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Camden gets to his feet, and a rush of awareness awakens my groin.
I know he could stop my game at any moment, and he wants to. Seeing him struggle to decide if he wants to punish me more than he wants to keep watching me is a serious turn-on.
"Do you want me in your mouth, princess?" His voice is rough, thick, half threatening.
I bat my lashes. "But you promised you wouldn't fuck me. Surely fucking my mouth counts?"
He growls. "You realize I'm going to make you regret this moment, don't you? I thought you knew the rule. If you take power from me, I have to take it back."
Power. He's right. I feelpowerful. He's unhinged, and furious, and horny, and I am responsible for it.
I lie back on the footstool and lift my feet either side of me, before tentatively exploring the inside of my pussy with my middle finger. He's getting a full view.
Camden frees his thick cock, and my tongue dips to my lower lip of its own volition. "I'm going to come on your pussy, and your face, and your tits," he vows. "I'm going to bathe you in my cum."
"I'm going to come on my fingers, not yours."
That's his limit. I'm surprised he lasted as long.
He kneels between my legs and shoves his mouth right where I need it.
I'm embarrassed to say, I explode at the first flick of his tongue. Pain shoots through my right side but I don't even care, riding the wave of pleasure. Camdendoesn't stop. He sucks and licks and shoves his tongue inside me, though I haven't removed my finger.
Camden sits up, and my eyes budge in my face as I watch him place himself between my legs, his cock right at my entrance.
"Camden…"
"You forgot, sweetheart. You'remylittle slut on Fridays."
I have a complete essay with appendices and examples at the ready, to argue that the promise I just extracted from him ought to overshadow that deal, but before I can say the first word, he drags my hips off the beige stool and rocks forward, slamming deep inside me in one punishing, asserting thrust.
ChapterForty-Four
Fuck, fuck, fuck.This wasn't the plan. Her ribs. I can even see the dark bruises on her right side. She must be hurting. Why the fuck did she provoke me like this? She knows me. She knows what I'm like.Fuck. How is she so fuckingtight? She's not my first virgin. I’ve known more than my fair share of vaginas, untouched and otherwise. They’re not supposed to feel this fuckinggood.
Morgan’s demanding cunt grips me so hard it's strangling my dick. I can barely see straight. I give her a moment to adjust, mostly because if I move now, I'll embarrass myself and come in less than three pumps.
I'm gonna marry this girl. I've known it for days—if not since June—but the fact is cemented when her dripping cunt attempts tosuffocate my throbbing cock.
"You didn't put a condom on!" she screeches.
I manage to choke on a laugh that ends in a groan. Seriously, it shouldn't be medically possible for a woman to be this fucking tight. That cunt is supposed to be able to expel a baby at some point.Soon. Very soon.It shouldn't be thisclinched around my cock.
I lean forward, bringing my mouth to her collarbone, then her shoulder, trailing soft kisses along her skin to make her relax. "I'm never going to wear a condom with you, princess."
She might as well accept as much now. I don't even wear one with Heritage members. What's the point? We all get tested and as a courtesy, we wear a condom and avoid oral with non-members. There always are exceptions—such as what I'm doing right now—and we wrap it up if we've dipped it outside of the club, but between us, things are safe enough.
"I'm not on the pill!" she says urgently, like it should be in any way relevant to me.
Should I care? She sounds like she thinks I ought to. "I guess I'm knocking you up sooner than I thought, then. "
"I'm not joking. You have to—" I shut her up by withdrawing from her heated vise and slamming straight back home.
She yells, and I don't like the sound of it, because I don't think it's due to the fun kind of pain.
Shit, her fucking ribs. I really should have waited.We should have done this at home, on my bed, with red rose petals on the sheet and champagne on the bedside, after she's healed. That's what a man who isn't an asshole would have given her. I bet Trent Dawson planned something along those lines. Instead, she's on a two by six footstool, her ass off the fabric so we don't stain my grandmother's beige velvet with her blood.
I truly am a dick.
