26
Camilla White
T he intensity of his glare prevents me from moving or even uttering a word. It pierces right through my soul, the surprise and suspiciousness. But I should be the one doubting his presence here.
There is a loud gasp on my side. It’s Rachel’s, but he still doesn’t look away with a sombre expression. Is he mad? At this point, with how unpredictable his temper is, I wouldn’t put it past him.
What should I do to break this uncomfortable moment? Greet him as if I didn’t know him? That’s impossible. I can pretend not to know him personally, but everyone knows who the Duke of Hawthorne is…
There is a tug on my arm, and I quickly look at Rachel, her eyes widening at me, letting me know she just realised who he is… My boss.
I shake my head, letting her know not to mention that detail. No one else knows, and they really don’t need to. As if she understood the assignment, she jumps into action by greeting him, giving me a couple of moments to breathe.
Her voice catches Vincent’s attention, breaking the stare-off for a few seconds with her side curtsey and sweet tone, “Your Grace, what a pleasure to meet you in person.”
Vincent eyes her up quickly, nods in acknowledgement, and mutters a, “Likewise” before turning his attention back to me.
Only when a sharp elbow hits my side do I realise how long we’ve been looking at each other. Everyone’s eyes are on the both of us, baffled. I am confused as well.
“Cami, huh?” He raises one eyebrow, making me gulp.
“Your Grace,” I give in, bowing my head slightly. “What an honour to meet you in person.”
He huffs and mutters another “Likewise”. For everyone else, it’s almost the same as he did to Rachel, but knowing him and his temper, I can detach the underlying notes of his voice—the annoyance, the jealousy.
I am so done tonight. Why do these situations keep happening?
Vincent turns his head to Oscar and Charlie, not giving me any other type of acknowledgement. It stings, but on the other hand, it is the only correct choice. To not let anyone else know we have ties binding us.
“Tell us, Charlie,” Vincent drawls. “How did Cami break your heart?”
The saltiness in his voice irks me. Once again, his jealousy and possessiveness are taking over. This is why I wanted to stop whatever this is and why we agreed he’d keep it under control. I guess he can’t.
And we can’t keep our distance either, no matter how hard we try.
“It’s a long story,” Charlie sighs, and from the corner of my eye, I see Vincent’s jaw twitch.
“Do tell. I have all night long,” he comments, laying back on the couch as if he’s making himself comfortable. “And I’m invested now.”
He looks at me momentarily before looking back at Charlie and beckoning him to talk.
This man is a knobhead.
“Excuse me,” I cut in, annoyed. “Are you all going to talk about me as if I’m not even in the room?”
“Oh? Do we have a spitfire here?” Oscar chuckles before patting Charlie’s back. “You sure know how to choose ‘em, Charlie-boy!”
They both smirk, making me blush. Thankfully, with how dark it is, it’s barely noticeable. Someone notices, though.
I squirm, trying to get rid of this feeling of being scrutinised by three men—or rather, by Vincent—but it’s no use. He’s watching me like a hawk, and I can see his eyes zeroing in on every slight movement my body does, studying it and analysing it.
Nonetheless, I still defend myself, “No, you have a woman in front of you who will not accept being talked about as if she were just a bug under your shoe.” I make a point of looking at Vincent before looking back at Oscar and Charlie. “Nobility or not.”
“Oh, shit. I see why you broke up now.” Oscar gasps. “We’re a little low on the hierarchy, so marrying commoners is not as much of an issue to us as it is to Vincent, but, girl…just by listening to you for the last five minutes, you wouldn’t adapt!”
What?
I wouldn’t adapt? I grew up in a manor and was partially raised by the sister of a duke. It’s one thing to adjust and another, a much different one, is to bow down to them regardless. Mrs Elizabeth taught me better than that.
“Yeah,” Charlie grumbles. “Exactly.”
“Oh, now I finally know why you broke up with me, then,” I snark back, feeling slightly offended.
“What?” Oscar straightens up. “He told me you broke up with him.”
Charlie looks down, embarrassed he has been caught in the lies.
“That’s a lie. But it’s fine. In the end, it was the best thing he could ever have done for the both of us.” Charlie’s eyes snap up, and he focuses on me as I continue, “We were young and didn’t know what love was. It would have never worked out anyway, hierarchy or not.”
He looks away, and I swear a bit of pain flashes through them just before he does. The moving lights of the club don’t allow me to read his expressions down to a T, but the proximity of the booth does give space for a little studying.
With a sigh, I look down at my water glass, grabbing it. It’s time to leave.
Rachel elbows me, and when I look at her questioningly, she bulges her eyes.
Unaware of what she’s trying to tell me, I take a sip of my cold water. If she’s trying to get me to peg down a little, I won’t. Call it liquor courage—even though I barely drank tonight—or after-hours courage, but after years of being reminded of my low place in society, this is the last place I wanted to hear about it.
There goes a night of fun and friends reconnecting.
Since the long silence turns awkward, I excuse myself, telling them I need to head to the restrooms again. I don’t—not really—but every excuse is good to leave them. That reminds me...I need one to get home right after that pointless bathroom visit.
This time around, I take the long walk, going around the dance floor instead of cutting right through the sea of people. Once I arrive in the restroom hallway, I can only place my hand on the doorknob before I am grabbed and pulled into another door right next to it.
I startle with a small scream before a strong hand covers it. The smell that fills my nostrils relaxes me right away.
Once he’s sure I am not screaming anymore, his hand moves, meeting the other one on my hips. Inside, it’s dark, and my eyes take a while to adjust, however, my brain doesn’t.
I know just by the familiar scent and touch that the person burying his nose into my neck is no other than Vincent Hawthorne.
“ Cami? ” His voice comes out rough, sharp, and bitter, letting me know how much he doesn’t like the nickname.
“Camilla,” I correct him.
Turning me around, he flushes our chests together. his hands wander dangerously lower, reach my bum, and tighten, squeezing my flesh. I gasp. As a response, my back arches towards him as his shortened breath rises from my neck to my ear.
“I would have appreciated knowing that your ex is my best friend’s little brother.”
His voice is low and menacing, worse than all the other times he threw a fit. It makes me as excited as it makes me hesitant about what his intentions are.
“I didn’t know,” I pant due to his lips grazing against my jawline. “Am I...not supposed...to be on my days...off? What are you doing here?”
“I missed you,” he grumbles.
The words that come out of his mouth, and the way he’s saying them, hit deep inside me, pulling at all the strings, all the ones that go from my heart downwards, towards my core.
“Vincent,” I sigh, feeling defeated.
My brain is a mess. Jumbled and conflicting thoughts keep me from saying anything else, and it only encourages him to bring his hands up while he backs me up against a wall.
The thud of the impact is muffled by the strong music that penetrates through the thin wall. And while he is being rough with his movements and touches, it doesn’t hurt.
What hurts instead is inside my body. My chest. My heart.
With every graze and squeeze, my skin tingles, and all rationality abandons me. All there is is Vincent, invading my personal space and spiking my blood pressure. One of his hands tangles itself in my hair at the back of my head, forcing me to look at him. It stings, and I moan in response.
The other hand plays in the middle of my chest, palm right over my heart while his fingers graze part of my collarbone and the base of my neck.
“Your heart is racing.” He rasps, breath hitting my mouth directly, and I moan at the sensuality in his voice. “Your body is so responsive to me. Was it like this with him?”
I tense, and my eyes snap open in bewilderment. His words wash over me like a bucket of freezing water, and I proceed to try to free myself from his hold.
Instead, he tightens it with one of his hands, snaking into the back of my neck and holding me still, forcing me to look at him. It still doesn’t hurt, but it’s strong enough to not let me move much.
“How dare you–”
“Little Milla,” his growl cuts off my hiss. “Did he ever make you feel like I do?”
When I look away, his hips press against mine, locking me against the wall, and the other hand that was holding me there travels to my jaw, forcing me to look at him once again.
“Answer me,” he orders.
“Is this what you came here for?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he grumbles, pressing his forehead against mine. “My temper’s long off the wagon. Do not test me.”
“Are you afraid your cock isn’t the only thing getting me off?” I hiss, angry.
He chuckles darkly, and his hand slides from the back of my neck to the front, squeezing the sides.
“Did he make your heart race this fast?” I skip a breath when the hand that had been grabbing my jaw now travels lower, the pads of his fingers gliding passed the top of my boobs before continuing its journey south.
“Did he make you shiver as much as I do?” He bends his head to kiss the spot right above my heart, and as if he had commanded it, I shiver in response to his touch.
“Did he make your thighs clench as hard as I do?” His nose skims my left shoulder before he bites it at the edge, and I swear my knees buckle, but the pressure of his hips against mine keeps me secured in place.
“Did he make your legs buckle this fast?” I gasp when that wandering hand reaches my thigh and starts travelling north again, bringing the edge of the dress up with it.
“ Vincent ,” I try to call him in a warning, but it comes out sounding like more of a moan. Still, I trap his hand in my clenched thighs as I desperately try to stay in control of the situation.
“Did he make you come as fast as I do?”
The thin layer of my flowy dress is bunched up on my lower belly, leaving me completely exposed to him. His calloused hand easily frees from my hold and keeps skimming up until it finds the apex of my thighs, caressing my mound through the underwear. My legs buckle, just as he predicted, but his other arm wraps around my waist before I can fall.
My panties are moved to the side just as two fingers slowly trace the line of my slit. It tickles slightly, and I bask in the soft sensation of his touch.
To hell with the voice of reason!
“Oh,” I moan, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and holding on as tight as I can.
This man knows my body like no other, knowing just the right spots to bend me to his will.
“Vincent…”
“That’s right,” he growls just as one finger enters me. “It’s me, isn’t it? I am the only one who can make you feel like this! I am the only one you can think of. And it’s only my name you call when it matters the most. It’s only me, isn’t it?”
The clarity that the anger was keeping just a few minutes ago is completely gone, overruled by the fog of lust. His fingers keep their slow-paced assault while I mindlessly nod in response to his words. It doesn’t matter how much he doesn’t deserve an answer from me. Every word he’s muttering against my skin is true.
“Words, little Milla . Or I’ll stop.”
“It’s you,” I pant. “Only you.”
There’s a low, grumbling sound coming deep from his chest. It’s animal-like, manly and oh-so sexy . His hand speeds up, chasing my high relentlessly.
Inside this dark room, the sounds from outside are drowned by our own. Our pants, moans, and groans are deafening. The rustling of the clothes, the grazing of skin, and the frenetic hands clawing at each other are all-consuming. An unusual balance where he’s not taking for himself but giving me so much at the same time.
“You drive me crazy, darling,” Vincent groans just before kissing me hard.
His hand keeps working me up. Three fingers are continuously coming in and out while his thumb sporadically circles my clit, bringing me closer and closer to heaven.
“Oh, god. I’m–”
“Come, little Milla.” His hand grabs my throat just as he forces me to look into his eyes. “Come all over my hand and moan my name. Show me how good I make you feel!”
My eyes roll back, and my mouth slacks just as the pressure at the bottom of my stomach explodes, releasing euphoria all over. I contract around his hand several times as I chant his name like a prayer.
Just as the high starts crashing down, Vincent stills with his fingers still inside of me, the both of us harshly panting with our foreheads pressed together. As serotonin dissipates and my senses slowly come back to me, I start to look around.
The storage room. Classy .
Is this all I am worth for him? There’s a voice deep inside my brain that keeps telling me, “ Yes .”
That I’ll never be good enough for him.
I wasn’t for Charlie, and he is not even that high in the rank. My foolish self keeps falling and falling into this black hole without a trace of light surrounding it.
The worst? I do it willingly.
Look where that brought me…Being fingered in a goddamn storage room, like the meaningless peasant that I am.
A wave of shame washes over me, and I quickly free myself from Vincent’s hold, putting my dress back in place and desperately trying to make myself presentable.
Let’s hope I don’t look as trashy as I feel.
I was only fingered, but it feels like I was fucked into oblivion. Into submission.
“Hey,” Vincent calls, but I ignore him, trying to arrange my cleavage. “Hey, Camilla,” he calls again. “What’s wrong?” Grabbing my elbow, he forces me to stop and look at him.
Like a grenade, I explode. “I am not a whore that you can finger or fuck around everywhere you want,” I snap. “If making me feel this disposable and trashy has been enough to feed that possessive ego of yours, congratulations.”
Vincent’s face morphs, and I can’t decipher if he’s hurt or offended. It looks like I just slapped him in the face, but at this point, I am way beyond being the bigger person out of the two. I’ve had enough.
That’s why I leave before he can react and head towards the booth. I stay just long enough to grab my belongings and hastily say goodbye to Rachel, Charlie, and Oscar. They eye me curiously but thankfully don’t question my sudden need to leave.
As I walk outside to grab a cab, my body shakes with embarrassment and humiliation.