My days were spent sewing and my nights were spent being stuffed full of the best dick I’d ever experienced.
The day of the barbecue dawned sunny and hot, but that was to be expected on the Fourth of July. It was the twins’ twenty-ninth birthday and even though some people suggested that she should wait until their thirtieth to do a huge soiree, Carrington had decided not to take their advice. She confided in me that it was an important birthday for her and Cameron, because it was the last one where she would be more connected to her twin than anyone else on earth. After she married Bryce, she felt like that designation of the person closest to her on earth would go to her husband. She wanted one last major celebration with her twin.
“Ay,” Carrington called over her shoulder giving Cameron, Bryce and me the evil eye, “move it! Once the rental company finishes setting up the tables and chairs, we have to get the tablecloths laid down. Let’s go!” She snapped her fingers.
Bryce jumped to attention and quickly followed her out of the sliding doors of the guest house. Cameron and I hung back.
“She’s gonna be on this drill sergeant shit all day. Bet money.” He pulled me into his arms as he complained.
I let him nuzzle his face in my neck. “She just wants to make sure that the party is good. I think she feels like it’s a dry run for how the wedding is gonna go.” My hands went to his head and rubbed it the way I knew that he liked.
“I don’t wanna be bothered. All I wanna do is take you in the back and—”
“Aht aht! None of that. We can do that later on tonight.”
“I told you some of my cousins are coming in from out of town. They’re gonna stay here. You’re gonna stay with me.”
“You sure? You know I can get a room.”
He nuzzled deeper, causing me to giggle. “Of course, I’m sure. You just promised me birthday pussy after this is over. You think I’m gonna let you renege?”
“I gave you birthday sex last night… and this morning.”
“Right, at my house. So why all of a sudden would I expect you to get a room? Actually, you can bring all of your shit and just stay at my house until I leave for training camp. You don’t even sleep here anymore. You sleep in my bed. The guest house is like a clothes closet for you.”
I loved going to sleep and waking up with Cameron.
“Me moving into the big house is not a very summer fling thing.”
“Yo, first of all, you’ve been there every single night since like… week three. Second of all, we’re both fully aware that we moved out of summer fling territory weeks ago. You’re my… summer woman now, Brooklyn. And as such, I’mma need you to get your shit right quick before my cousins get here and move it to my crib. Just pick a bedroom and put your shit in there, but your body… that’ll be in my bedroom.”
I fought to keep from grinning at the thought that he wanted me to stay in his house for the rest of the summer, but I lost the battle. “I don’t have time. Carrington expects me to help her with these last-minute touches.”
“I thought that was why she made me hire a party planner? What the hell is Tamera doing while Carrington does her job?”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“Get your stuff. Get your clothes, your toiletries, and whatever else you need on a daily basis. I’ll distract Carri while you grab your stuff.”
“Gimme a kiss.” I pulled his face down to mine.
Cameron attacked my mouth, kissing me deeply while palming the cheeks of my ass. My heart fluttered in my chest. I was playing a dangerous game with him. I knew I would regret it later, but I just couldn’t stop myself from falling or breaking away from him. Everything about him had me in a chokehold, and I apparently liked being choked.
By the time the party started at two o’clock, the temperature had risen to ninety-three degrees. People were arriving by the time I got back from picking up a few last-minute things from the grocery store at Carrington’s request. I dipped into the big house and took a quick shower before stepping into my custom bikini.
As pink had become my signature color of the summer, the fabric for both the bra top and bottoms was a hot pink base with baby blue and white seashells. The bra top was longline, coming down to the middle of my rib cage. The bottoms featured a micro miniskirt and were high waisted, coming to the bottom of my rib cage. The look was definitely demure, compared to what some of the others were wearing. It was also subtly sexy, which made me feel confident wearing it.
I brushed my curly hair into a neat ponytail, slapped on some waterproof deodorant and slathered on sunscreen. I finished the look with hoop earrings, matching colorful slides and my oversized square shades. I could’ve grabbed a sarong or some other cover-up, but since my bikini bottoms had a little skirt I opted against that.
Cameron’s sizable backyard had been transformed for the party. The grassy knoll—the lawn area that stood between the deck and the seashore—was dotted with tables and chairs for guests as well as buffet tables filled with chafing dishes, platters and cloches. The bar as well as the DJ booth were also situated in that area. It was the place to be if you needed a break from the sun’s strong rays, because everything was covered by shade-providing tents.
The side yard-- the area of lawn that led from the “big house” to the guest house was where a volleyball net, life-size Jenga and the bean bag toss had been set up. By the pool were umbrella covered square tables that I knew were set up for cards—Spades, Bid Whist and even Uno.
I stopped by one of the buffet tables, grabbed a paper bowl and filled it with chunks of juicy, fresh fruit before heading to the pool area where Carrington was holding court.
Cameron stood with a bevy of guys around him. They were all bare chested, but I really only noticed Cameron. The swim trunks I’d made for him-- white with orange and turquoise surfboards, hung easily from his slim waist. As I moved to pass by the group of three men, Cameron caught my arm stopping me. He dug a piece of watermelon from my bowl and popped it into his mouth before speaking.
“Ay, Antonio. Ay, Yusef.” He called his cousins by name while easily draping his long arm over my shoulder. “This is Brooklyn. She’s…”