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With a smirk curling on my lips, I climb between her parted legs and use my thumbs to spread her glistening pussy. “Squeeze your walls together,” I instruct before I vacuum seal my mouth over her entrance, sucking our mixture of cum from her still pulsing pussy. Camille clenches and pushes, forcing my semen out.
With a mouthful of cum, I climb up the bed beside her and lean down to her face. She’s waiting just as I told her to, with her mouth wide open. She arches an eyebrow and sticks out her tongue, a look that’s both curious and waiting. Slowly I move a hand down her flushed, sweaty body and shove three fingers inside her without warning, massaging her G-spot while my thumb circles her overly sensitive clit.
Smirking, I spit my cum and saliva onto her waiting tongue. “Swallow it all,” I demand once my mouth is empty.
Like the good girl she is, she obeys and swallows what I give her.
To my surprise, the dirty girl sticks her tongue back out for more. I spit on her tongue again, but before she can gulp it down, I crash my mouth against hers, swallowing her moans as my hand coaxes a final orgasm from her body.
Camille breaths heavily against my mouth, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her heavy eyelids struggling to open each time she blinks. I’ve taken all her energy, she’s exhausted, and I can’t wait to sleep with her in my arms.
I press a final kiss on her parted lips before climbing off the bed. I stand at the foot of the bed to admire my now sleeping girl. Her dark hair is messy and spread out beneath her over the white pillowcase, her legs still parted with her beautiful pussy on display for me and only me. She’s in my bed with my cum still dripping from her pussy, and my cum all over her mouth. I take one final moment to look at her before going to the bathroom to get a warm, wet washcloth to clean her.
When I return, I carefully wipe her face, chest and between her legs. She doesn’t stir. She stays peacefully asleep. Once I have her cleaned up, I return the washcloth to the bathroom and then pull down the covers on the bed, shifting Camille slightly so her naked body is under the sheets with me. She doesn’t move until I turn the light out. Then to my surprise, she scoots closer to me and pulls my arm around her waist with a contented sigh.
We’re both lying on our sides, spooning. She fits so perfectly against me that each time she moves, her ass wiggles against my cock, but I ignore the fact she’s getting me hard again. I have all the time in the world to fuck my girl; I’m not letting her get away this time.
I fucked up eleven years ago. I should’ve never suggested we spend time apart. I know that she doesn’t regret it because of the things she got to experience, and sometimes I don’t either. But fuck, I missed her. Being with her now feels right. It feels like coming home after being gone for so fucking long.
She is my home, and I’ve been homesick for far too long. I’m ready to be home.
No matter what I must do, no matter what consequence I face, I will get the girl.
Camille will be mine.
TWENTY-SIX
NOW
Camille
I wake up with a familiar ache between my legs and guilt on my conscience. The second my eyes open, it takes me two seconds to realize I’m still in Dean’s hotel room, and the body heat beside me and morning erection pressing into my bottom tell me that we’re both still in bed naked. His warm flesh feels like heaven against me. But as good as it feels, it feels wrong.
I’m in bed with a man that isn’t my husband. I had sex with a man that isn’t my husband. That fact weighs heavily on my chest.
Despite telling Declan I want a divorce, I’m still legally married, which means I cheated on my husband… for the second time.
“Good morning,” he mumbles behind me, his voice raspy from sleep.
“Morning, I need to get going. I have work.” I attempt to sit up only for his hand to grip my hip and pull me closer to his body, thrusting his erection against my ass crack.
“Not yet.” He trails gentle kisses up my arm and shoulder until he reaches my jawline, then he kisses it slowly, nuzzling his face into the crook of my neck. With a sigh, I relish in the feeling of his hands on my body and allow his hand to snake around my body and between my legs to my cunt.
“Dean, I need to go. Last night… it was wrong.”
“If it’s wrong, why did it feel so right?”
“Stop, we can’t do this. You know that we can’t.”
“But you want to.” I don’t deny it. I can’t deny it. Not when his fingers can feel the proof of the effect he has on my body.
Dean grips my leg and raises it, moving it back to rest across his hip. This position exposes me to him, and he wastes no time slipping two thick fingers inside me to explore my arousal. “Your wet pussy tells me that you do want this. Wantme.” What does he expect me to say? Of course, he’s turning me on. Anyone would be turned on in this situation.
Dean curls his fingers inside me, and once he finds my G-spot, he massages it. My body betrays me by coming on his hand too quickly.
Before I can protest, he guides his cock inside of my still pulsing channel from behind, using the same two fingers that were just inside of me to strum my sensitive clit.
“I dream of waking up next to you and taking you just like this every single morning,” he rasps in my ear, biting and sucking my earlobe.
