Camille #3
Camille’s fists close on the comforter, bunching it in her grip.
I lower my head and follow the commands of her body, licking straight up her center.
She nearly flies off the bed with that. I press a palm to her stomach and hold her down as I lick again and find the sensitive bundle of nerves that coaxes several moans from her lips.
My tongue discovers the rhythm Camille likes, slow at first, and then faster.
I repeat it over and over again. She runs a hand through my hair and whispers my name while I get lost in the feel of her.
“More,” Camille begs.
I slip two fingers into her. She gasps.
“You taste fucking incredible.” I work my fingers, watching the way her legs open even wider for me.
I could stay like this forever, tasting Camille.
She arches, her body on full display, a hand flying to her mouth to quiet her moans as I increase the pace.
“Don’t,” I say. “I want to hear you.”
She lets her hand fall back to the bed. I smile against her warmth and give her what she wants until Camille is moaning and moving against me, too. As soon as my fingers curl inside her, hitting that special spot, I feel her begin to tremble and clench.
With a need so strong I can barely stand it, I watch her orgasm hit, feeling what I’ve done to her, how wet she is for me.
“God, Dawson!” She shakes and whimpers, and it isn’t until she pushes at my head, saying, “too sensitive” that I finally stop.
When I wring out every bit of her pleasure, she collapses deep into the sheets. I rise above her, licking the remains of her from my lips.
“Jesus, Camille,” I groan.
She is every fantasy come to life. She’s a dream made real, beckoning me closer.
I marvel at the way the pulse in her throat spikes as I lay a kiss on it, as though it’s about to burst free from her skin.
My gaze crawls over her. All of her. From her puckered breasts down to the legs she’s not shy about letting me fit between.
I bury my hands in her wild curls while my mouth moves over her soft skin.
“I knew it’d be like this between us,” I admit. “Fucking explosive.”
I don’t stop anywhere, laying kisses like a trail to follow later. I want to memorize Camille, but I can’t stand the strain of needing her so badly.
“You’re perfect,” she murmurs. Then, as though just remembering something, her eyes go big. “I don’t have protection.”
Her confession makes me grin. She wasn’t expecting to hook up with men in Darlington.
“My wallet,” I tell her a moment before removing myself from the bed. I return seconds later, and tear open the foil, rolling the condom on.
Camille watches with rapt attention, her mouth slightly parted. The mattress dips as I place myself above her again, the entirety of my body covering hers. Then finally, I do what I’ve been dying to for far too long.
I sink deeply into Camille.
The sensation makes curses fly from my mouth as she releases a low, guttural moan. Camille softly begs things of me in a throaty tone. My need builds, sending us into an immediate deep, hungry pace.
“You feel amazing,” I say on a raspy breath, repositioning to lift her hips and gain deeper leverage. I glance down to where we’re connected and feel my whole body react to the sight. “Look at you.”
It’s been a while for me. Maybe that’s why Camille feels so damn good.
Or maybe it’s because I’ve wanted her for a long time.
I can see just enough creamy skin in the dim firelight that bounces off the hall walls to tell me she’s more beautiful now than ever, lost in passion.
There’s a scar that spans her side. I don’t know what hurt her, but I’ll do all I can to bring her only pleasure.
I let my defenses down so she can witness everything in my eyes. How she drives me absolutely wild. The fathomless longing I feel. The way I wish for nothing else but to be here, in this moment.
I can hear the slippery noises we make as I slide in and out of her. She’s utterly drenched. I move my thumb over her mouth, tracing her lips, tugging on the bottom one until it pops free.
She is almost there. I sense it in her trembling body and quickened breaths. I promise her release with my hands, my mouth, my movements. She moans, and then a violent orgasm hits.
“Dawson!” My name flies from her lips.
I bite out a curse, grab her hips, and slam into her with everything I have. I had a feeling this would happen eventually, didn’t I? It was inevitable, her and I, even though it goes against every rule and restraint I’ve erected.
Camille was going to end up in my bed. Or me in hers.
It was only a matter of time.
I want to take all the time in the world—minutes and hours—in her, tasting her, pleasing her. I want days and nights with Camille. But right now, I don’t think I could slow down even if my life depended on it. I can’t help our hungry pace. This is what being inside of Camille does to me.
I sink impossibly deeper, ravaging her, knowing my own orgasm is close. Camille has only just stopped trembling, but I feel her tighten around me again.
Yes.
I can’t control a single, coherent thought anymore. She is my undoing. Warmth coils inside me, drawing me up tight until I’m there, too, lost in the bliss of both of our releases.
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