53. Cam
Fuck, she’s everything I ever wanted.
Look at her—freshly fucking ruined and still looks like she could go for round two.
“What about you?”
She asks, rubbing the marks that have imprinted in her wrists from the rope.
“Me what?”
“Well, you’re not going to finish yourself off, are you?”
“Maybe later,” I lie.
As much as I’ve relished every second of this, my focus snaps back to the mission.
Too many lives are on the line. I can’t afford distractions, no matter how intoxicating they feel. Even if I’ve just spent the better part of an hour utterly distracted.
But what was I supposed to do?
She was about to walk away—convinced I’d choose Kyla over her. And honestly? I still don’t think she realises what she means to me.
She’s a diamond in the rough, and only an idiot would let her go now.
“Do you want some help with that later?”
She really is ready to go again.
“We’ll see,”
I lie again, the words smooth enough to pass for truth.
But I know damn well I’ll spend the rest of the night locked away in my office, mapping out a rescue plan for Kyla.
She deserves the life that was ripped away from her. And I’ll find a way to give it back. But it doesn’t mean I have to lose Nell to do it.
Except Nell doesn’t budge.
She leans in slowly, deliberately, her mouth brushing mine—soft, magnetic, pulling me back into her orbit like gravity rewired itself around her.
God, she’s going to ruin me.
She’s going to be the death of me.
And I think I might die smiling.
“I need to work,”
I mutter, voice low, almost pleading.
But she doesn’t move the way I ask, instead, she folds herself into me, bracketing a thigh either side of my hips, her cum soaking my trousers.
The problem is, I don’t want to move her now. I want to drown in this bedroom, lost in nothing but fucking, eating, and sleeping with this woman.
Her hips shift with lazy precision, grinding against me in a way that makes my cock throb.
Don’t cum, I tell myself—like that’s ever been easy with her. It’s humiliating how close I am, and I’m not even inside her yet.
“I’m not done with you,”
she says, all false command—like she runs the room.
If I wanted to, I could tie her up again and fuck her senseless. But I don’t have time for that, there’s work, responsibilities, the real world tugging—
Christ.
She lifts without warning, lining herself up before I can process. Then she’s grinding down, hips rocking with a rhythm so exact it shatters thought.
“You still don’t have time?” she asks.
But she already knows the answer.
Her lips hover inches from mine, taunting. But restraint isn’t my strong suit—not tonight.
I slide a hand through the back of her hair and clench, dragging her head to the side to bare the curve of her neck.
“You’re living up to the name, trouble,”
I murmur against her skin, my teeth scraping over goosebumps.
“Now beg. Tell me how badly you want to be wrecked.”
I tighten my grip, my other hand halting her hips, a firm reminder of who’s in control here.
“Please, stalker boy… fuck my fucking brains out.”
“Such a good girl,”
I growl, driving into her just enough to steal the breath from her lips—but she won’t be taking the reins. Not tonight.
I grab her right leg and swing it over my body, twisting her until she’s facing away, still full of me. Then I lift. We rise together, one motion, and I slam her down into the bed, folding her forward until her chest kisses the mattress, her hands splayed beside her head.
“If your hands move, you get spanked. Understood?”
She nods—but that’s not good enough. Her moan slips out as I drive into her, deep and unforgiving, until I’m pressing against her cervix.
“Words, Nell,”
I growl.
“Use your fucking words.”
“I understand,”
she gasps.
“Good.”
My hand spans her back, broad and possessive. When I press down, she arches beautifully, folding into my control. Her palms stay glued to the sheets, but her body moves with mine, like she knows exactly what I want—and she’s eager to give it.
The first few thrusts catch her off guard, and instinctively she reaches out, grasping for anything to anchor herself.
“What did I say, Nell?”
I snap, catching her eyes beneath those absurdly long lashes.
“I’m sorry, I was just—”
“No excuses.”
I align my palm with her ass, and with a sharp, unforgiving thwack, it connects. The sting lingers in my hand—I know she felt that.
She whimpers, eyes squeezed shut, but she doesn’t pull away.
She just clenches the sheets like they’re her salvation.
“Do it again?”
she breathes, voice silky with need—it takes me a beat to register her words.
I don’t hesitate.
I line my hand over the heat of the mark I last left and bring it down, hard. The slap echoes, sharp and deliberate.
Her eyes snap wide. Her lips part. Another moan spills from her like it was dragged out.
“You like the sting, don’t you, trouble?”
I taunt, voice low.
“You like it when I paint your pretty ass crimson?”
“Yes,”
she breathes, grinding back into me, chasing her own climax with stunning precision.
Christ, this woman is something else.
My mind is a storm of the ways I want to ruin her—every delicious form of pain she’ll twist into pleasure. She’s perfect. And she wants this just as fiercely as I do.
I spread her ass, needing to see the way she clings to me, greedy and wet with every thrust. She’s so damn tight I have to slow, pacing myself before the edge tips too fast.
I’ve got shit waiting for me outside this room—but right now? Right now, I want this to last. I want every second stretched until it burns.
She wraps around me like she was made for me. Every curve, every freckle—mine to explore. Mine to memorise.
“Fuck me, Cam,”
she moans louder now, breaking protocol as she rises, arms slipping around my neck.
Her nipples are flushed and firm, begging for touch.
“You really don’t know how to follow rules, do you?”
I growl, dragging my hands up her stomach, cupping her breasts. I roll her hardened nipples between my fingers, tugging on them until her moans turn shameless and raw.
This time, I don’t use my hand.
With one swift motion, I slide my undone belt free and double it over, the leather whispering as I push her back down and drag the buckle-end down her spine, slow and deliberate.
She shivers beneath the touch, and I guide the strap lower, over the curve of her ass, before pressing her down into the mattress again.
“This might sting,”
I warn, voice low and taut with promise.
I drive into her, hard and deep—enough to steal the breath from her lungs. At the same time, the belt cracks down across her ass, the leather bite fierce and unforgiving.
Her entire body seizes—tightens—especially where she grips my cock like it’s the only thing anchoring her to earth.
“Ah!”
she cries, collapsing into the mattress, her breath ragged and broken.
“Fuck, that feels good.”
I bring the belt down again, this time from the opposite angle. Bright red welts bloom across her skin like fire trails.
Before she can recover, I slam into her again—fast, merciless. Her legs give out completely, her body held up by my grip alone.
My marionette. Mine to claim. Mine to wreck.
“This,”
I growl, fingers digging into her hips until the skin blanches beneath my hold.
“is mine. Your body belongs to me.”
“Yes!”
she gasps—but whether it’s agreement or surrender to ecstasy, I can’t tell anymore.
Her body crumples beneath me, and the warm rush of her release spills over, coating my skin, dripping down my balls. That was what I’ve been waiting for.
I follow, burying myself deep as my cock jerks with each wave of release, emptying everything into her, filling her to the brim.
When I finally pull out, the mixture of our climax seeps down her trembling thighs in glistening streaks. I press two fingers to her swollen slit, plugging the drip, coaxing another ragged moan from her lips.
She’s spent—chest heaving into the sheets, face down and breathless. And I’m not far behind. My own breathing is shallow, my shirt soaked through with sweat, clinging to my skin.
But before I retreat, I withdraw my fingers and lean in close—hovering over her freshly wrecked body, inhaling the heady scent of sex and salt.
When she lifts her gaze to meet mine, dazed and drunk on endorphins, I command, “Open.”
There’s no hesitation. She flattens her tongue and parts her lips, receptive and pliant. I press my cum-slicked fingers to her mouth and watch her eyes flare wide.
But there’s no recoil.
She seals her lips around my knuckles and sucks—slow, greedy, swirling her tongue like she knows exactly what I want from her.
“Now I really do need to get to work, trouble,”
I say with a smirk.
She’ll sleep off the high—boneless and blissed out—while I slip back into the shadows where I’m needed.
The uglier part of my world waits, demanding, relentless.
But knowing she’s in my bed, tangled in my sheets and lost in the afterglow… it makes the descent a little easier.