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"Ah, Anne, perfect timing. Can you take Morgan to the gold changing room? I need to select some pieces."
Anne flushes, and manages a much friendlier smile to me now. "Of course. This way, miss."
She leads me through the aqua corridors, to a room with white walls and gold trim.
This place looks like no changing room I've ever seen. It's a beautifully furnished lounge, though one of the walls is a mirror.
"She only takes her most sophisticated clients here," Anne volunteers. "The red room is for the flashier people—actresses, models, singers. The black room, for the eccentrics; the pink, the socialites; and the blue, for the shyer clients. This," she waves at the elegant decor, "it's the best. No distractions, no nonsense."
Anne approves of me now, either because her employer chose this room or because Camden shoved his cock far enough down her throat for her to be able to swallow anything, me included.
I don't attempt any reply other than a simple thank-you.
Camden leads the way, walking in and sitting down on one of the sofas.
I opt to remain standing. I don't want to get up and down with my stupid ribs shooting pain every time I move.
I walk around the room, making note of the furniture, the art on display, the mini bar filled with an array of drinks.
"Yes," Camden says, breaking the silence.
I turn back to him, eyebrows creased in confusion.
"The question you're not asking—the reason you're giving me the silent treatment," he clarifies. "The answer's yes. I was screwing Anne while you and Valentina worked on your wardrobe."
ChapterForty-Two
She's just too cute. Arms crossed on her chest, glowering, shoulders back. I'd take a picture if it wouldn't piss her off more.
"What makes you think I care?"
Everything, from her stance to her behavior.
I don't mind. I don't intend to nurture her jealousy, but I appreciate it all the same.I like that she cares. I'll train her out of caring about the wrong things soon enough.
"I started by spanking her, until she apologized for being a bitch to you. I think it took at least fifty slaps. Her ass was bright red. Those proud women are just so much fun, don't you think?"
"I don't need to hear about your exploits, Camden."
Doesn't she? I certainly will enjoy hearing hers. "Then I fingered her. I'm quite good at that. I'm sure you noticed. But I didn't try to make her come. I stopped every time she got close. I asked her to tell me why she tried to make you feel bad if she wanted to come. You know what she confessed?"
Morgan tries to pretend she's not intrigued and curious, and fails miserably. She's leaning in, her arms lowered to her side, her eyes wide as she hangs onto my every word, her cheek flushed.
She wants to know what Anne said. She wants to know if I let her come, or if I was cruel to her, just like I knew she would.
"She said you're pretty, and young, and the kind of girl who gets the guy. The kind of girl men like me bring to their grandmothers. She was jealous of you, Morgan. Petty, don't you think?"
She wets her lips, but doesn't try to reply.
"I was at an impasse. I like to reward honesty, but what would it say if I let her be unkind and petty and dismissive to my woman right in front of me, hm? So I stopped fingering her. I put a condom on and shoved my cock in her pussy.She was so, so wet, it went right in. I didn't bother to fuck her. That wasn't the point. I just needed moisture, and I didn't have lube on me. I figured I shouldn't spit on her. She was in her work dress, after all."
"You're so fucking weird, Camden."
I arch a brow. "Oh? You don’t want to know what I did next?"
Her mouth firms in a line.
Next time, I'll have her admit she wants me to tell her. For now, it's enough that she's listening, and flushing, and getting aroused.
