14
Camilla White
A fter leaving the brothers to their own time together, I kept myself busy for the remainder of the day. Once everything is finished properly, I walk to the kitchen and look at the watch. It’s way past ten in the evening.
No wonder no one is around anymore. At least, not a living soul is seen or heard in this giant house. Not even the duke.
It’s late, and I am so tired that the only thing I can think of is my fluffy, cosy bed. Especially after not having slept last night.
The last stretch from the kitchen to my bedroom feels like torture, with my body close to shutting down due to exhaustion. Opening the door, I walk inside. With one hand on the doorknob, the other is already on my button-up, ready to open it up.
However, before I can shut the door, something blocks it. Confused, I look down to see what’s wrong, only to find an expensive shoe wedged between the door and the frame.
Then it opens slightly, and the light movement is enough to make me let go of the door and stumble back a couple of steps.
“ Sweet Camilla ,” Vincent’s husky voice chills my bones while it warms my skin. “And here I thought you’d be meeting me upstairs.”
“Your Grace, you didn’t say you wanted me to–”
“Let’s make one thing clear then,” the duke closes the door behind him and locks it. Then, he slowly takes a step forward in my direction. His movements resemble the way a lion stalks its prey—steady but slowly. “I’d have you in my bed every single night if possible.”
His arm stretches to me, and the pad of his index traces my cheek. It lowers, following my jawline until it reaches my chin, where it continues toward my neck and ends up on my collarbone. That act alone leaves a strong trail of goosebumps behind, putting my nerve endings on edge.
His hungry eyes jump between mine and the trails his finger is tracing.
The drowsiness from the exhaustion lifts upon his touch, bringing my body back to life, making me forget completely that I am dishevelled with huge, dark circles under my eyes. Yet, he still looks at me like a starved animal.
What does he see in me?
“But—”
“Night has fallen, sweet girl.” A couple of buttons are popped open, and I do nothing to stop him. I want it, too. “It’s time to take things to my bed. Now, be a good girl and turn around so I can unzip this skirt.”
“Your Grace,” I gasp at his crudeness. “I spent the entire day working, and I barely slept last night. I–” I stop momentarily at the sight of his cocky smirk.
Bastard.
“Speaking of, I expected to wake up next to a spent woman. What happened?” His strong hands grab my hips and pull me roughly towards him, bringing us chest to chest.
A bit of sassiness rises to the surface, and I muster the courage to tease him while reminding him of our predicament.
“I am sure Your Grace wouldn’t want other employees to see the housekeeper leave your bedroom in the morning with the same crumpled clothes from the previous day.” I cock an eyebrow, and his face softens in a moment of sobriety.
“At least, next time, let me know before you leave.” His breath hits me as his face comes closer to mine. “Now, do as you’re told and turn around.”
I do but not before telling him, “Can it be quick tonight? I’m exhausted.”
“I can never do quick,” he mumbles to the back of my neck, pressing himself against me. “But we can shorten it tonight. Why are you feeling so tired? You looked so amused when talking to my brother…”
Oh? Is the duke bothered by the fact that his brother gave me a little attention?
“He is my boss’s brother. Shouldn’t I politely keep him company? Especially if he requested so?” I answer firmly.
The slight edge to the tone of his voice shows me he is unbothered, even if the way his hands keep caressing my whole body shows no more roughness than normal.
“Yes,” he sighs, the warm breath of air hitting my ear. “But Edgar is a bit of a…tease—a dangerous one at that.”
“He seemed nice,” I admit. “A bit of a gossiper but harmless.”
“Oh.” He chuckles. “He is anything but harmless. So please, beware of his inappropriate antics.” His head tilts, amusement swirling in his eyes.
When I don’t answer, he walks us closer to the wall and turns my head to the side, forcing me to face him.
“Got it?” he insists.
Instead of agreeing, I answer, “I imagine His Grace was being polite and wanted some company while he waited for you. Also, how could anyone refuse him? Imagine the fear of being fired for being rude to the duke’s brother.”
He chuckles wholeheartedly .
Turning me around, he presses our chests together while my back gently meets the wall, then snakes his hand around the back of my neck, with a mischievous glint shining through his irises. Then, he mutters, “I’d give them a raise, not fire them.”
As he does, I gasp at the feeling of his other hand grazing up my right thigh, quickly reaching the edge of my pencil skirt. Slowly but surely, his touch forces it up to my waist.
“Be rude to him all you want; I’ll let you get away with it,” he admits, before nudging my nose with his. “Now…”
With his hands attached to my waist, he gently guides me away from the wall, walking us to the area where a chest of drawers is. There, he turns me around once again and asks, “Are you still too tired for me? Do you want me to leave?”
It was said in a raspy whisper, making me shiver.
“I don’t want you to leave,” I answer as my eyes roll back upon the feeling of his hand on my waist. “But I am tired.”
“Does that mean you’re not wet? Want me to try again tomorrow?”
As expected, one of his hands grazes my body, heading down towards where my skirt has risen.
“No,” I answer, lost in his touch.
“No as in, you’re not? Or no as in…tomorrow?”
The correct answer would be yes. Because it’s true, but something comes over me, making me shake my head negatively. “As in, I’m not.”
A big part of me is excited and wants to see what happens if I get a rise out of him, wondering what he will do.
He hums before taunting me, “Is that so?” The zip hits the bottom, and when he lets go of it, the skirt pools at my feet. “So, if my hand happens to travel to your core just for confirmation, you won’t be wet for me?”
I’m not sure if I am enjoying this game or if I am just a masochist, but I shake my head again.
“If I find that you’re lying to me , little Milla , there will be consequences. Are you ready for that?”
“Yes,” I whimper when both hands are tracing circles at the top of my thighs, teasing my arousal.
Something is telling me that tonight is going to be nothing like last night.
“Remember that my finesse expired last night,” he reminds me, and I gulp just as one of those wandering hands finds my bare bum and squeezes it. “If I do find you wet, I’ll bend you over and fuck you senseless.”
An expectant sigh leaves my lips, and my body buzzes in anticipation of what will happen tonight instead. If last night he was being just mild, I wonder how amazing it will be tonight.
There’s a light graze against my panties, and my legs buckle. Vincent’s arm quickly comes around my waist, holding me up. Not even waiting for me to recover, his finger quickly moves the flimsy fabric of my knickers to the side, tracing the straight line of my damp slit.
Oh god.
“I thought you were tired?” His words come out in a sarcastic chuckle. “Not enough to resist me, it seems. Now, will you be a good girl and take me, Camilla?”
“Yes,” I choke out the confession.
“I am in such a foul mood, little Milla . Do you know why?” The hand that had been holding me by the waist travels up to my chest, passing over my chest before settling on the front of my neck. The other one, though, stays put on my core, massaging and continuing its slow, torturous movement along my slit.
“The first thing is the fact that I woke up alone in a cold bed.”
“Oh!” I gasp when his index finds my clit, pressing hard. “But I—”
“Did I say you could interrupt me?” His hand squeezes my neck lightly in warning.
It’s not enough to cut off my air supply, but it does increase the adrenaline coursing through my veins. I suspected he was a dominant man in bed, but I am sure this is just a glimpse of the man he can become behind closed doors. And it turns me on so much.
“As if that weren’t enough, I see my brother all over you.” His words come out in a low growl right next to my ear.
“Bu—” I am cut short, startled by the intrusion of two of his fingers inside me.
“And as if that wasn’t enough…you weren’t coming to see me tonight.”
Slow and controlled movements. In and out, keeping me so crazed that I can’t even focus on his words anymore. This is pure torture as he drives me crazy with pleasure but not enough to push me over the edge—yet.
I’m buzzing, my body feels like it is on fire, and my eyes keep rolling to the back of my head with every thrust and flick of his fingers. His taut chest and abs flex against my back, making the moment even more erotic.
He is building me up quickly, and I am sure a release will follow soon.
“It disappoints me to no end, little Milla . I thought we were equally drawn to each other.”
“Please,” I beg.
“You want to come?” he pants in my ear. “You want me to make you come?”
“Yes.”
The weight and warmth of his body pressed against mine disappears suddenly, as well as his hands. I can’t help but whine in response to the cold that invades my body with the distance between our bodies.
“Wha—”
“Then get down on your knees,” he orders.
My eyes widen at his bluntness, and yet, more fluid runs down my core.
“But, Vincent. I–”
“ Little Milla.” His voice is deep and assertive, showing his authority. “I feel neglected, and if you want to have an orgasm tonight, you need to do as I say. Understood?”
“Y-yes,” I stammer out.
“Good. Now, on your knees. I want those plump lips around my cock before I bend you over this dresser and fuck you.”
The same hand that had turned my back to him turns me around again. Now facing each other, he pushes my shoulders, gently forcing me onto my knees. I don’t put up a fight.
He is dominant and demanding—something I never thought I would like, but I do. Never mind the fact that I don’t know what the hell I am doing. I want this, and I want him.
The wooden floor digs into my bare knees, but neither my body nor mind protests. The excitement of having the duke unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants before freeing his erection in front of me makes me forget everything else.
Seeing it right in front of my face, rock-hard, brings my insecurities back to life. Can I even do this? How do I even start?
My face must have given me away because his big hand reaches out to hold my chin up, forcing me to look at him. A soft expression is etched onto his face, a huge contrast from the harsh one just a few moments ago.
“You don’t have to do this if you don’t—”
“I do,” I cut him off. “I just don’t know how to do it...”
I can’t help but blush at the admission.
Vincent looks surprised for just a moment before returning to a neutral expression and saying, “I’ll guide you through it.”
With a shy nod and courage I didn’t know I had, I softly wrap my hand around his erect dick. My eyes glance upwards, underneath my eyelashes, and what stuns me the most is his expression. His eyes are shut tightly, and his mouth is slightly agape.
Peeking at his hands above my head, I see them holding the dresser's edge so tightly his knuckles are white.
“Stroke it, Milla,” Vincent pants.
Like the good girl he wants me to be, my hand caresses it slowly, up to his head, then down again. I repeat my movements and slowly increase the speed, sometimes twisting my hand around his girth. Low moans and grunts come out of his mouth constantly.
He doesn’t stop me or make any motion for me to change what I am doing, and his vocals are a clear sign of his enjoyment. It gives me more confidence.
That’s when I open my mouth and take his glistening head inside. Taking him slowly, inch by inch, I feel how hard he is, even if his veiny skin is soft. I stop when I reach my limit, filling my mouth completely.
I do it once more, and one of his hands flies to my head, gripping my scalp and stopping me from moving forward.
“Jesus Christ, Camilla,” he pants. “You’ll make me look bad if you keep this up.”
Opening my eyes, I look up and watch him.
Completely surrendered to the moment, Vincent looks vulnerable . He is letting himself be vulnerable with me, and it gives me power.
The power to know I affect him this much. That I can make him lose control.
I dart my tongue around it as much as the lack of space allows me, and his hips thrust automatically forward, hitting deep, right where my throat begins, making me gag.
He retreats with wide eyes, exclaiming, “Shit. I’m sorry!”
He enjoyed it.
That’s why his hips had that reflex movement. To let him know it’s alright, I moan and move forward again.
My hand finds his, the one gripping my hair. Covering the back of it with my own, I tighten my hold, forcing him to tighten, too. The burn on my scalp is welcome as I move faster, taking him in as much as I can.
He freezes for a second, but I barely register, focusing on getting him there.
“Camilla,” Vincent pants, and I can’t help but moan at how breathless he sounds saying my name. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to come soon.”
His words are enough to make me increase the intensity again. The burning on my head from the few pulls of his tight grip is welcomed, heightening my pleasure.
This time, I hollow my cheeks, sucking harder. My breaths are short and through my nose due to his size, but I don’t care. The desire of watching him fall apart is much greater.
Just then, his hips thrust harshly, hitting deep once again. I try not to let my gag reflex take the best of me as his dick twitches inside my mouth and hot spurts of semen slide down my throat while he grunts.
“Fuck,” he growls before bracing himself on top of the dresser in short and fast breaths. “Are you sure you’re not that experienced?” he asks breathlessly, making me blush.