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I’m tired, but the memory of Camille’s body against mine, her skin glistening with sweat as she rode my cock, her whimpers and moans as she sucked my tip, her drool rolling down my shaft—it was all very much worth one exhausted day.
Even if I have an important meeting soon.
Camille’s breathing is slow and deep. I watch her for a few minutes, enjoying the way the sheets barely cover her body. Weak sunlight makes her seem to glow.
I haven’t fucked like that in a long time.
I haven’twantedlike that in forever.
That was not how I expected the night to go.
I came to the Drake to have a quiet drink and scout out where I’d be having breakfast tomorrow—or in about an hour from now.
Instead, I ran into Camille, and something about her drew me in. It was her desperation, her obvious fear, but also the way she spoke to that bartender like she was going to rip his head off.
I could tell something was wrong. I saw it written all over her: the fear, the confusion. I’m not typically in the business of picking up strays, but I figured, why not do a good deed for once?
God knows I’ve done plenty of bad deeds for a lifetime.
I figured I’d pay her bill. Buy her dinner. Get her a room.
I didn’t think I’d end up deep between her creamy thighs.
But as we spoke, I felt something.
The girl has a fire in her.
And I got a taste of that fire last night.
She fucked like she wasn’t going to wake in the morning. There’s nothing sexier than a woman so deeply in tune with her body.
Than a woman that wants sex so badly it’s like a drug.
Her moans, her curses. The way she so eagerly wrapped her mouth around my cock and tried to please me as I pulled her hair.
The sticky champagne mixed with the lovely taste of her dripping pussy.
I might’ve gone a little overboard with that one. Fuck, it was lovely though, and I cleaned her quite thoroughly with my tongue.
I’m half-hard thinking about it.
But I have work to do, and as much as I loved Camille, my little star, I can’t let myself stay in this bed any longer.
I pull myself from the sheets and shower as quietly as I can. I dress in the same suit as the night before, only somewhat rumpled, and hesitate before I leave.
She’s still asleep, looking so vulnerable and beautiful.
I take the roll of cash from my jacket pocket and leave it on the nightstand.
It’s only a few thousand, but it should help her escape whoeverheis.
I don’t know where she’s going or who she’s running from, but I hope she finds what she’s looking for.
I’m tempted to do more. I want to wake her, tell her I’m leaving, and kiss her one last time.
But last night was risky enough. I fucked her raw, without protection—though she did say she’s on birth control at one point. Still, it was a stupid risk. If I keep going like this, I might make a mistake I can never return from.
I can’t let myself do that.
