“No more.”
I smile, chest expanding. “Yes, no more.”
Camden sits back, easing me up and pulling my top over my head. Then he works my pants down my hips while I undo my bra.
Within seconds, the only thing between us is the thin fabric of our underwear.
On his knees, he stares down at me like he’s refamiliarizing himself with every inch of my body.
I’m too focused on him to appreciate the feral look in his eye. The man is so beautiful. So achingly perfect. And so mine.
“I don’t even know where to start,” he tells me.
“I do.” Winking, I lean up and tug on his boxers.
When his hard cock bobs free, a moan slips from my lips.
Chuckling, he takes himself in his hand and tugs softly. “Missed this, baby girl?”
“You know I did.” I lick my lips. “Can I suck your cock…Daddy?” I peer up at him, hoping the nickname is still okay.
When he lets out a feral growl, I relax.
“Yes, baby girl,” he groans. “Make me feel good.”
I keep my eyes on him as he guides himself to my lips. Then I press a kiss to the tip. “Like this?”
“Fuck,” he tips his head back, then tucks his chin, focus pinned on me. “You know I need more than that.”
I smile. “Maybe like this?” I lick up his shaft, relishing the warmth of him.
Growling, he clutches my throat, just tight enough to hold me in place.
“No more games. Open your mouth and let Daddy fuck your throat.”
Obediently, I relax my jaw and look up at him, silently giving him permission.
In one rough thrust, he slides between my lips. When his piercing hits the back of my throat, I gag, and he breaks into a wicked grin. “That’s my good girl. You know I love it when you make those sounds.”
He rolls his hips at a quick pace, and I focus on breathing through my nose, taking as much of him as I can.
Before long, his grip on my neck loosens and he caresses my jaw. “My beautiful little whore loves this, doesn’t she?”
I nod, tears dripping down my face and lungs heaving for air.
I do. I love how we are together. Love being this way with him. Love that nothing could steal this from us. Our pasts don’t matter any longer. Neither do my parents or the bet or Calliope’s Column. Even the interaction at the strip club holds no weight. Nothing we have has been ruined because this is special. We’re special.
He picks up the pace again, for just a moment, and when I whimper around him, he pulls back.
“Fuck,” he groans. “You can’t make those sounds.”
I pant. “Why?”
“Because you’ll make me come, and I refuse to do that until I’m buried deep inside you.”
“By all means.” I fall back against the pillows with a grin.
“Oh no, baby girl,” he chides. “You’re going to sit on my face first.”
