”
“You have to quit acting like you know me so well, Calder,” I argue because I’m done letting men think they know what I can
and can’t do with my own damn life.
My throat tightens as Calder stares back at me in that intense way he has about him, and I feel a flashback to the first night
we met.
It was seven or eight years ago, and I was picking up Cozy for a night on the town. She was nannying for Max at the time,
taking care of little twelve-year-old Everly, and I knew full well that I could text her and she’d come out from the guest
house she was living in for the summer and meet me in my car. But I wanted to see this boss of hers who had my best friend
so stressed that she needed a night out. I saw that and a whole lot more.
“What do we have here?” I ask when I walked into Max Fletcher’s house to see a plethora of hot men seated around the table
with cards and poker chips.
“You got any money?” Calder Fletcher waggles his brows at me, and my stomach swirls. All of his attention is focused directly
on me. This guy has a way of making you feel like you’re the only person in the room. It’s really annoying.
“I do, but I usually make the man pay for me.” I reply with a coy smile, feeling all my feminism vacate via my loins. “It’s possibly antifeminist of me, but I figure taking a man’s money is also a way to fuck the patriarchy.”
“What’s a patriarchy?” a little voice asks, and my eyes widen in horror as I spot a little blonde girl with braids at the
end of the table.
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there.”
“It’s okay,” Max replies dropping down into his seat. “Everly knows what words aren’t for her.”
“Is patriarchy a bad word, Daddy?”
“Kind of? But it’s not really a curse word, so you can feel free to use it.”
“You want me to deal you in, Blondie?” Calder asks, pulling my focus back to him like we’re the only two people in the room
as he adds, “I like to fuck the patriarchy too.”
My chest tightens as I swallow the knot in my throat and shake my head, even though all I want to do is sit on his lap and
debate whether sex is a need or a want, and maybe go through some exercises to draw our own conclusion. It’s the beard and
ink combo that’s doing me in... which is a bit surprising because he’s not my typical type. I’m usually drawn to dressier
hipsters who can pick out a good bottle of red at a restaurant. Calder Fletcher looks like he leaves the toilet seat up.
But tonight isn’t about me. It’s about my best friend, and ogling her boss’s younger brother is not a good idea.
“Not tonight,” I reply, feeling my loins weep at the lost potential of an ideal one-night stand. “Cozy and I are meeting some
people in a little bit, and I wouldn’t want to be late.”
The look of disappointment in his eyes is unmistakable, and the confidence that surges through me over that reaction is better
than sex... and makes me think perhaps sex is a need. A need that I should be thinking about with the man I’ve been seeing
for weeks now, not this bearded new guy.
I better stay far away from this Fletcher brother if I know what’s good for me.
“Enlighten me, Ace. Tell me something I don’t know about you.
” Calder stares back at me with a severity that I feel squarely between my legs, stoking the fire that little flashback already caused.
Couple that with my foggy hangover brain, and the way his eyes keep dropping down to my legs, and I feel like I’m going to upchuck again.
“I’m too hungover for this conversation.”
“Just tell me if he was there,” Calder presses further.
“If who was there?”
“Your ex.”
“Randal?”
“Obviously!” The muscle in Calder’s jaw flexes under his beard as he looks away from me.
“Randal was not there.” I laugh at the thought. “If he was, I certainly wouldn’t have been there.”
Calder shakes his head with a confused frown. “You said you were there because of him.”
“I was, but that doesn’t mean I was with him there. We’re divorced. Completely.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Yes, good. He didn’t deserve you, but that still doesn’t explain why you were there.”
“Calder, I’m not getting into this with you.”
“Why not?”
“Because no offense, but it’s really none of your business.” I shift in the bed as the sensation of walls closing in on me
hits me the more we discuss this.
“Fine, forget it then.” He resumes the movie, refusing to make eye contact with me, even though I know he knows I’m looking at him.
I stare at his brooding profile for a moment and feel a pang of guilt. He’s being so nice to me, and here I am with all my
black-cat energy ruining his attempt at being decent. But this is such a personal thing that I haven’t even talked to Cozy
about yet. I can’t confide in Calder of all people.
It’s better this way. Calder doesn’t need to know how crazy I really am. Maybe no one needs to know.
Calder
I am one sick motherfucker , I think to myself as I stand under the scalding-hot shower of our attached palapa bathroom. The grip I have on my hard shaft
has me trembling as I press my forehead against the shower wall, bracing myself.
Dakota Schaefer completely shut me out after I went above and beyond to make her feel better. Something I’ve never done. And
now what am I doing? I’m in here stroking one out like a teenager because I couldn’t take my eyes off of my shirt riding up
her legs after she fell asleep beside me. Or how I could see the hard buds of her nipples through the thin fabric and knew
she was completely bare under there.
A smile teases the corner of my mouth when I recall the moment she started snoring.
She fucking snored.
And I got a boner.
Sick. Motherfucker.
I squeeze the tip of my dick and bite back a moan. Fucking Dakota. Those curves. Her breathy groans as she snuggled closer
to me and her warm skin touched mine. Felt like I was on fire in that bed with her.
Maybe I need to go back to Club Lexon and find a Domme if this is the kind of shit that gets me hard. A rude, off-putting
nag who snores like a trucker... Is there a room at the sex club to exercise that kink? I’m guessing not. Little too niche,
I’d bet.
But it wasn’t just her snoring, it was the way her face softened in her sleep. So peaceful. Like she finally let her guard
down and just let herself breathe.
So fucking sexy.
And I’m so fucking stupid because I let my mind wander as I watched her sleep like a creep getting myself so worked up. I had to ditch the movie and come in here to relieve myself.
I tremble as I thrust harder into my fist, eyes closed, picturing what Dakota’s face would look like if it was her I was thrusting
into. How her full lips would part as I bury myself balls-deep. Her breath would become ragged as I thrust in as deep as she’ll
take me. The picture my mind conjures is so fucking hot, I have to relax my grip before I blow, not wanting this fantasy to
end just yet.
A small laugh escapes me, echoing off the shower walls as I think of how her scowling Karen barrier would vanish forever if
she gave me one fucking night. Just one night to cure her of her bristly attitude. One night to erase whatever that fuck-wit
Randal did to inspire her to visit a sex club by herself.
My fist squeezes my shaft at the rage I feel over Randal entering the fucking chat. I hate that he had her. I hate that she
let him see her naked. I hate that I care that he saw her naked. I fucking hate her. I hate that the more I hate her, the
thicker my cock gets. I hate that the more I admit I want her, the harder I feel myself thrusting into my hand.
I rise up onto my toes as the tingles of climax begin to heat my balls and I can’t stop it now. Pressing my head against the
tiles, my grunts reverberate loudly in my ears, and I don’t even try to quiet myself as I visualize her body in the pool,
at the sex club, in our bed.
A primal rush of heat floods my tip when I think of her waking up, covered in my scent. “Oh God,” I grunt, and like a fucking
animal my climax rushes from me, spurting over the walls of the shower as I shudder and pant and jack every last drop from
my length with a punishing grip.
I groan and shake my head as my aching fingers release my cock and I come down from the most intense orgasm I’ve had in ages.
The hot water scalds my raw shaft, vibrating at the lingering tingles and making my whole body quiver.
And as my sanity re turns, I realize with a heavy pit in my stomach that I really hate myself because I don’t actually hate her.
I want her.
And I hope she heard me just now.
Dakota
You know those delicious naps where you feel like you want to get up, but the sleep keeps pulling you under? You’re stuck
in this delirious state of oblivion getting some of the best rest of your life, and it takes every ounce of willpower to rip
yourself out of it?
That is the best way to get rid of a hangover.
And when I finally rise from my movie-induced slumber, I glance to the other side of the bed to see that Calder is nowhere
to be found. I sit up and rub my eyes, noticing the door to the bathroom is closed with the faint sounds of the shower running.
I check my phone and reply to a couple requesting-proof-of-life texts from Cozy. She wants to make sure Calder hasn’t taken
me hostage up in our little palapa. If I told her that once he quit pouting about me not sharing my innermost thoughts and
feelings with him, we willingly watched two movies together and ordered room service, she’d never believe it.
I’m not sure I believe it myself.
I glance over at all the empty space he left on the bed, my hand reaching over to the space he was lying. We made it through
this afternoon without killing each other. I suppose there’s really no reason we can’t share this bed the last two nights
we’re here. It’s tainted with his musk now anyways. As long as he stays on his side, we’ll be just fine.
An odd noise echoes from behind the bathroom door, and my lips part. Is Calder with someone in there? Surely not. He wouldn’t
bring some random woman into our shared room, right? Even for Calder that would be bad.
A masculine grunt sounds off, and I listen intently, my entire body erupting in goose bumps when I consider what might be going on in there.
Is he... jerking off? Would he have the nerve to do that?
In our shared space? While I’m sleeping just feet away from him?
That seems way too audacious, doesn’t it?
Then again, this is Calder Fletcher we’re talking about, and he probably assumes I’m still asleep.
An image of his inky forearm flexing as he strokes himself hits me out of nowhere, and I duck under the covers, horrified
at my intrusive thoughts. Images of my time at the sex club replay in my mind. Of all the people I saw going at it that night,
nothing aroused me as much as the moment Calder appeared in front of me.
My thighs clench as I squirm in the bed and picture him naked and wet and grunting as he masturbates just ten feet away from
me. I glance down at his shirt covering my body. His scent enveloping me in the sheets and in his clothes has my breasts heaving
through the thin fabric. My nipples pebble at the thought of Calder touching me over his shirt. Claiming me.
My God, I really do belong in hell. And he’d be right there with me if he thinks it’s normal to jerk it in a bathroom you’re
sharing with someone.
Then again, he’s a sex club expert. Jerking off with someone nearby is probably par for the course in that world he’s clearly
experienced in.
The blood in my veins hums with intrigue as I consider that thought.
The water shuts off, and I stop the ridiculous writhing I was doing in bed and sit up, straightening my hair to look cool
and collected... like I wasn’t just thinking about touching myself over thoughts of Calder at a sex club.
When he emerges in a puff of steam wearing nothing but a white towel, his sculpted muscles glistening with moisture, I feel
my lips part. Like the devil sent him from the depths of fiery hell to fuck with me.
“Morning, Ace,” he says, offering me a dazzling smile. “Or should I say good evening.”
I hold my hand up to avoid the sight of his chiseled body and the ink scrawled across his chest. “Is there a reason you didn’t
get dressed in the bathroom?”
“Didn’t feel like it.” He shrugs and walks over to one of his bags before shamelessly dropping his towel and giving me a view
of his ass.
I slap my hands over my eyes. “Calder! What the hell?”
“I saw your tit the other day. Seems only fair you get to see my pocket python.”
“Pocket python?” My face twists in disgust.
“Yeah, do you think it looks like something else?” he asks, swerving back toward me. “What would you name him?”
I peek through my fingers to confirm that he’s now facing me fully with his hands proudly on his hips, his dick swinging in
the ocean breeze.
“I’d like it covered up, please. God, Calder. I was just coming around to the idea of sharing this bed with you tonight, but
this kind of ridiculous behavior has me reconsidering.”
“Aw, come on, Ace. The human body is a wonderful thing. Don’t be ashamed.”
“I’m not ashamed. I just don’t need to have your unit looking me in the eye.”
“He likes to look.”
“Calder!”
He chuckles and thankfully throws a pair of shorts on. “Not to rush you, but the rehearsal dinner is starting in an hour,
so if you’re feeling up for it, you might want to start getting ready.”
Shit, he’s right. I need to get ready. I guess our little palapa siesta is well and truly over, and it’s back to reality.
And the reality is... Calder Fletcher has an anaconda.