Rules Are Made To Be Broken

By Black Butterfly

Successful Atlanta engineer, Camille Kelly, lived life according to her rules. And she thought she was well on her way to having the perfect family life she planned. But after her messy divorce, she decides she is dire need of a short term distraction. Maybe a little uninhibited passion would be the key. She just needed the right man who would follow her rules and walk away when her desires were filled and his time was up.

Professional Barber Nick Charles was much more complex and connected than Camille ever cared to know. And there is no way he would ever agree to her request for a sexual fling, especially according to her rules. Instead, he hatches a plan of his own that will push her limits, and make her break every last one of them. To him life was about living and sometimes....Rules are made to be broken.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Reign Publications LLC
• Release date: Sep 15, 2015
• ISBN: 9780990842705

Black Butterfly

Writing is a calling that pulls at your soul. No matter how much you put it on a shelf and try to ignore it, there it is. Whispering your name, telling you stories, causing daydreams and adding soundtracks and story lines to everyday scenes. When you don't write, your world is off balance and lacks that spark. To answer the call, I spent years blogging and guest blogging online. I eventually became a featured writer on Naked with Socks' Wet Wednesdays as well as Planet Zane using the pen name Thicke. My debut novel will be published in Fall 2015. Please enjoy my bold and sexy written pleasures...

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Published by Reign Publications, LLC

©Copyright 2015 Black Butterfly for Reign Publications, LLC

All rights reserved.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

It is not meant to depict, portray or represent any particular person or events.

Acknowledgements:

Cover Design: D’Vine Designs

Photo Obtained from Shutterstock.com

Edited by: Christopher Cervelloni of Blue Square Editing

Bridgette Grant

Gayle Jackson

http://www.iamblackbutterfly.com/

Thank you for your support. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Thank You

Where do I even begin?

I thank God for everything. Period.

He has blessed me with life, a family, good friends, experiences and so much more. More than this wretch can ever thank him for. His grace and his mercy are endless and all encompassing. I pray that God keeps my imagination fresh and continues to allow me to express myself through creativity. I want to thank my family and friends that have been patient with me. All the late night writing and proof reading. And re-reading. Oh let’s not forget the nagging! Because without your faith in me and my stories, they would still be on my thumb drive and never seeing the light of day. Thank you for having faith in me even when I doubted myself. I also want to thank the fans I gained when I wrote short stories for Planet Zane and NakedWithSocksOn’s Wet Wednesdays. You boosted my confidence, provided feedback and encouraged me to keep going. I want to thank every author that ever welcomed me into the pages of their work. From Shakespeare Sonnets to gritty street lit and everywhere in between. It was all inspiration as I followed each of your journeys.

This is just the beginning….

Thank You!

Rules

Are Made To Be

Broken

By

Black Butterfly

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 1

Sweat danced on his skin like tiny diamonds sparkling against black satin. Camille hungrily chased every bead with her tongue and enjoyed the saltiness. His moan and low rumbling laugh seemed to vibrate between her thighs as she straddled him. The heat that emanated between them grew more intense. She could feel his hands slowly press and glide up her backside until he grabbed her hips and guided her to his awaiting hard shaft. She was slick and wet with passion and more than ready to meet his inferno like heat. The fire consumed her as she slid down and welcomed him in. She gasped for air. He whispered, Easy baby we’ve got forever.

His hand caressed her face as she slowed her decent. The diamond and platinum wedding band shined brightly in the dark room and felt cold against her skin. Her eyes fixated on the band but her lover thrust deep inside her and she closed her eyes and started to float away as her moans filled the air.

Camille felt like she was falling but her hand gripped the metal bench. She slowly opened her eyes and glanced at the women that seemed to be staring her way. She hoped the moan in her dream didn’t escape her mouth and embarrass her in the midst of her harsh reality. Her dream lover sometimes appeared at the worst time. She stood so she could shake off the sleepiness and reacquaint herself with her surroundings. Camille never planned or expected to celebrate her thirty-fifth birthday in a jail cell. She looked down at her copper-colored heels and tried to relax her feet, but the pain was not going away. It was a sure sign that the Manolo Blahniks on her feet were definitely not meant to be 12-hour shoes. Especially not standing on concrete floors. Camille’s normally relaxed composure was slipping, but not just from the mystery man in her dream. Someone in her vicinity was smacking. Loudly. For the last damn hour. That was the main reason Camille closed her eyes earlier. She hoped to tune the sound out but drifted off and ended up embarrassed.

Damn, just STOP!

It reminded her of the sound a small calf makes while nursing. She remembered that sound vividly from many summers on her grandparents’ farm. The perfect combination of a slurp and a smack. Nothing in that jail cell could taste that damn good.

But what should she expect? It was Fulton County Jail on a Friday night. Hoes to the left and crazies to the right. And right in the midst of it all there was at least one who could care less about manners. She knew she was being silly, because the sound of someone smacking was the least of her troubles. Camille finally decided to sit down again to rest her feet and calm her nerves. Besides, it didn’t look like anyone was coming to her rescue anytime soon. It was pure relief as she slipped her foot from the beautiful copper bondage chamber. Her mind began to wander back to the events of the night as she rubbed her foot. The sound of the smacking calf got closer as she replaced her shoe.

Hey, who you work for?

Excuse me? Camille tried to focus on the face of the woman, but the harsh light from the halogen fixture made it almost impossible. All she could tell was this person was abusing the hell out of the gum in her mouth.

Who house you work for?

Camille smiled. House? I’m sorry.

The smack monster sat down next to Camille.

Yeah house. That ain’t no street walking dress. You on your own?

Camille looked down at her knee length copper sequined dress. She knew the dress was a little racy with the deep V open back and spaghetti straps but she didn’t look like a hooker. At least she didn’t think so.

Well maybe a high priced one.

Camille laughed, Oh! I’m sorry. I’m not here for that.

The pale fair skinned girl smiled and gave the gum a well-deserved break. Her baby face was crowned with a fire engine red weave. Camille watched as she adjusted her red and black body con dress that barely reached mid-thigh. The cheap black stilettos finished the ensemble. The worn heels and scuffmarks let Camille know the shoes were on their last days.

What they got you for this time of night if you wasn’t hooking?

Camille stared at the innocent face. She couldn’t help but wonder how she got caught up. She’d seen stories on the news about sex trafficking and the young girls that fell victim to pimps, but she had never been face to face with such a baby-faced vixen. The southern drawl that laced her words as she spoke let Camille know that she wasn’t from anywhere near Atlanta.

What’s your name?

They call me Red, can’t you tell? The girl laughed and Camille smiled.

What’s your name? Red continued the gnashing of the gum against her teeth.

Glad to meet you Red. My name is Camille. My husband says I tried to kill him.

Red’s gum smacking stopped and her mouth hung open to reveal her tongue ring. Camille wondered if that thing hurt.

"Like that show Snapped? Fuckin’ yeah! Red yelled out to the other cellmates in the holding cell. She tried to kill a nigga y’all!"

None of them seemed interested. A couple of them slid away from Camille as if to say they couldn’t be associated with her kind. Camille started to wonder if she was a fool magnet. Her innate ability to connect with people sometimes made her wish she had a resting bitch face, so no one would approach her again.

Girl quiet that. I didn’t try to kill him. And why are you so loud? You are too pretty to be so vulgar.

Camille knew her way around curse words well, but it took a lot to trigger her to use them. Camille watched Red lean back on the wall as if she was startled.

Pretty? Red let out a small chuckle. Puh-lease.

Camille studied the girl’s face and smiled. You may need some sun to perk up that skin, but yes, pretty.

I hear that when a nigga want something. But thanks. That means a lot coming from you. A woman in Manolo’s has class n’ taste. Like Sex and the City! That’s what my daddy says.

You still talk to your father? Does he know what you are doing?

Red laughed. No not my father. My daddy, my pimp, my man.

Camille was surprised. This was all new to her. Oh. Your pimp. So does he call you his daughter or his girl if he’s your daddy?

Naw I’m one of his bitches. All my wife in laws is his bitches. Like a family. I’m not low ranking either. I make paper. Trained the last fish. Red almost looked proud.

Camille touched her temple and knew she didn’t want to continue this conversation. The terminology and the degradation were too much.

How did you end up in this mess?

Red’s smile softened. You tell me how you tried to kill that nigga of yours and I’ll tell you my story.

Camille hesitated for a moment and wondered what Red’s angle was. She studied her face again and watched Red as she continued to try and pull the bottom of her dress to a more reasonable length.

Camille nodded. Deal. Just stop saying the N word okay?

Red’s face lit up as she turned her body to face Camille and scooted closer like she was a kid in a candy store. She was excited to hear the juicy details. Deal!

≈

Nick ran around his bedroom in the dark trying to find his cordless phone. All he knew was it was 2 a.m. and someone was dead or in jail. He prayed to God nobody was dead. He knew it better not be Damon calling from jail again. If it was, Damon was going stay there until his court date. He only went to jail over petty bull that he should have walked away from. Nick saw the beeping light coming from under his bed and he lay on the floor to reach it.

Hang up now Damon. I’m not your personal bail bondsman.

Mr. Nick! You gotta help me get my Auntie out of jail! They took her to Fulton County on Rice Street! Please don’t let my Auntie become a lesbo!

Nick wanted to laugh. Who is this?

It’s me Mr. Nick, Kesha! Kesha Douglass, your stylist! Who the hell else! Wake up!

Nick jumped up from the floor. He felt an odd sick feeling in his stomach. He only knew of one woman that Kesha called Auntie.

Key. Repeat what you just said. I know I didn’t hear what I thought.

You heard me Mr. Nick! My Auntie Mill is locked up! What do I need to do to get her out?

Nick sat down on his bed and tried to get himself together. He couldn’t fathom why Camille would be in jail. Camille Kelly was the woman that haunted his dreams for the past three and a half years. She had the face of a goddess and a body that could make a blind man even try to look back at it. They played their innocent flirting game every Friday since her niece started doing hair in his shop.

Camille Kelly.

Camille Wooooo Kelly as Nick liked to call her. He could still remember the first time he saw her as she walked by him at a Hawks game. The click of her four inch stiletto heeled brown leather boots against the arena steps made Nick turn his attention to her. But the form-fitting golden slacks and chocolate brown off shoulder sweater left him gob smacked and speechless. She turned to look at him as if she knew he was staring and she smiled.

She gave him a breathy, Hello as she continued her walk to her seat.

Nick couldn’t stop watching her and stood up to make his move. As soon as Nick reached the aisle, Cornell Kelly trotted down the steps and sat down beside her. He would later learn that she was Cornell’s wife. The hug and lingering kiss made Nick’s short walk of shame back to his chair sheer torture because his friends watched and laughed like there was no tomorrow. He thought the man upstairs was punishing him when she showed up at CC’s less than two weeks later to get her hair done. The more she came to the shop the friendlier their conversations became. She would jump right in whenever there was an interesting topic. She was smart, classy and still real. Most people would look at her with her designer clothes and perfect hair and wonder what she was doing in a shop on Campbellton Road. Better known as the center of Ben Hill or the SWATS and considered by most, the hood. But Nick could tell that a part of her needed and enjoyed that connection. It was probably something about it that made her feel comfortable and at home. The labels on her back read Donna Karan, Saint John and Tracy Reese. But they were not the entire persona of Camille. That was probably the main reason she approached Nick about letting her niece rent a chair in the shop. Camille explained that Kesha was fresh out of beauty school and was moving to Atlanta to get away from her controlling and cult-like family. It didn’t even take Nick long to consider her request. He quickly rotated half of the stylists around to give Kesha the chair in front of his. Everyone else thought it was because Nick could watch the new stylist and coach her. But the real reason was because Camille had a standing appointment every Friday and that chair would allow him a bird’s eye view of one of God’s masterpiece, Camille Douglass Kelly. He could at least look even if he couldn’t touch.

Now Nick had seen lots of beautiful women that were considered fine. There was hood fine. The kind of fine where the body made up for the face like K Cole. There was dime piece fine. The kind of woman with a nice face and body, like Megan Good. There was stripper booty fine like Nicki Minaj or a Kardashian…no explanation necessary. There was refined fine. Classy, almost demure like Sanaa and or Gabby.

And then there was praise you father… Glo-raaay fine. Sculpted by the man upstairs himself and mixed with a little refined fine. This type of woman knows how to dress that body so well that even a faithful man might feel an extra palpitation.

Nick was confident enough that he knew he could get any of them. All it took was eye contact with a slight invasion of the woman’s personal space so she could admire his cocoa colored skin, the low smolder of his voice, and his flashing smile. Once they were pulled in by his eyes, wit and strong jaw line (thanks to his mother), it would be only a matter of time before panties were in his hand. But once he saw Camille. The game changed. She wasn’t even available but Nick felt like something in him told him to get ready. Get ready for the possibility. And he took heed.

Nick was pretty discreet about who he dated. He wasn’t a womanizer by any means, he just never saw going back down that road to you may now kiss your bride after he dated a woman for any length of time. But Camille Kelly was supposed to be Camille Charles.

His heart and mind told him every week she stepped into the shop with her sexy voice.

Hello Mr. Charles.

His body told him too the first time he had to help Kesha. She was backed up with her clients and he decided to help out by washing Camille’s hair. She laughed at him and stared up at him with those Bambi eyes as they talked. Nick was so lost in all things Camille that he just knew his penis put a crack in the side of the ceramic wash basin.

He loved to see her swing her fresh hairdo in the mirror. Her natural reddish brown hair color made her look exotic as it framed her face of glowing honey colored skin.

Lawd and she smelled like…...

Mr. Nick! Are you sleep? Wake UP! Waa-ake UP!

Kesha’s yelling reminded him of Spike Lee’s School Daze and he started to laugh. He didn’t realize how long he had been sitting there thinking about Camille.

Key, stop yelling. I’m still here. Why didn’t you call her husband? He is your uncle. That’s his wife.

Nick heard a sigh. They think she tried to kill him.

Nick dropped the phone and jumped up to grab his jeans from the chair and yanked a sweatshirt from his drawer. He felt a strange sense of happiness.

Is he dead? I can’t be happy if this man is dead, can I?

Nick picked the phone up from the floor. Key! Is he dead?

No, but he sure wishes he was.

Nick laughed. He couldn’t wait to hear the details. Meet me at Krispy Kreme in the West End and I’ll take it from there.

Kesha screamed with delight. Thank you Mr. Nick! Thank you so much! I’ll see you there in ten minutes.

Nick grabbed his cell phone and keys and ran smiling from ear to ear out of his back door. Cornell’s lazy ass must have finally been more than Camille could bear. Maybe his rumored drug use or affairs were true. Either way, Camille Kelly was fed up and Nick Charles couldn’t wait to be first in line after she got her divorce.

≈

Bam! Does that mean you are set? I think that means you are set! Camille leaned across the table and gave a high five to her partner Red.

None of the women knew how she did it but she managed to talk the guard into getting them several decks of cards. Once daylight started to stream in through the few small and high windows, they transferred her and Red into the main jail. It wasn’t quite general population but if she didn’t get out soon that’s probably where she would be headed. She had to do something to keep her mind off of where she was. Smack dab in the middle of an episode of Orange is the New Black. The jumpsuit and questionable shoes touching her body were bad enough. She refused to give her mind over to the situation. So she found herself with Red doing a little light flirting with the guard. Camille’s own nervousness about being in jail worked in her favor as the guard gobbled up the help me routine. Red was more hands on with the touching of the guards tie and shoulder. But the guard kept eyeing Camille and Red backed her up.

Somebody is going to get you out of here. Soon!

She said that affirmation over and over for the last ten hours but she was still there. The guard told her it might be Monday before she goes in front of a judge unless they changed her charge. Attempted Murder.

The sorry bastard!

Camille! You better deal these cards. The natives are restless. Red tapped on the table to snap her partner out of her daydream.

Camille inhaled and was quickly reminded where she was. The rank smell of old fish lingered in the air. She hated to think of what or where that smell was coming from. She looked over to her left and saw Nadine licking her lips. Camille tasted a bit of throw up in her own mouth. When the time came for them to head to their cells for lights out, she needed to fake an asthma attack or something. Otherwise she would be fighting for her life to keep Nadine off her. She could still hear her voice when they opened the cell door to show her where she would sleep.

You brought me a tasty one Sarge. Real nice. Nadine sounded like she smoked for forty years but couldn’t have been more than thirty years old. Camille shivered at the thought. She needed to avoid alone time with the poster child for lung cancer at all cost. But her body was getting tired. She hadn’t slept in more than thirty hours and she didn’t know how much more she could stand.

Camille dealt the cards and smiled at Red. She was hoping they would put them in a cell together so they could keep talking and she would have someone that wasn’t trying to get in her pants. In the last few hours she had grown fond of Red. She was a small town girl with big city dreams just like Camille was when she came to Atlanta. The only difference was Camille came to Atlanta to go to college and Red came to be with a man. Red’s boyfriend left their hometown of Moultrie and promised he would send for her when he got stable. So when the ticket came she thought everything was going as planned. What she didn’t know was that her boyfriend was hooked on meth and promised the dealer a girl who could help him work off his debt. Red slept with the dude thinking the one time with him would be enough. But a week later her boyfriend was nowhere to be found and the drug dealer said he would let her stay with him until she got on her feet. Of course it wasn’t for free and before she knew it she was turning tricks to eat. One John beat her up bad when he realized she was a renegade and didn’t have a pimp. That was the final turn of events that led her to choose a pimp and join his house. When Camille told her that she didn’t understand why she just didn’t go home, Red said at least in Atlanta she got paid for what her step daddy was taking for free. Camille had her own past demons and didn’t grow up in the best conditions, but at least being molested wasn’t one. Behind the bad weave and occupation there was resilience in Red that she admired. And she hoped to God that Red didn’t have to go back to those streets.

We are on fire! Get it up! Next victim. Red leaned across the table and joined hands with her partner. You must be my good luck charm.

I am baby girl. I am! Camille looked and saw the guard smiling at her like there was no tomorrow. She saw him rub his hand across the imprint of his penis on his tight polyester khaki pants. Camille’s eyes almost shot out of her head.

Red! That guard! The one I flirted with to get the cards. He just rubbed his…

I told you that Nig… that fool was gonna want something in return. Red was trying her best to clean up her language.

What am I going to do? I can’t worry about him and Nadine. Somebody PLEASE come get me! Camille’s tough exterior was breaking for all to see.

Red saw the distress in Camille’s face. We can always start a fight or something?

Camille couldn’t do anything but laugh. She didn’t know if Red was serious but the option was looking good.

Will you two pretty bitches deal?

Camille glared at the woman sitting to her right. The wide scar alongside her mouth was fresh.

How’d you get that scar?

The woman turned her face to Camille. I wouldn’t deal the damn cards!

Camille swallowed hard and quickly shuffled the cards.

I’m too cute to be all scarred up.

Camille Kelly!

Camille and Red looked at each other.

Camille Kelly report to the guard station! Your attorney is here!

Camille and Red jumped up at the same time and screamed. They embraced like two squealing teenaged girls and said their goodbye’s as Camille ran off to report to the guard.

Red sat down and picked up the remainder of the stack to deal.

Alright I need a new partner because I’m hot! If yo ass can’t play don’t sit down! Scarface over here will cut you! Make it snappy!

≈

Nick and Kesha waited in the hall while Camille finished up with her lawyer. Nick called in so many favors from clients and family friends that he didn’t know if he would have any favors left if he ever needed them. Luckily, the charge had been downgraded to assault by the time the report was filed. Cornell’s stomach pump and