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I shivered after he spoke, not because of the chill in the air and not because of his dark, deep voice. I did it because of the way he was looking at me. I didn’t need to know Cameron personally to understand a man like him didn’t do weakness. He was all strength, all power.
Before I knew what was happening, he leaned forward, reached around me, and pushed the plates and silverware to the side. The china clinked together, the glass spilling water along the white tablecloth. And then he had his hands on my waist, lifting me onto the hard, unforgiving top.
I reached behind me, bracing my hands on the linen, half of it wet under my palms. The heat from his body penetrated me, made me drunk, intoxicated with everything that was happening. Two weeks was short in the grand scheme of things, so the fact he wasn’t waiting to take me wasn’t all that surprising.
“Spread your legs,” he said, low, demanding that I do what he wanted.
The rational, survival part of me wanted to ask him what he had planned, what he’d do to me. But the smart part of me said,Shut the fuck up and do what he says.
I stared into his eyes and felt him smooth his hands over my inner thighs, pushing up the bottom part of the dress I wore. It was light, summery, and the feel of the material sliding over my skin had goose bumps popping out over my flesh.
When he was a few inches from the most intimate part of me, he exerted pressure and spread my thighs even wider. I swallowed, my throat feeling tight, dry. He moved his hands an inch closer, and I felt myself start to respond, felt my body heat come alive. I should have feared him, maybe even been disgusted, repulsed by what he probably wanted to do to me.
But I was wet.
“How affected are you right now?” he asked, his sweet-smelling breath moving along my lips. He moved his fingers even closer. I knew he had to be touching the edge of my lace panties now. He leaned in until there was only an inch separating our mouths. “Answer me.”
I licked my lips, searching his face, trying to read him. It was no use. This man was unmovable, unreadable. “Affected” was all I said, all I knew how to say in this moment. Actually saying I was wet, that I was ready for him, that this form of control and torture—albeit arousing me to no end—made me so on edge I would give it to him without a fight.
I saw something dark flicker in his eyes, but he didn’t show emotion any other way.
“If I touch your cunt, would you be wet?”
I didn’t make him wait for an answer. I nodded.
“If I stroked your little clit, would you come for me?”
Again I nodded. I knew I would, knew it wouldn’t take me more than a few hard, fast strokes of his finger on my clit to bring me off. He lowered his eyes to my chest, and I knew he was watching the way my breasts rose and fell, fast, almost violently. The white shirt he wore was unbuttoned at the collar, and the tattoos I could see looked angry, harsh…untouchable.
They matched the man in front of me.
I shifted, maybe to move away, to get some air. Maybe I was suffocating from my own desires, the need to be with this man so intense my fear and pleasure slammed together. They fought, my common sense telling me this wasn’t what I should want, that my body reacting this way wasn’t normal.
“Are you frightened of me or of this situation?” He smoothed his finger over the edge of my panties. “Does it scare the fuck out of you, what I plan on doing, that the unknown is right there, teasing you, tormenting you?”
I didn’t know if being honest was the right course, if admitting that yeah, I was afraid but I was also turned on, would actually be the wisest decision.
“You’re terrified right now, but I can also tell you want this.” He leaned in another inch, our mouths so close. “Your cheeks are pink, your pupils dilated.” He lowered his gaze to my mouth. “You’re breathing so hard right now, your breasts pushing against the material of the dress.” He lifted his gaze back to my eyes. “I bet you feel like you’re drowning.”
I felt myself pull my legs apart even more, as if my body had a mind of its own, was controlling this situation…was seeking out more of Cameron’s touch.
He made this deep, dark sound, this noise of approval, this tone that told me he liked what I’d just done.
“You want me to taste you, to lick you until you come?”
I shivered, my flesh tightening, my pulse racing.
“You want me to run my tongue through your cunt, suck at your clit, and show you how good I can make you feel?”
I didn’t know what to say, didn’t know if he actually wanted me to answer. And then he placed his hand right between my thighs, right over my wet pussy.
“Tell me what you want me to do, beg me for it.”
He got off on me saying these things, on the humiliation I felt succumbing to my desires, submitting to him. I felt a flush steal over me, my entire body on fire, my skin sensitive to the slightest breeze in the air. He added even more pressure, making me gasp, my toes curling.
“Fucking tell me what you want, and if you’re a good girl, I might give it to you.”
“I want you to touch me, to lick me,” I whispered.
