Page 148 of Suck It Up


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The picture changes again, and this time Iama little shocked, because she's wearing the very dress she's wrapped in now. Bending over a sink, her dress lifted over her waist, she looks back at the camera, a cock deep in her asshole.

The father stops screaming at the son to look at that picture. He's trying to rationalize things in his mind, but the previous excuse is flimsy now. How could anyone work a picture this fast, given that she's wearing that dress today?

"Aren't they, like, in an open relationship or something?" I whisper to Camden.

"Not even close." He snorts. "See, the dad's part of the Heritage, and more than happy to get his dick wet where he likes, but he prefers his women to keep their legs closed to anyone else."

I wrinkle my nose in distaste.

It would be one thing if they both could do as they pleased, but if only one of them can, the relationship seems too unbalanced. Which I suppose is the point. Mr. Carmichael likes to be on top, to own his trophy wife.

He won't like when he hears from whatever expert he hires that the pictures are real.

I marvel at the whole horror of it all. Nate was sitting on at least the first two pictures when he let his dad get hitched. This is just so devious. "Remind me not to piss Nate off."

"Nate?" Camden winks. "This was my idea—and my concealed camera in his button."

I snort. "What did his dad do to piss him off?"

While the picture is of the bride, I don't miss the fact that this was staged to embarrass, infuriate, and inconvenience the father most of all.

"He's always been a dick. When his mother was dying of cancer, he was on his private island, fucking some college chick, because—his words—'it was too depressing in the house.’ Then, weeks after her funeral, he announced he was marrying the girl."

That'd do it. No wonder Nate's so drunk for this wedding.

"Poor Nate."

Camden laughs. "You can suck his cock to make him feel better in a sec. I think the party'll be over shortly."

Indeed, the bride and her husband soon disappear, followed by the best man, who shortly comes back to politely ask us to leave. I'm disappointed, half wanting to peek in on the whole drama. This was better than an episode ofSex and the City.

"Where to now?" I ask as we walk out with the throng of people.

It's barely nine, and I doubt Camden's done with me. He would have known this party was going to end early, given his involvement in the drama.

"How would you like to check out the Heritage?" he asks.

I'm surprised, because first of all, he's asking rather than telling me. It’s Friday, he doesn't need my approval. It's his free use day. But also because I assumed he was purposely keeping me away from his whole Heritage thing.

Skylar goes there every week—she's been rather tightlipped about it, other than telling me about her deal a few days ago—but Camden hasn’t ever mentioned bringing me to his club before. I figured he didn’t want to.

“New York was the flagship club—and it’s still the largest. It could be fun,” he says, clearly trying to convince me.

“Are you kidding? I’m dying of curiosity. I get to see how the other half lives.”

I’m rewarded by his gorgeous smile, and he takes my hand, leading me away on foot.

ChapterSeventy

Our destination is just around the corner, blending in with the rest of the Upper East Side architecture. I don’t know what I expected, but whatever it was, this isn’t it.The only thing even remotely incongruous is the largeHgold sign—the same as the signet ring Camden wears at his throat.I’ve seen it around Roman’s wrist and Rhys’s wrist too.

We walk into a bright, charming lobby, no different from any luxurious hotel’s, including the one we just left.

Camden scans his ring over a machine at the reception desk.

“Mr. Hunt,” the man manning the station greets him with a winning smile.“And your guest… Does the lady need to sign in or register?”

“Register, if you please—though there should already be a file in the system. Morgan Brown?”

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