Page 14 of A Boy is a Gun: Part I
But I don’t know…I felt like it was my home, but not really. As Tesh put it, everyone treated me as if I was “Lady of the Home,” but it felt weird. Cam and I aren’t married, and I’m not sure when we will be if it’ll happen. It’s my home, but if Cameron wanted me gone, I’d leave with the clothing on my back.
He’ll keep Mia.
I don’t know if he would, but I wouldn’t put it past Cameron. He has enough power and money to buy silence and cooperation from many people. My reputation would be damaged before sunlight, and I will be found guilty in a court of law and public opinion.
I shake the thoughts from my head when I hear the bedroom door open and close. Only a few people have access to it, but mostly everyone would announce via the intercom outside the door that they need to come in.
I feel his presence before he says a word. Cameron has a sensual, powerful energy that follows him no matter where he goes. It’s beyond Big Dick Energy. He’s in his closet next to mine, and I hear him opening and closing various drawers. He usually wouldn’t be home, but I know he changed his hours since Mia’s birth.
He’s not a stay-at-home father, but Cameron can work at his leisure. I’ve seen him do conference calls as he fed Mia. He often stays up with her so I can sleep and takes care of her better than any nanny or caregiver.
But I also know there’s no other reason for Cameron to be home during the day unless something happened. Cameron works business hours just like any other fully-functioning adult. He’s never home at 11 A.M. to be here. I know better than to ask too many unanswered questions.
I feel the energy shift in my closet and look to my left. My baby daddy is standing in just some lounge pants and a white tank top. Damn, that man is fine. He could wear a burlap sack for all I care, and I would still want to ride that dick.
His body is lean and muscular. Sharp cheekbones lead to full lips, and his mousy brown hair is wavy and soft. This man has won the genetic lottery, and he knows it. He wears clothing that tailors to his body, and they wear him, not the other way around.
It’s beyond confidence and money that makes Cameron attractive. He blends in with everyone. His clothing looks like it came from the mall, but real money eyes know the high-end stores he wears.
He’s a man who only speaks when he has something to say and not because he loves how his voice sounds. He’s sincere and not pretentious. His confidence makes me even more confident. What makes Cameron more attractive is holding Mia and bouncing her as he stares at me.
“Look at Mommy!” He coos to her, and damn it, and I want to give him five more babies now. “You see, Mommy? Look at her! See how beautiful your Mommy is?”
I’m standing in my bra and panties, but clothes can wait. Cameron has this way of making me feel special without doing anything. He’s beyond capable of giving me the best, and he has on many occasions, but it’s the little things. The intimate things don’t need to be broadcast on Lizzo’s internet.
I get lost in his smile, his charm, and just the way he listens to me, even when I’m babbling about how stupidLove is Blindor why I just wasted precious time binge-watchingOzarkwhen I could’ve had a V8.
When it comes to our love for 80’s R&B, that’s where we connect. I’m constantly discovering hidden gems from that decade, making me wish I was around to appreciate them. It’s not that I don’t like the new stuff, but old R&B was like a three-minute love letter.
These new singers sound like rappers and talk about how they want to fuck with no signs of romance. And people wonder why women aren’t giving up their panties like they used to.
Never mind all that. I walk over to Cameron and kiss him. It’s not polite,‘Hey, how’s it going? How was your day, honey?’kiss. It’s a bit more sensual. I realized it’d been almost three months since I’d had sex, and seeing Cameron look like a walking sex advertisement reminds me of that fact.
I love the smell of him, the taste of him, and how he sounds when he’s inside me. He’s not loud, but he has these sexy little grunts and words that encourage my orgasm every time. His lips and hands are generous. And that dick…oh my God…that glorious dick of his could turn the most asexual person into a whore.
“You’re home early?” I ask as I kiss Mia. “Are you home for the day or a little while?”
“Just for a little while,” he walks into the bedroom and follows him. We climb up to the bed and just lay down with Mia. “Wanted to come home to see my queens, and then I’ll head off to the nightclub later.”
This is where we’re the most intimate, just the three of us. It feels like we’re our little army. “Where you’ll see all the hoochies you can,” I reply with a sly smile.
Cameron shakes his head. “I don’t want a broken-down car when I have the top-of-the-line right next to me.” He grins.
I know Cameron is trying to make me feel better, but I’ve seen the women who follow him on social media. It is nice to say they’re the highest quality Mattel plastic and fat transfers. Some of them follow me, but I know what the deal is.
Your haters will always have a front-row seat to your performance. “If you need a ride, though, you’re not going to care too much about what type of car it is,” I mention.
“Oh yes, I will,” Cameron smiles at me, and again, I’m lost within him. His smile could brighten the darkest sky. He looks at me with amusement and awe, like every day is Christmas whenever he sees me. I can’t lie: I love the way that feels. “There’s nothing to be jealous of, angel. Everyone knows we’re together.”
“And that’s the problem,” I mention, and I don’t pretend that I’m going to be Ms. Nonchalant when I’m very muchbothered. “Them hoes don’t care.”
Cameron was with Jacqueline when he was a teenager, and she was already in her thirties. Despite her reputation, it’s an incredibly high bar to pass. She was grace personified and wore nothing but the finest designer.
She carried herself like royalty, and everyone treated her as such. I don’t have to wonder why Heather hated her guts and had a small tea gathering to celebrate her death. Usually, I would have something to say about a bunch of Karens celebrating a Black woman’s death, but I allow this exception.
I’m completely the opposite of any woman Cameron has dated. I’m awkward. I laugh loudly, and I enjoy quirky things. I can put on the charm and class when the mood presents itself, but I’m going to keep it one hundred–that’s not me all the time. I often go without makeup and with my face beaten to the gods.
I only own all this designer stuff because of Cameron. He wanted me to match his style while still appreciating my own. The distressed jeans I’ve had from Fashion Nova that cost maybe thirty bucks, are replaced with Mousy Vintage jeans that cost about three bills.
