Chapter 11 No Strings
No strings
Kissing her is heaven. I could kiss Camille for the rest of my life and die a happy man.
She pulls back and looks at me. Her eyes serious.
“Lucas, I need to lay down one rule,” her voice is steady, but her eyes give her away.
There’s nervousness there. “I’m not ready for anything serious.
I just got out of something… toxic. This?
It needs to be no strings. Just fun. Okay?
” She pauses, like she’s daring me to argue.
“I need to feel good again. In my body. In my skin. I want you. But this,” she gestures between us, “has to be just sex. Okay?”
Normally, if any other woman said this to me, I’d be cheering.
But with Camille? Something in me bristles.
Just sex? She makes it sound so simple, like what we have isn’t already tangled up in something deeper.
I’m no stranger to a one-night stand or casual sex—it’s not like I even want anything more—but none of those other woman have made me feel the way she does.
Still, I’m a man with needs. And I need her right now.
So I nod. Because I’ll take her any way I can get her.
“Okay. Whatever you need.” I agree. My voice light, despite the rush of emotions inside.
We start kissing again, the heat between us undeniable. Her hands find their way to my chest, tugging me closer, pulling me deeper into the kiss as though she needs me just as much as I need her.
Our breaths mix in the space between us, shallow and fast. The world fades, shrinking to the space between her lips and mine.
My hand slides down her stomach, hesitating at the edge of her underwear. I pause, eyes searching hers for confirmation. She nods—small and breathless. A soft sound escapes her throat.
“Yes. Yes, please,” she whispers, her eyes dark with desire. I can feel the electricity crackling between us. The tension is almost unbearable.
I slip my hand inside, letting my fingers glide over her slick heat. Slowly, I circle her clit, keeping my touch light as our mouths find each other again.
She moans into my kiss, hips twitching, breath heavy and unrestrained.
“More.” She pants. I slide one finger down and ease it inside her, curling it gently as my thumb replaces it on her clit. She gasps, her head falling back slightly.
“You’re so wet,” I murmur against her neck, kissing the sensitive skin just below her jaw. “Is all this for me?”
She’s trembling now, struggling to hold herself up. I guide her gently back onto the edge of the pool table. Her thighs part for me instinctively. Her skin is warm and flushed under my fingertips. Between kisses and ragged breaths, I press my forehead to hers.
“Can I taste you?” I ask, voice thick with want. “Please, Angel.”
She nods quickly, swallowing hard. “Yes.”
I drop to my knees like a man worshiping. Sliding her panties down her legs, I watch as she unbuttons her skirt and tosses it aside.
I put a hand on her stomach and gently lay her down with it, then put two fingers back inside her, hooking them up against her g-spot and move them in a come hither motion, she cries out.
I need to taste her so badly. So I remove my fingers from inside her, dipping my head and running my tongue through her folds, tasting her for the first time.
She’s fucking delicious.
I groan against her as I start to move, my tongue working in and out of her, my fingers rubbing her clit and my other hand spreading her open for me.
Her moans are unfiltered, raw.
“Lucas—” she breathes, and it sounds like a plea.
She’s withering underneath me, panting and moaning. I glance up and she’s arching her back, her chest heaving, her hands in my hair.
She’s close. So close. And fuck, seeing her like this, all undone and trembling under my mouth. It has me fighting for control of my own release.
“Let go, baby,” I murmur against her. “Come for me.”
She cries out, hips bucking, thighs clenching around my head.
She erupts on my tongue.
“Lucas, fuck!” She screams as she pulls my hair.