AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He keeps kissing me, his mouth only leaving mine to trail along my neck, my collarbone, the curve of my breasts.
Then he rolls over to the side, getting up while lifting his pants back into place, like he wasn't railing me moments ago. I hate the fact that he looks so fucking perfect. The just-fucked hair's working for him, while I am positive I look how I feel: dirty, sweaty, exhausted.
"The bathroom's that way," he says, waving to one of the doors.
My bladder, forgotten for a moment, tingles at the reminder. I'm glad to have something to do. What am I supposed to say to him when I have his cum inside me?
I scurry off to the bathroom.
His en suite is my favorite room in the house: dark marble with copper accents, it's the only place that doesn't look like it was decorated by someone allergic to color.
The mirror reflects exactly what I expected: messy curls, red eyes with dark circles underneath, and some dried drool at the corner of my mouth—unless it's something else entirely.
I start his double head showers. The system is complicated, but I touch buttons until a powerful stream of hot water falls on me.
I think I stay under there for at least half an hour. I've never experienced anything more soothing and delectable than this hot, intense shower. Except maybe the sex with Camden just before. Maybe I can talk him into sex under the shower someday—to combine the two.
When I finally get out, I'm reluctant to put my soiled dress back on. I take a thick gray robe hanging to the wall instead.
Camden's at his desk when I head back out.
"School work?" I guess.
He shakes his head. "I'm handling some investments."
I look around awkwardly, at a loss as to what I am supposed to do. "Do you want me to go?" I ask.
He's used me to his heart's content today, so I doubt he's planning on another round.
The corner of his mouth curves up. "I still have over three hours of your time, princess."
I'm surprised he wants me to hang around if he's not planning on fucking me. Maybe he’s planning on another round after he's recovered.
"You seem busy," I say, wishing I had my computer or a book on me.
What am I supposed to do?
"This opportunity is time sensitive, or I wouldn't do it right now." Camden almost sounds apologetic. "I won't be long. Make yourself at home. There are clothes in the adjacent room, if you’d like to borrow a t-shirt or some sweats—though they’ll drown you. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen."
He's giving me free rein of his house?
I hesitate, flustered by the thought of running into his roommates after today.
"Should I bring you something back?"
He shakes his head, fully focused on his work.
I escape the uneasiness, heading to his walk-in closet first. He’s right, his clothes are ridiculously large on me. I settle on a white t-shirt that falls to my mid-thigh and a pair of boxers.
Then I head to the kitchen as he suggested. I haven't eaten anything since breakfast, and my stomach grumbles as I open the enormous fridge.
He has everything. Cuts of beef, tuna steaks, chicken, clams, an insane variety of large, beautiful, and shiny produce, beer, wine, juice, three different sorts of milk. I shake my head, imagining the amount of stuff they waste every week, with a fridge stocked like that.
After making an inventory of ingredients, I opt to use up some of them rather than heating up one of their—many—ready-made dishes.
I'm frying onions when Rhys comes in through the french doors leading outside, dressed in swimming trunks, with a towel wrapped around his neck.
"Oh, hi," I say awkwardly.
