Story of My Life (Story Lake #1)

39. Penis appreciation

39

PENIS APPRECIATION

HAZEL

So next time you have the urge to do something stupid and annoying, you’re gonna talk to me about it first, right ?” I panted and squeezed Cam’s shoulders in a death grip. It was hard to concentrate, but I wasn’t willing to let either of us orgasm before he’d officially learned his lesson.

I was perched on the edge of the kitchen island while the man, the myth, the troublemaker, occupied all the space between my spread thighs. In a satisfying move sure to be studied for decades by women trying to prove points to their partners, I’d locked my legs around his hips, restricting his movements so that neither of us was particularly satisfied.

He groaned. “Jesus, Trouble. Are you edging me right now?”

“You’re damn right I am. Is it working?” I demanded through gritted teeth.

He let out a strangled groan. “I swear to you on all the baby pigs in the world, I’ll come to you before I make any more announcements about the state of our relationship.”

I could have played hard to get, but the orgasms just weren’t as plentiful from the moral high ground. “Good enough for me.” My thighs sprang open like a vagina-in-a-box.

But instead of fully seating himself in me, Cam pulled out and plucked me off the island. “You’re gonna pay for that,” he promised as his teeth grazed my neck.

A thrill raced up my spine. He was beautiful. Not that he’d think it was a compliment. Like some ancient god striding off the pages of Norse mythology to invade my body.

He backed me into the brick wall between the two front windows.

That’s about all I had time to notice because Cam had me up against those chilly bricks in the span of a heartbeat. Our mouths battled each other.

His hands didn’t wander my body, they conquered it.

“I fucking love this skirt,” he said, as one hand delved between my legs, dragging the fabric of my underwear to the side with PhD-level skill.

He pressed the heel of his hand against my sex and thrust two fingers inside me.

I did not succeed in muffling my cry of ecstasy. The pig snuffled from its pen in the corner, and I clamped my lips together. My knees gave out, and he pressed me harder against the brick.

I wanted him with a fierceness that both terrified and delighted me. I needed him to feel the same jagged edge of desire.

We groaned into each other’s mouths when I gripped his cock. This time it was Cam’s knees that buckled. I timed my strokes with the thrusts of his slick fingers, and within seconds we were both panting.

But I wanted more from him. Still gripping his erection, I put a hand to his chest and spun us around so his back was to the wall.

“What are you up to, Trouble?” he asked huskily with another deep pump into my core.

“Driving you as crazy as you drive me,” I said, stepping out of his grasp.

My thighs were damp with arousal, and my entire body was trembling for release. But when I saw the glittery look in Cam’s narrowed eyes as I lowered myself to my knees, I stopped worrying.

“Wait,” he ordered.

I pouted from my position between his legs as his hard-on twitched in my hand. “I don’t think you actually mean that,” I said, demonstrating with a squeeze.

He hissed in a breath between his teeth and shrugged out of his T-shirt. “Put it under your knees,” he ordered.

Even with his cock inches from my mouth, Campbell Bishop was a gentleman. Sort of.

I bunched up the shirt and shoved it between my knees and the floor.

“Better?” he asked.

I answered in the most appropriate way I could think of. By taking his erection to the back of my throat without warning.

“Goddammit, Hazel, baby.” His fist bashed into the brick at his back, and if his impressive genitalia hadn’t been occupying my mouth, I would have smiled triumphantly.

He let me play and taste, suck and slide, while his jaw got tighter and tighter. His control was fraying, and I was winning. I hummed my approval, which apparently pushed him over the edge.

He fisted a hand in my hair, wrapping my ponytail around it. Using his grip, he guided my speed as he began to fuck my mouth. I hummed again, longer this time, and was rewarded with a warm burst of precome.

I was going to write the best blow-job scene of my career right after I got done giving the best blow job of my life, I decided.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hissed.

I was the heroine of head. The badass of BJs. The oracle of oral.

Cam stilled my head, holding me in place. His cock pulsed against my tongue and tonsils. “Fuck, Hazel. I need to be inside you like this.”

“Lie wha?” I asked indelicately, with my mouth full. My mother would have been horrified.

“Nothing between us. I need to feel you, baby.”

My vagina did an exuberant cartwheel. I’d written moments like this, but I’d never lived one before. Even in marriage, I’d been a stickler for precautions. Cam was taking the whole book-boyfriend thing to a new level.

“Yesh.”

“Yes?” he repeated.

I nodded.

He gave a victorious pump of his hips and groaned. Another burst of salty heat hit the back of my throat. I squeezed my thighs together to relieve some of the pressure that was building inside me. But nothing helped.

“Goddammit,” he muttered and dragged me off his erection with a pop.

I didn’t have enough time to be embarrassed because he was hauling me to my feet, boosting me up, and wrapping my legs around his waist.

My back hit the brick and nearly knocked the wind out of me. But I didn’t care because Cam was lining up that swollen crown to go where I needed it most.

“We good?” he rasped.

“So fucking good.” I was nodding so hard, my head hit the wall. “Ow. Also, birth control. I’m on…stuff.” I couldn’t think properly, let alone speak coherent words. Not with the scorching-hot tip of the most perfect penis in the world ready to invade.

I closed my eyes, afraid of what he would see in them if I kept them open.

“Open your eyes and look at me, baby.”

Damn it.

I opened one eye. He was looking at me through half-mast lashes with a hunger I’d never seen directed at me before. My other eye popped open.

“Good girl,” he growled in approval.

And then he drove his bare cock inside me and I lost my damn mind.

It was some biological switch that had flipped. I was programmed to orgasm on Cam’s naked cock. That was the only reason I could come up with for the instantaneous orgasm that rolled through me like a tidal wave.

I cried out as I came.

His eyes went hard with triumph as he pumped into me rough and fast, controlling my orgasm with his sheer will. I watched them go dark with fire, saw the muscles of his neck cord. He stared into the depths of my real-life soul, as he gripped my hips and slammed himself home one last time. On a strangled shout, he released the first jet of come inside me.

It was scorching hot, branding me in a place no one had ever touched before. The visceral grunt vibrated his chest against mine, but still he continued to fuck. Each hard, jerky thrust rewarded me with a new, dizzying burst of semen.

I was coming again or still. As if my body were forcing his to give over everything. Our mouths fused, our breath became one, as we rode out the climax together.

“We good?”

The man had insisted on driving me home. I had insisted that since he was here, he could hang the TV in my bedroom. Which was how I ended up naked in bed, watching Bridgerton with Cam and a pint of ice cream he’d shoplifted from his own store.

My lady parts were still echoing from the parade of orgasms he’d marched through my body, and there was a baby pig snoring in the corner of my room. All in all, I considered it an excellent way to spend an evening.

“Uh-huh,” I said around a mouthful of Rocky Road. “So good.”

I passed the carton and spoon over. “We can watch something else,” I offered, not really meaning it.

He shrugged. “Eh. I like the music. And the queen’s weird hair.”

That seemed like high praise coming from Campbell Bishop.

“So should we talk about the fact that your truck is in my driveway and it’s ten thirty at night and you brought a toothbrush?”

He took his time sliding the spoon from his lips. “Not unless you want to.”

“The whole town is going to know by morning.”

“Whole town already knows.” He dropped his phone in my lap.

The screen was open to a group text message.

Larry: Cammy’s doubling down.

It included a screenshot of Garland’s latest post on Neighborly.

IntrepidReporterGuy:

Looks like Story Lake’s newest lovebirds are nesting.

“Oh my God. Your mother just texted the group and said, ‘Your brother’s always in a better mood when he’s sexually satisfied.’ Now all your siblings are sending vomit emojis.”

“It’s your fault for being all attractive and single and interested in how I swing a hammer. I’m basically the home renovation version of a pool boy,” Cam said.

“Ugh,” I groaned. “When will the interest start to die down? I’m more comfortable being the interested one, not the interesting one.”

Cam ruffled my hair. “When one of my brothers gets caught sneaking around with someone,” he predicted.

I stole the ice cream back. “Can I fix Levi up with Zoey? He’ll need a good agent if he’s any good at writing.”

“First of all, they’d make a terrible couple. Zoey needs someone who can take care of her without her knowing they’re taking care of her. Secondly, don’t start playing matchmaker in real life just because you’re gonna need inspiration for book two.”

I gasped. “I would never .”

“Said the woman who propositioned me with research. Now we’re naked in bed, eating ice cream, watching this viscount guy pretend his honor is more important than the situation in his pants.”

“They can’t just start a relationship. It would have ramifications that could ruin everything for both their families,” I insisted.

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens. Even to the good ones.”

There was something about the way Cam said the words that burrowed into my brain. It was flippant, but there was pain there. Raw and real.

“That’s not what a romance novelist likes to hear,” I said, going for flippant.

“And how did your foray into happily ever after go?”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. My ‘one’ was a dud. But that doesn’t mean that everyone else’s ‘one’ is.”

He gave me a long, cool look. “A dud ? Trouble, the fuckface spent years shitting on your work and took potshots at you publicly in a magazine and to your publisher. And all you can call him is a dud?”

“You’re ignoring my excellent point about other relationships not being terrible.”

“And you’re ignoring my excellenter point about your ex being a two-legged swine.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” I reached for my bedside notebook to write down two-legged swine.

“Tell me,” Cam demanded, rolling on top of me and pinning my arms over my head.

I snort-laughed. “You and your brothers were ready to drive to his apartment and beat him up when he said sort of mean things about me in a magazine. I’m not giving you any more ammunition when we could be having more sex instead.” I wiggled my hips suggestively under him and reveled when his eyes went dark.

“You’re insatiable,” he said, brushing my bangs back from my face.

“You’re the one with the power tool between his legs.”

He rolled his eyes. “I can tell you’re tired. Your penis descriptions start to go downhill.”

“Descriptions, yes. But my appreciation of said penis never flags.”

He dipped his head and dropped a kiss to my nose. It was so sweet, so unexpected, I panicked and decided to ruin the moment.

“Cam?”

“Hmm?”

“What happened to Laura’s husband?”

He sighed, but I felt his muscles tense against me as if warding off some invisible enemy.

“I–I was going to ask her or Google it, but I thought…”

“He died,” Cam said, climbing off me and flipping onto his back.

“Oh, God. That’s awful.”

“Yeah,” he said flatly.

I was literally biting my tongue to keep from asking another question. This wasn’t fodder for a character on the page. This was real life heartbreak, and it wasn’t my business.

Cam pulled me against him and tucked my head into his shoulder. “He was running with her when they were hit. Young driver. Distracted. The sun was…whatever. Miller tried to push Laura out of the way. He died before they made it to the hospital.”

A tear snaked down my cheek to Cam’s warm, hard chest. “Were you close?”

“He was my best friend since elementary school. Except for when I found out he and Laura were sneaking around behind my back and we beat the shit out of each other every day for a week our senior year. I loved him. We all did.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said again.

“He was a good guy. Good dad. Good husband. Good friend. Too bad the good can’t last forever.”

I listened to the steady thump of Cam’s heart and wished I hadn’t asked the question, hadn’t dug deeper.