Humpany (The Booty Call Series Book 3) Read online

  “Don’t stop,” I cry. “Faster, please, faster,” I beg him to keep going and he does, grinding his big, thick cock so deep inside me that I can hardly see straight.

  I’m still a bit dazed, lying here in his arms. My skin still tingles, my lips feel deliciously swollen from his kisses, and my body is already aching for more. Maybe all booty calls are this good, this hot. This perfect.

  He rolls me on top of him, so I can straddle him, his cock buried so deep inside me I moan as he thrusts himself up, deeper and deeper. No, I realize. This isn’t all booty calls. This is Andre Beaumont. A man with a cock so big it puts porn stars to shame and ruins my pussy for all other men.

  “Ohhhh,” I cry as he takes hold of my tits, squeezing them as we get off, his hot bursts of cum filling me up. I love it when he touches me, and I want him to finger me all over again, take me harder, deeper, dirtier. Take me again and again until I can’t stand straight.

  We roll in the bed, grinding our bodies as he gets hard again in seconds. His stiff cock raring to go and my soaked pussy throbbing for more. Throbbing for him.

  We fuck three more times. And when I’m on my knees, with him behind me, holding my hips as he fills my pussy the way I deserve, I begin dripping in a way I never have before. My pussy is so wet for him, gushing as he pounds me. I love it, being taken so hard. He grabs hold of my hair, pulling it back as he grinds his big cock so deep inside of me that I come, screaming so loud my only thought is thank god he lives in a warehouse without any neighbors.

  After, we fall into his bed, sheets rumpled and soaked and our bodies covered in the perfect sweat that can only come from a perfect workout.

  “You good?” he asks, tilting my chin up and studying me.

  And there I go again, falling into his eyes. Damn, he has such a crazy effect on me.

  “Yeah,” I manage, needing to get a grip.

  This is only a booty call. Nothing more.

  Andre shifts and gets out of bed and thinking that it’s a sign that he’s ready for me to leave, I wrap the sheets around me, and stand.

  “I’ll just get dressed—”

  He’s on me in three strides, hands tangling in my hair, and he kisses me before saying, “We haven’t finished watching the game.”

  “You want me to stay?”

  “Yeah, I do.” That cocky grin of his has my knees turning to jelly. “I enjoy your humpany.”

  I laugh. “My what?”

  “Your humpany.” His eyes twinkle with humor. “You know, a booty call that turns into great company.”

  I groan exaggeratedly. “That’s so cheesy.”

  He chuckles. “So you’ll stay?”

  “Yeah.” I wink at him and give him a playful smirk. “I enjoy your humpany too.”

  Chapter Three

  Andre

  “Oh my god, is this real?” Camille asks, leaning over the football signed by Tatum Madden.

  “Yeah.” I grin, loving how much she likes sports. “I had it signed before he got traded to the Chargers. He’s a good guy—”

  “Wait.” Her eyes widen. “You know him?”

  I shrug. “I played football with him sophomore year of high school. My mom’s fifth husband lived in Michigan, so we moved there. Didn’t stay long. That marriage only lasted eight months.” I lean back on the couch and pull her back against my chest. “We moved here for husband number six.”

  “That must’ve been hard, moving all the time.”

  “You get used to it.” Our fingers tangle together, and I bring her hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles. It’s probably not very booty call appropriate, but then nothing about this night has gone the way I expected. “The hardest part is seeing your parents struggle. Wishing at some point they’d get their shit together and grow up.”

  “Yeah, I get that. So your mom, she’s married to husband number eight?”

  “No,” I sigh. “That one ended six months ago. No doubt she’s already on the prowl for the next unlucky bastard. Sorry,” I say, an edge of frustration in my voice. “I shouldn’t speak about her like that.”

  “It’s hard when you have to parent your parents. My dad was always my rock. My stability. But after he separated from my mom, he’s been going through some sort of midlife crisis. And I already told you about my mom.” Her palm rests on my stomach and she looks up at me. “What about your dad?”

  “I don’t know much about him. My mom always said he was the love of her life, but he left when I was two, so I don’t have any real memories of him.”

  “What happened?”

  “Just never came home one day.” I breathe out heavily and shrug. “Another after-school special.”

  Her lips twitch. “Well look at us, all well adjusted and everything.”

  I chuckle. “I don’t know about that. But I do know I don’t want that life. Why make a promise to someone when you have no intention of keeping it?”

  “You don’t want to get married?”

  “It’s more that I don’t want to get divorced, you know?”

  She nods. “Yeah. Me too.”

  “But you want a family, the house, the kids, the whole nine yards?” I ask.

  “I think so. I mean, if I met the right person.”

  For a second, time stills. Our eyes lock and we hold a silent conversation - the words too insane to say after one night together. One perfect, insanely hot night where I got off four times in a row.

  One night that ruined me for all other women.

  It’s late and we’ve been up most of the night. “You hungry?” I ask. “We worked up quite an appetite.”

  She laughs. “Sure, but fair warning, I’m a terrible cook.”

  “How terrible?”

  She follows me to the kitchen and I reach inside the fridge for some bacon and a carton of eggs. “I can make a few things. Peyton, my friend, she runs the kitchen at the rink, she taught me to make a grilled cheese sandwich last week.”

  I laugh. “That’s pretty bad.”

  “Hey,” she says, pouring us glasses of orange juice as I scramble us eggs and fry up some bacon. “I never needed to cook.”

  “Why?” I chuckle. “You grow up with a personal chef or something?”

  Her cheeks burn red. “Actually, yeah. It sounds strange, but my dad made a fortune in real estate. So we always had plenty.”

  “I see, so you’re high maintenance underneath the Converse and blue jeans?”

  She twists her lips. “No. Well, maybe.” She laughs, then grabs a plate as I hand it to her, sitting at the stool at the kitchen island, mostly naked and absolutely the sexiest thing to ever sit in this studio.

  “No judgment. I like the idea of you being a princess underneath that tough girl vibe.”

  We eat our food, or more honestly, inhale it. We’re both clearly starved after our sex-a-thon. She shrugs, answering, “I admit to liking being taken well care of.”

  My cock twitches. “Did I take good care of you tonight?”

  She licks her lips. “You already know the answer to that question.”

  I look over at the clock. It’s three am. Everything from the texting to the pizza to the Clippers to the sex was perfect. Camille makes me laugh and relax and just feel good in my own skin.

  “I can’t think of the last time I had such a good night.”

  She smiles, this time it isn’t a heated look filled with an orgasm. It’s tender. Real. Sincere. “Me too, Andre. You are like, the surprise of my life.”

  We stare at one another, and maybe some people would think it was a beat too long.

  But when I look at Camille, it feels way too short.

  Like we’ve just started something. The beginning of the rest of our lives.

  Chapter Four

  Camille

  “I can’t believe he’s doing this to me.” My mom’s voice fills the car through the Bluetooth speakers. She lets out a sob, her words jumbled from grief and booze. “He wants to humiliate me. That’s what this is about. He thinks if
he marries a floozy—”

  “Mom,” I sigh, keeping my focus on the highway in front of me. “I don’t think he’s doing any of this to get back at you. Maybe he just wants to be happy. And I’ve seen your Instagram feed. You’re like adding fuel to the fire with each twenty-one-year-old guy you date. Maybe you should stop this game of cat and mouse and tell him you still love him.”

  “It doesn’t matter because he is married, Camille!” She starts back into another tantrum.

  And I get why she’s upset.

  I’m not super excited about finding out late last night that my father eloped in Atlantic City with the woman he’s only been seeing for two weeks. I haven’t even met her yet. Which is why I’m now driving to my dad’s estate, to meet my new stepmother.

  My mom keeps crying through the speakers, and I almost miss my exit trying to calm her down.

  “I’m almost there, Mom. So I have to go.”

  I end the call and take in a steadying breath. The woman has a way of unnerving me like no one else. But I love her. Love both of my parents. Even if they are acting like they’re irresponsible teenagers, dead set on ruining their lives.

  My father’s Rolls-Royce is parked outside the entrance of the Colonial style mansion where I grew up. The idea of coming back here, to meet his new wife, hurts. I know Mom and Dad have their problems, but I think, for the past two years, I always thought they’d eventually get over them and get back together.

  But now that Dad is married, that pipedream is long gone.

  “Hello, Miss Camille,” Louis, the butler, says when he opens the front door. “Your father is in the drawing room waiting for you.”

  “Thank you, Louis.”

  He gives me a smile, one that tells me he’s as exasperated by this new set of circumstances as I am.

  “Camille.” My father stands when he sees me, smiling and opening his arms for me.

  I hug him, then turn to meet the beautiful woman who stands to greet me. She’s striking, with long blonde hair and clear blue eyes, and doesn’t look a day over fifty.

  “Sweetheart,” my dad says. “I’d like you to meet Kristina, my wife.”

  I take her hand, but she pulls me into her arms and hugs me.

  “It’s wonderful to meet you, Camille.” She places her hands on my shoulders and studies me. “Your father was right, you are truly striking. Such a beautiful young woman. Your father has told me so much about you.”

  “I can’t say the same,” I say without thinking. But it’s the truth. I know nothing about her. Still she’s my father’s wife. “Sorry, that was rude.”

  “Nonsense.” She keeps smiling at me, and there’s no malice in her eyes, nothing that tells me she’s a money grabbing whore as my mom suggested. She seems sweet, generous. “Everything happened so quick. But when you know, you know, right?”

  My thoughts immediately go to Andre. And in a way I get it. The first time I saw him, I knew I wanted him. And after the other night, I know my heart is already invested - even if his isn’t.

  Louis comes into the room with drinks, and I give him a grateful smile when he hands me a glass of champagne.

  “I’m so glad you could make it,” Kristina continues. “Family is so important to me. And I can’t wait for you to meet my son. He’s around your age...” Her eyes light up when she glances over my shoulder. “There he is now.”

  I take a deep sip of my champagne before turning to meet my new stepbrother. Another complication to this already messed up situation.

  I have no clue how true those words are until my gaze lands on the man Kristina is hugging.

  Oh. My. God.

  Andre.

  Those green eyes are on me now, and confusion has his dark brows drawn down. I see the moment he realizes what is happening, and his eyes widen.

  “Andre, this is Camille,” Kristina says.

  “What the fuck?” he mouths the words at me, but all I can do is stand there like a goddamn statue as I feel the walls close in around me.

  Because yeah, what the actual fuck?

  Conversation floats around me, but I don’t hear words, I just see mouths moving, feel Andre’s intense gaze on me, but then my father is talking to me, and from the look he gives, I know he expects an answer.

  “Um...yes,” I say, hoping it’s the right answer.

  My dad frowns at me. “You seem tired, sweetheart. Is everything okay at the rink?”

  “Yeah. It’s fine...” I glance at Andre who’s now in a conversation with his mother. “I’m fine. I just....I forgot to eat this morning and I’m feeling a little lightheaded.”

  Kristina turns and takes my hand. “I’ve prepared a lunch for us.” Which means my father’s cook, Beatrice, has been slaving all morning in the kitchen. “Why don’t we go to the dining room. It’s right this way.” She motions me toward the hall and I have to bite my tongue on the comment I want to make. This was my house before it was hers.

  My father places an arm around his new wife’s waist and gazes down at her adoringly as they walk toward the dining room.

  “Did you know about this?” Andre whispers in my ear, his breathing hard.

  “No. Of course not,” I say back, frustration making my words clipped.

  “This is insane.” He drags a hand over his face, and when his mom turns, he straightens and gives her a forced smile. When she turns back around, he gives my shoulders a squeeze. “We’ll figure this out.”

  But will we? I mean, my god, the man I’m sleeping with is my freaking stepbrother.

  His mother sits at the dining room table, next to my dad. “Look at you two, already getting along.” She smiles at me, then says looking back at my father, “I can already see family vacations in the future. The kids playing in the water as we read poolside.”

  I feel bile rise as plates of food are set before us. Andre sits next to me, and my belly flip-flops.

  “We’re not exactly kids, are we?” I say, wanting to erase the idea of Andre and me in the pool with my father watching. If I’m in a bikini around Andre, his cock will be standing at attention and my nipples will be rock hard. Being in a swimsuit with my stepbrother is the last thing I want.

  And now all I can imagine is Andre’s cock. Hard. In my face. Thick. Rigid.

  I let out a moan.

  “You okay, sweetheart?” my father asks.

  “Fine,” I manage. “Just uh, stabbed myself with the fork.”

  Kristina frowns and I wonder what is she doing here, with my dad anyway? From my conversation with Andre the other night, my dad makes husband number nine.

  “So you’ve been married before?” I ask her pointedly. I feel Andre’s hand on my thigh, squeezing it under the table, and I decide to not totally throw his mother under the bus.

  “Yes, but never to a man like Tyson,” she says, smiling at my dad like he hung the stars in the sky. She takes his hand when he offers it to her, and says, “The moment I saw him, I just knew.”

  Like you knew the other eight times, I want to say. But for Andre, I bite my tongue.

  “Where did you meet, exactly?” I ask, knowing that’s a safer topic.

  My father and his bride look at one another and they answer at the same time.

  “The country club,” she says just as my dad says, “Dr. Wilson’s.”

  I look between them and see my dad blush.

  “Why were you at Dr. Wilson’s?” I ask, having a feeling he’s the one telling the truth. “You don’t need any work done!” I know this doctor well because my mother has been to him for liposuction, a facelift, and breast augmentation all in the past couple of years, not to mention bi-weekly trips for Botox.

  “I know it’s silly,” Dad says, his cheeks still red. “But I thought maybe if I got some work done, a few wrinkles erased is all, that I’d be more...” He shrugs and I see the insecurities flash in his eyes.

  “Dad, you’re perfect.” I know he feels inferior since my mother has been posting photos of her cougar conquests on Insta
gram.

  “Your mother doesn’t think so.” His comment is made under his breath, but we all hear it. And I realize then, my dad married Kristina so that my mom would be jealous. It kills me to think he needs to compete like this to win her back.

  And in a way I feel bad for Andre’s mom. Because I know that my dad will never love anyone the way he loved my mom.

  “Let’s change the subject, shall we?” Kristina pours herself another glass of champagne. “Andre, when do I get to meet this mystery girl who you were raving about?”

  I choke on my water and my dad asks if I’m sure I’m okay. He says I’ve been acting off since I got here. “I know it’s a lot to take in, sweetie, but Kristina and I are really, really ...” He pauses as if looking for the word.

  “Happy?” I offer.

  “Yes. Happy.” He squeezes his wife’s hand and kisses her. This gentle gesture seems to soften the awkward tension in the room, and Andre and I let out a collective exhale.

  We may have just dodged a bullet, but I’m guessing there will be a few more close calls before the day is through.

  Chapter Five

  Andre

  Of all the fucking surprises that life has thrown at me over the years, walking into that room and having my mom introduce Camille as my new stepsister has to be the biggest.

  After lunch, my mom walks me around the grounds, showing off her new home. I have no idea where Camille has gone off to, but I need to find her, need to figure out what the fuck we’re going to do.

  I like the woman. A lot. And this is more than a complication, it’s a complete clusterfuck.

  “You’re quiet today,” my mom says, straightening the collar of my shirt. “Do you not approve of Tyson?”

  “He seems great, Mom,” I tell her honestly. What I can’t tell her is that I fucked his daughter a few nights ago, and I haven’t been able to think about anything else since.

  “I think you’ll really like him once you get to know him better. And his daughter seems really sweet. I want you to make an effort with her, okay?”