Morrison Read online

  “I need to be in you, Hailey.”

  I don’t give it a second thought. In the two encounters I have had with him, he has given me the only pleasure I have ever received from a man. Now he needs to be in me—checks and balances.

  I open my legs to him as he drops his pants, rolls on a condom, and then delicately removes my panties as if he was opening the best present in his whole damn life. Under his gaze, my insecurities creep back up, but before I can dwell on them, he is over me, and then he is in me.

  Filling me.

  Every inch of my body quivers as he stretches me, then stills inside me and stares down at me, watching me, taking me in. Never have I been so full in so many ways. This moment is so intimate, so vulnerable, but at the same time, it feels like a true connection. What is it about this Caldwell man that consumes me?

  “Platinum,” he whispers before he finally moves.

  I can’t think of what that means, because he is suddenly building me up to another orgasm. He rocks, he rolls, he grinds, and I am helpless to do anything but take the pleasure he continues to induce inside my body before I finally burst again, calling out his name and biting into his shoulder just to remind myself he is real.

  With two more thrusts, he stills, then lets go right behind me. He gives me a soft, slow kiss before pulling out, and when he goes to dispose of the condom, I find myself feeling empty. But the moment of space allows my mind to function again.

  Empty. How can someone I don’t even fucking know make me feel so empty just by leaving my side for a second? I am certifiably insane to be so wild over a complete damn stranger.

  With that thought, dread washes over me. The fog is gone. He is still a complete stranger, and I am still a whore. However, he comes back before I can make an escape. Crawling into the bed beside me, he pulls me to him. Then, at my hesitation, he moves away to give me space.

  “Talk to me.”

  “I need to go.” I remove my legs from his and cover my breasts.

  “Not yet. Talk to me. An hour ago, you were clawing me like you wanted to devour me. You just came twice, babe. I gave that to you.” He strokes my face and taps my temple. “It’s obvious I want in there. What’s going on in your head?”

  “Nothing. I just need to go.”

  “Deny what you feel, and I’ll say not one word as you leave,” he challenges.

  I hesitate, my eyes flickering, and he reads me.

  “Deny it. Deny me.” He smirks, causing my body to feel like it’s on fire all over again.

  “I don’t know you.”

  “Name’s Caldwell, Morrison Caldwell, middle brother to Hendrix and Jagger from Detroit. What else you wanna know?”

  “What’s your play?” I ask, feeling the obligation hit me. He’s right—he gave me not one but two orgasms. We’re not even.

  Before I can continue, he replies, “No play. You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and I’m drawn to you. I wanna know you.”

  “Talking naked isn’t really my thing,” I respond, feeling very vulnerable and even more exposed than before.

  Without a word, he gets up and tosses me a button-up shirt from his closet, and I slip it on, realizing I am not getting out of this so easily.

  I can do this. I can talk until he falls asleep. Then he gets what he is requesting, and I’ll be out of sight and out of mind.

  I give him a bit of general chitchat where I avoid all of the important answers, then pretend to be tired, and he settles in behind me and orders me to sleep. Controlling my breathing, I let him believe I am enjoying dreamland. When he finally relaxes his embrace and his breathing steadies, I know he is sound asleep. Now I can make my escape.

  My heart beats loudly in my ears as I shift from under his naked body. Scooping up my panties, I slip them on under my work skirt. I start to unbutton his shirt to leave it behind, but as I move, I smell it—I smell him. Not wanting to risk him waking, I skip putting on a bra and changing into my shirt, deciding it’s best to stay in his.

  I look back at him one last time. “Caldwell” is tattooed down his spine in black ink. I will never forget that name, but I sure as hell will force myself to forget his touch, his taste, and his tenderness.

  I shake my head, trying to erase him as I gather my things and slip out of his room.

  It’s still early morning, when most people are sleeping, but it’s hours past the end of my shift as I make my way to the parking lot. The tingle on my neck causes me to look around like someone is watching me.

  Scanning the area, I don’t see anyone at first glance, but as I insert the key into the door of my car, I see Marshall. Someone was watching me, indeed—my ex’s right-hand man.

  Certainly, he’s not here for me. No way. Marshall doesn’t shy away from confrontation, and as much as he may like me in general, he won’t push Monte when it comes down to it.

  Ever.

  He must be here for someone else.

  That is my last thought as I get into my car and head home, sated, satisfied, and for the first time in my entire life, somehow okay.

  I feel the tingle on the back of my neck again as I laugh to myself. “I’m okay until the bottom falls out, and in the end, the bottom will fall out.” I mutter the words to no one as I pull in at Jamie’s and park my car.

  If only I had a crystal ball to show me the future…Although, I guess I should be careful what I wish for. I once heard someone say, “If you speak it, you give life to it.”

  I drop Marisa off at school with dread settling into the pit of my stomach. Quickly, I make my way to the casino to pick up my paycheck, aware I need to get to the bank and deposit the funds so the check I just wrote for her tuition doesn’t bounce.

  I sign the paper at the office for receiving my check, and I’m just outside the door when my cheap-ass, prepaid cellphone rings. The number looks familiar, though not one I recognize as an emergency call, like Jamie or Marisa’s school. With the push of a button, the call connects.

  “Hello,” I answer nonchalantly.

  “Hailey.” His voice is gravelly and distinctive, and the fact that he is merely saying my name is a death sentence. “It’s Marshall. Gotta tell you, Monte knows about your tryst with Aces. This is not a good thing for you, or for Ris Priss. Gotta have a payment.”

  Without a second thought, without hesitation, I bolt to the parking lot. Marshall called and threatened Marisa, and I know what this means. I have lived the life long enough to know I have to get to my daughter now. Tears run freely down my face, but I don’t give a fuck.

  Someone grabs me. I think it’s Morrison Caldwell, but I don’t have time for him right now. I jerk free and continue out of the casino. I have to get to Marisa.

  Right. The. Fuck. Now.

  Chapter 9

  Morrison

  I watch as she basically runs out the door. It’s not my style to chase after ass, but then again, I have never had ass so fine in my life. This chick gives as good as she gets, too.

  They say gambling is an addiction, but I assure you it’s not. I can walk away from the table anytime I want. That platinum pussy, however…Hailey, she’s addictive. She’s crack on steroids. She has me renting a room in this casino when I own a fucking place, just so I can make sure I’m tappin’ that ass again, tasting that pussy again, devouring her mouth again. I’m a platinum junkie.

  Before I can convince myself it’s a bad idea, I am out the door and running to my car. I catch her taking a left out of my peripheral vision. I also see her wipe her eyes, and I immediately feel sick. I don’t know if I’m sick because she’s crying, thinking maybe it’s about me; if I’m sick because she’s upset, and I wanna know why; or if I’m sick because I wanna know who has her so fucking emotional that she is running after him.

  As a result, I do what any man who has been plugged into platinum would do—I follow at a close distance.

  “I must be out of my damn mind,” I say to myself as I count, finding I am three cars behind her.

&nbs
p; Three is a good number.

  My phone rings, and I hit the answer button on my steering wheel. “This is Morrison.”

  “No shit.” Jagger laughs, the sound flowing through my stereo speakers.

  “Sorry, man. I, um…” She swerves between two cars and moves into the right lane. I check my mirror, only to see I can’t get over. “Fuck!”

  “Is that so?”

  “Shit, man, sorry. I forgot you were there.”

  “Damn, man, are you already drunk? It’s early.”

  “No, I’m…uh…I’m…” I lay on my horn as I inch into the right lane, and some asshole in a jacked-up pickup nearly clips me. “Watch it, motherfucker!”

  “You okay?”

  I swerve behind the jacked-up Dodge and nearly get hit in the ass, but I’m in the right lane.

  Horns blare behind me, and I want to flip the asshole off; instead, I lean out the window and look back at him. “Did you see me signal, asshole?”

  “What in the fuck has gotten into you?” Jagger chuckles.

  “Nothing, man. I’m just…busy right now.” I see her turn right, and the fucking light turns red. I look at the Dodge in front of me, ready to drive over his ass, and then I catch a glimpse of the silver balls swinging from the tow hitch. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

  “Hey, brother, you in trouble?” Jagger asks.

  “No trouble. No.” I punch the steering wheel out of frustration.

  “What the hell is going on? Are you okay?”

  “No, I’m not fucking okay! I’m gonna lose—” I stop when I realize I am about to admit to my little brother that I am literally chasing ass.

  “Lose what? A game, a bet?”

  “Yeah. No.” I hit the wheel again. “It’s complicated.”

  “Uh-huh. I see.”

  “Good.” The right-lane light is green, and no one is moving. I lay on the horn. “Come on, you ball-swinging motherfucker!”

  “Bro, what the fuck is your problem?” I can tell by the tone of his voice he is seriously concerned.

  We’re moving now, thank God.

  “Road rage, man. I need to chill out, but dumb asses that sit at green lights piss me off.”

  The light is yellow, and I am one car behind the intersection. Silver Balls slows down, and I lay on the horn. He flips me off, then punches the gas. His silver balls fly in the air. I punch it and make it through as the light turns red.

  “Fuck yeah, bitches!” I yell out my victory.

  “Seriously need to chill, man.”

  “Just celebrating the small stuff.”

  “So, when you coming home?”

  “When I have the bankroll I need,” I say, swerving left to try to locate Hailey’s car. I spot it two lights ahead. She’s heading out of the city. I’ll be able to catch up.

  “You ahead?”

  “Yeah, sure am. You need some cash?”

  “Nah, I have a fight in two weeks. I’ll be good.”

  There isn’t a hell of a lot of confidence in his voice. “You sure, man?”

  “I’m good, Morrison.”

  “Don’t bullshit me. If you need something, let me know.”

  I slam on my brakes, stopping right at a red light. “Fuck!”

  Jagger laughs. “Traffic again?”

  “Fucking red lights. Total bullshit.”

  I grab my phone and hit my online banking app. I transfer two grand into his account. “Just sent you some cash. If you don’t need it”—I pause as I look up and see the light is green, punch the gas, and lay a little rubber—“then put it back after the fight. You’ll have it if something comes up.”

  “Unnecessary, man.” Jagger sighs.

  “That’s what brothers are for. Look—” I hit the brakes when Ball Sack’s nuts fly again. “Tool,” I hiss.

  “Excuse me?” Jagger laughs.

  “Look, I’ll catch up with you. I wanna snap a pic of this asshole’s truck and send it to ya. I’ll get with ya soon.”

  “Sweet. Thanks, man.”

  “Like I said, that’s what brothers are for.”

  I grab my phone and take a pic, then send a message.

  For men who ain’t got enough of their own, there is now help. Big trucks and fake balls can help give you back your confidence. WTF!

  I push send as the light turns green.

  I follow her for ten minutes until we are in a small, upscale community. But the girl I’ve been playing with isn’t upscale. She doesn’t seem like someone who looks down on people. She seems fucking authentic.

  I try to turn off the crazy scenarios I have playing in my head, ’cause I am logical. I’m calculating. I am not one to let myself get wrapped up in emotions. I want facts, and I wanna see with my own eyes, so I continue to follow.

  Two minutes later, I am on a side street in an honest-to-God fucking school zone. Now I have some really crazy shit rolling in my head. I watch as she pulls over and jumps out of the car. Then she runs inside this preschool while I wait.

  When she comes out five minutes later, she is laughing and smiling at this little kid she has in her arms. The kid is dressed in a little pink romper with a matching bow in her hair and pint-sized Chuck Taylors. This kid is about the show. Well, her parents are, anyway, and the girl I’ve been borderline obsessing over isn’t show. Hailey is all tell.

  I take in a deep breath, my mind calming the fuck down. I allow myself to rationalize this situation, and pretty much figure out that Hailey has a day job as a nanny or something. This makes me laugh, because I was right: Although her body is all soft skin and sexy, sharp curves, her exterior, her show is not. But hot damn, when I am in her, on her, touching her, I can read that tell, and she is not as hard and rough around the edges as she thinks she needs to be.

  I pull out after she is two blocks ahead and follow. I should turn around. She isn’t crying anymore; she’s smiling. She wasn’t going to some man; she was picking up someone’s kid. I should chalk this up as a stupid-ass move and turn around. But I don’t.

  Two miles away, she pulls up in front of an apartment complex in not the best part of town. She carries the kid inside, and then I see another chick pull up. She gets out of her car and runs to the door Hailey went in.

  I sit and wait.

  Ten minutes later, Hailey is carrying boxes out the door and throwing them in the back of her ride before she runs back in. As she comes out this time, she has boxes piled up in her arms, and I know damn well she can’t see. When she trips and falls, the boxes spill out all over the sidewalk. She covers her face with her hands and pulls her knees up to her chest, her body shaking.

  Instinct can be a lifesaver. It can also get you killed. Like the poor bastard who leaps in front of a car to push someone out of the way and gets nailed. Like the guy who jumps in front of a drug-crazed lunatic with a gun and thinks he’s gonna save everyone in the store by taking the man down, only to end up dead. Like the mom who feels her kids are being threatened and puts herself between them and what she considers a danger and gets her ass beat down by some sick fuck. And like right now, as I am kneeling beside Hailey, pulling her into my arms because instinct kicked in and I didn’t wanna see her hurt.

  She pushes me away and wipes at her face, trying to erase the evidence that her tell is out there for the whole world to see. While she gasps for words, I turn away and start picking up all the clothes spilled on the sidewalk.

  Finally, she stops trying to talk and starts frantically shoving things in boxes, too. I pick up the first box and load it into her car, and then the second. I turn to grab the third, but she is on my heels, pushing past me.

  “Mommy?” I hear from behind.

  I look at the little girl she had in her arms earlier, and Hailey takes a deep breath and avoids my gaze.

  “Almost ready, Marisa.” Her voice is soft and so full of love I am almost floored.

  “For our adventure?” the little girl says.

  “Yep.” She turns back and looks at me. “Thanks
.”

  When she starts to walk away, I grab her arm, stopping her.

  “Hey, Marisa, we forgot one thing. Come help me get it?” the other female says to the little girl.

  “Yep. Be right back, Mommy.”

  “I’ll be right here, Ris. Just hurry up. We don’t want to be late.”

  When the door shuts behind her daughter—her fucking daughter—my hands start to shake. “Something you need to tell me?”

  “I don’t owe you—”

  “Enough of the ‘owe me’ shit, Hailey. I’ve never asked for a damn thing, but right now, I’m gonna, and you’re gonna give it to me.”

  “Is that so?” The edge has returned to her voice.

  “Are you married?”

  She looks confused.

  “Did you sneak out of my hotel room this morning to go hop in your husband’s bed? Is that why—”

  “Legally, yes, but that is none of your business.”

  “It sure as fuck is my business.” I am pissed, and I don’t do pissed.

  “I don’t have time for alpha attitude or a man standing in front of me making demands. If my little girl wasn’t gonna be walking back out that door any minute, I would use language you’ve probably never even heard. But because I have to be mother, father, and protector of that little girl, I will give you an answer. Then you’re gonna get in that shiny little car of yours and drive the hell away, because, as nice as things have been, Slick, you are not my reality.

  “Yes, I have a husband. We are separated, and he is not a good man; hell, he doesn’t even pretend to be. He would sell his own child if he thought he could get away with it.

  “I’m not gonna sugarcoat this. He thinks I owe him, and hell, maybe I do. I thought I had more time, and I did, until he heard I spent the night with ‘Aces.’ Now he’s calling in my debt, and that little girl—my little girl—is what he will take if I don’t give it to him. So excuse me if I didn’t stop to chat earlier, but I have more important things to deal with.

  “Now, if you would kindly leave—and don’t look back, Slick, ’cause there is nothing sexy, shiny, or pretty for you to look at anymore.”

  “How much do you owe him?”