Page 47 of Effortless

Not if the picture he was looking at was any indication.

Camilla had taken a shot from her painted red smile, and down her naked chest. She had pulled her black lace bralette down over her ribcage, and he could see the high-waist, skin-tight pencil skirt covering the crossed legs. Her tongue was peeking out through her grin, and the tip graced her upper lip.

Like a damn tease.

Pink, hard nipples with new studs in the barbells. A single diamond dangling from a thin chain around her delicate throat. A throat he really wished he was holding onto at the moment while he fucked her cunt, mouth … ass. Fuck, he didn’t really care as long as his dick was wet and inside Camilla.

Shit.

Yeah, he had gone there to that filthy place in his mind quick, fast, and in a real damn hurry. To be fair, he blamed her and this picture.

She hadn’t lied about the bob, either. Platinum blonde, still, but she had lost the pink fade. The bob ended an inch or so below her jaw line, and had a soft, beachy wave to it. The very tips of the strands still held a faded touch of pink, but it wasn’t as vibrant as it had been just two weeks earlier.

It still looked damned good.

Tom had the distinct feeling that Camilla could make any hairstyle look like something out of a runway show. He couldn’t help but ask, What are you going to do next?

Camilla’s reply was instant. That’s what you ask when I send you a picture like that?

Laughing under his breath, and entirely forgetting about his friend just a couple of feet away, Tom typed back, I was thinking about choking you while I fucked you, but the new hair had me curious. I like the new studs, by the way. The pink balls matches the hair a bit.

I was thinking of getting something else done—lower, you know?

Tom whistled, and typed back, How low?

Her reply came in fast again with, I’ve heard sucking or biting on a clit piercing feels like—

“What are you grinning about—whoa,” Lou said as he tipped Tom’s hand down and got a partial view of Camilla’s picture—only her legs given how many texts had come after the picture—and the texts.

Tom hadn’t been expecting that, as he’d been too lost in his conversation with Camilla to pay any mind to his friend. Instantly, he jerked his arm back and got the phone out of Lou’s sight. “No way, man. Fuck off.”

Lou’s eyes flew wide, and he tossed his hands up in surrender. “Shit, sorry. You were grinning like some kind of fool, and I just thought—”

He pointed at Lou, saying, “Not your business, okay.”

“I got it, Tom, no worries.”

Tom’s phone buzzed again, but he didn’t take the message. Instead, he shoved the phone in his pocket and decided to wait for a bit when he didn’t have somebody looking over his shoulder. Even if that somebody was a friend. Camilla hadn’t sent that picture for anybody else to be looking at, and Tom wasn’t going to break her confidence in that way.

He meant to say something else to his friend, but the raising of the warehouse’s bay doors took his attention to the incoming crew members.

Actually, just two.

Two that should have been with one other guy for the heist of a truck full of high end goods. The shit sold well on the streets in markets, vendors, and other places. Like a black market right out in the open for stolen product.

“Where’s Joshua?” Tom asked.

The two fools looked between each other with wary gazes. Tom didn’t see an incoming truck, either.

“And where’s the fucking shit you guys were supposed to have here already?”

“Something happened,” one of the two—Dale—said.

“We had to hightail it out of there. Josh got left behind,” the other one—Terry—put in.

“Behind,” Tom echoed. “What’s that fucking mean, huh?”

“The blue line came out in force, Skip.”