What To Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection Part Two (172 page)

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Christa Cervone

Cover design by Todd M. LeMieux

Cover image © Christa Cervone

Back cover image © Christa Cervone

No portion of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any print or electronic form without the permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and coincidental. Any resemblances between persons living or dead, establishments, events or location is entirely coincidental.

The portrayal of Alex Minsky’s story has been altered to suit this book. Though some of his story is true this is not a biography of his life.

This book and cover would not be what it is without you and your story. I truly appreciate all the time you took out of your busy life to talk to me. Your story as well as your outlook on life truly inspires me as it does people all over the world. Don’t ever lose the spark you have inside of you.

Alex, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. You helped me turn Garrett into a truly sexy beast.

Just give me a reason

Just a little bit’s enough

Just a second we’re not broken just bent

And we can learn to love again

Give Me Just a Reason—P!nk

M
y Saturday started just like every other Saturday with me lying in bed, my mind in a fog and my head pounding from all the tequila I had consumed the night before. The memories of bringing Chris, Kyle, Connor or whatever his name was, back to my apartment were flashing through my head. I remember the two of us leaving the bar as I closed my eyes trying to shake the memory.

We met on the dance floor at Danny’s, the bar I work at. I pushed him up against the wall outside of the employee entrance. With my hands down the front of his pants practically exposing him, I kissed his neck. His skin tasted salty from his sweat. Taking a step back I pulled him towards the stairwell that leads up to my apartment. I carefully tried to climb the stairs backwards but tripped over my own foot and fell landing on my ass. I tugged on his t-shirt pulling him on top of me. My hands fumbled to pull his pants down.

Over the years, sex and alcohol had almost become a necessity for me to function. It temporarily filled the gaping hole I’d been left with when my heart shattered four long years ago. Even though the sex and booze were only a momentary fix, it helped me through my nights.

I opened my eyes wide trying to make the memories of last night stop. I was so pissed at myself for doing what I did but another flash hit me.

I slowly slid my body down a step until my mouth was pressed up against his already exposed cock. I heard him moan. He grabbed my hair with both of his hands and guided himself into my mouth. I slowly ran my tongue down his cock, hoping it would drive him crazy. He sucked in a big gasp of air. I stood up and moved myself up a few steps and pulled my skirt up revealing that I had no underwear on.

He laughed a deep devilish laugh. “You’re a bad girl, Leila.”

“I know,” I purred gently nibbling on his ear.

He moved up the stairs and stood face to face with me. Bringing his index and middle fingers to his mouth, he wet them with his tongue. Licking them like a lollipop. He then lowered his hand and pushed his fingers into my pussy. His eyes were staring at me with such intensity. I knew he wanted me.

I dug my nails into his back. “Fuck me,” I said hoarsely, the words barely coming out.

He quickly pulled his fingers out of me, yanked my hips closer and thrust his cock inside me with one swift move
.
I let out a deep moan and dug my nails deeper into his back. He flinched from the pain, though he never asked me to stop as he kept plowing himself into me. We both froze when we heard the employee door open below us. Once I realized no one was coming, I began to giggle and thrust my hips up and down his length again.

“Don’t stop,” I said breathlessly.

As the memory persisted, I began to feel sick to my stomach. I took my pillow and put it over my face and screamed as I clenched my eyes shut. My chest was heaving from my anger, and still my mind wandered back to what happened next.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he panted in my ear.

I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t really interested in taking him back to my place. I nodded my head even though I would’ve been happy to get off on the stairs. He pulled out of me and yanked his pants up roughly without zipping or buttoning them. We walked up the last few stairs, and I searched frantically for my key at the bottom of my purse. The tequila was running through me as I fumbled trying to get my key in the lock but dropped it on the ground instead.

As I bent over to pick it up, I felt him push his erection against me. Standing up, I reached around and freed him from his pants. I hiked my skirt around my waist and stood on my tiptoes guiding his cock into me. He slammed me up against the door causing me to grip the door jam to steady myself and regain my footing as he rammed himself into me. “Harder,” I gasped.

Fuck me!
I flung the pillow off my face and across my room. I quickly leapt out of bed and began pacing back and forth. How could I let myself act so cheap? I actually fucked someone on the stairs, and I have no clue what his name was. Last night felt like an out of body experience.

I remembered how I pretended to be asleep, hoping he would just leave. Thankfully, after a few minutes, he did. The thought of random men touching me and wanting to hold me after sex actually made my skin crawl. The last thing I needed to complicate my life was another relationship. It was pretty obvious to me that I was in no state to have or even handle a steady boyfriend.

My self-destructive behavior and self-hatred had hit an all-time high. I threw myself back onto my bed and buried my head in my pillow again. I let out another scream and closed my eyes tightly, as my mind began to race. I’d had enough this time. I forced my thoughts onto something else.

I began thinking about my grandma and how much I missed her and what she would think about my recent behavior. It was hard to believe she had been gone for almost two years now. I had spent so much of my childhood with her. It was like having a second mother.

My grandma had always called herself a “shutterbug.” She was one of those people who always walked around with a camera either in her hand or around her neck. She must have taken a million pictures of me throughout the years. She and my grandfather were the ones who bought me my first camera. I can remember it clearly––I was turning ten years old, and she was so excited to give me my gift. She didn’t even wait until my birthday.

It was a Kodak point and shoot camera, and although it wasn’t a great camera, it was my very own, and I loved it. I took pictures of my dolls. I posed them up against my bed, changing their outfits and their hairstyles. Luckily, it was a digital camera, so I was able to view the pictures on a computer.

I was so deep in thought when my alarm actually went off, it scared the living shit out of me, making me jump a mile. “Ugh,” I moaned.
I’m just not into shooting this wedding today
.

As a recent graduate of WSU, with a Bachelor’s Degree in Art, I’d wanted to be a photographer, for as long as I could remember. Once I’d begun high school, and they’d offered a photography class as an elective, it was a no-brainer for me. I’d eventually become really good. One Christmas, my parents and grandparents pitched in and bought me a digital SLR camera. With my new camera, I started photographing my friends, family, neighbors and even the children I babysat after school. Anytime you would see me, there would be a camera either in my hand or around my neck just like my grandma.

I became the photographer for the school newspaper and took many of my classmates’ senior pictures for the yearbook. It was a nice, little part-time job for me during high school. When the time came to figure out what I was going to do for a career, it was pretty obvious. I was fortunate that the local University offered an art major and photography classes. Although my mom wasn’t poor, I knew she couldn’t afford to send me to some fancy photography school in the city.

Once I started college, my high school photography teacher, Mrs. Grady, introduced me to a local wedding photographer named Katie Wright. Katie also was one of Mrs. Grady’s students. Mrs. Grady gave me a glowing recommendation. Katie and I hit it off immediately. Katie began her career in photography in her early twenties. She took the industry by storm. Within the first few years of her career, she became one of the most highly demanded wedding photographers in our area. This was a huge accomplishment considering her age and the length of time she had been photographing. She stood all of five feet tall and weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet. She had long brown straight hair, deep green eyes and a perfect complexion.

Don’t let Katie’s size deceive you, when it came to her photography business, she was a killer business woman. Even though she was one of the youngest photographers at any given bridal show, every bride and groom wanted to meet with her because of her reputation. There would be a line at her booth waiting to discuss their up-coming wedding. Working with Katie was great. She taught me everything there was to know about the wedding photography business.

When I first began working with Katie, she told me she wanted to ease me in slowly. Even though I had over three years of experience with photographing my classmates, wedding photography was much different. She described many of her brides as “Bridezillas.” At first, I didn’t understand what she meant by that. However, once I had worked a few weddings it became very clear as to what she meant. Some of the brides were crazy. I started off as Katie’s assistant at weddings, I was there to make sure the bride and groom looked perfect. I assisted in the posing and also kept the wedding party in line, in case they got rowdy. She called me “her second set of eyes.” Eventually, she had me photographing the weddings alongside her. After I graduated, she officially promoted me to a photographer. I was so thrilled. I was actually going out and photographing weddings on my own.

In addition to working with Katie, I also served at Danny’s. I had been waiting tables there since I was eighteen. While I attended WSU, I mostly worked Thursday and Sunday nights. Now, that I was no longer in school, Danny had offered me the lunch shifts during the week. He knew I really wanted to start my career in photography, and gave me the weekends off.

Working the lunch shift also helped him out as he didn’t have to hire two new waitresses. Danny knew I didn’t want to be a barmaid for the rest of my life, so picking up shifts during the week gave me more money in my pocket. I didn’t want to be one of the college students who had to move back home with their parents. In my opinion, this was not an option. I had been living on my own since I’d started college. I liked being independent, not having a curfew, and also I didn’t want to worry my mom by coming at all hours of the night. I liked the “
outta sight, outta mind
” mentality and I think she did as well.