Chapter 29 #2
He shrugs. “Of course. Nothing could keep me away now that I know I can get my nails painted and a face mask.”
She smacks his forearm lightly.
“In all seriousness, Kukla, of course I’ll bring you again. Anything for you, my Duchess.” He takes her hand and kisses her knuckles.
My phone buzzes, and I read the text then glance at Camile. “Rook wants to know if he can come over.”
Camile’s cheeks turn a fetching shade of pink as she glances at her friend, but she nods. “If you guys really do have to go, then I see no reason Rook can’t come over.”
“Well, we’ve got to wait around a few minutes, at least,” Mackenzie says with a cheeky grin. “After all, I need to see Rook for myself, right?”
I reply, telling Rook to haul ass over here, and a few minutes later, there’s a banging on the door. When I lead him into the living room, Mackenzie looks him over and smiles at Camile.
“Girl, I can see why you like these two. We’ll leave you guys to it… whatever that may be.” She laughs to herself and gathers up her stuff, putting it all back in the bag she brought over and zipping it up for Kirill to carry.
We say our goodbyes, Camile and Mackenzie hugging and both wiping away tears.
And then the door shuts, and it’s just me, Camile, and Rook.
The air between us seems to grow and stretch with something unnamed. We’ve had this dynamic a few times, so why does it feel as if this carries more weight tonight?
Camile leads the way back to the living room, and once there, she shocks me by pushing Rook first, and then me, onto the couch. From her smile and hooded eyes, I can tell she’s a little tipsy.
“I’ve got something for you both,” she says in a singsong voice.
Rook and I exchange a glance, half interest, half concern. What’s our girl up to?
She grabs a remote and selects a song. I recognize Umbrella, by Rhianna. What the hell?
Then Camile starts to dance. There’s no hint of shyness. Instead, she swings her hips and sways in front of us to the sexy beat, and I wonder if she’s drunker than I thought. She did have a few vodka shots.
Stopping her movement for a moment, she unzips her jeans and pushes them down her legs, and then strips her top off, throwing it to one side. This leaves her in just a lacy bra and matching panties. Deep burgundy, they suit her coloring, and my mouth waters as she resumes dancing in the lingerie.
Even though she said this dance is for us, she seems kind of distracted. She’s not actually paying attention to us. She’s glancing around the room, gazing up into the corners, as though she expects to see someone else there.
Camile keeps moving her hips and swaying to the beat, before lifting her arms above her head and wiggling her entire body in a way that has my cock raging.
Her nipples are pointed bullets, pushing at the lace in the bra, and I bet they’re all sensitive as the coarse material rubs against them.
“Camile…” Rook shifts in his seat. “What are you doing?”
What the fuck? Why is he questioning this? It’s heaven. I nudge him, warning him to shut up, but he shoots me an annoyed glare.
“You don’t have to do this,” he says softly.
“I want to.” She walks over to him and bends forward, taking his face in her hands. “Otherwise, we let them win!”
Wait, did she dance for those fuckers? The men who took her. Shit, Rook is right, she doesn’t have to do this. She’s had vodka. What if this is going too far and she’ll have some sort of breakdown after?
“Why don’t we go and snuggle together?” I suggest.
“I don’t want to snuggle.” There’s venom in her tone. “I’m not some broken thing. I get to choose now, Ace. Me. I choose to take back my body, and my sexuality, too.”
She turns away from me, and with her legs parted, bends at the waist until she’s touching the floor with her hands.
“Flexible,” I mutter with appreciation.
She straightens and tosses me a wink over her shoulder. “Mackenzie taught me some yoga.”
When she unhooks her bra, I wonder why she’s facing away from us. Her face is angled to the far corner of the room, and I don’t know what she’s doing, but then she says loudly, “You could always come and join us, you know?”
It hits me. Has Ghost still got the cameras working? Goddamn him. Also, does he have sound?
I see it then, on top of a light fitting. A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it red flash every few seconds. The cameras. Ghost.
Her show isn’t only for us. Is he watching now?
I shiver a little at the thought. Those words he said to me sometimes come to mind for no reason. I can be your god if you want, Ace.
“Camile, you’re playing with fire,” I warn her. “The dude has issues.”
I pray he can’t hear what we’re saying or I’m fucked.
“What? Which dude?” Rook is oblivious to her games.
She turns around and her cheeks are flushed, her pink nipples so fucking hard, and oh God, a damp patch darkens the front of her panties. I can’t wait for her to finish her striptease, so I grab her waist, pulling her down so she straddles me on the couch.
Still holding her firmly around the waist, I lift her, so she’s gripping the back of the couch, her pussy at face height. Leaning forward, I nuzzle at her wet panties, inhaling her scent and moaning.
“Oh, God, Ace, please.” She is begging, and I’m not sure what for, but I lick a line over her clit, through the lace, and she gasps, pressing her pussy against my face.
My dick is rock hard, and it is even hotter knowing Ghost might be watching.
It’s a bit scary, too, because I wasn’t joking when I said the guy had issues.
Ghost keeps to himself for very good reasons, and we’re playing with fire by trying to drag him into this game, but I’ve always liked to walk on the wild side. So, why change now?
When Camile is shaking and her legs are straining in the position she’s in, I lift her off me and sit her on the edge of the couch. Grabbing her panties, I rip them apart at the hips until they are two broken shreds of material and nothing more.
“Fuck.” Rook covers his cock with his palm and presses against it.
Feeling like causing a little mayhem, I move to one side as I push her legs apart, knowing she’ll be seen by Ghost, if he is indeed watching.
Even if he doesn’t look until later, I want to give the guy a good show.
If Camile’s glance past my shoulder toward the camera and desperate whimper are anything to go by, so does she.