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The sound of his finger moving over my soaked flesh filled the back of the limo. Could Damien hear what was going on? Did he know what was happening even if he couldn’t?
I opened my mouth, the pleasure building, the silent cry right on the tip of my tongue.
“Let go,” he said, those two words more of a demand than anything else. And when he slipped a finger into me, all the while still rubbing the little bud, I finally let go. It was like a dam opening up inside of me, breaking free, washing through my entire body and claiming me. I gasped and found myself biting down on his shoulder, knowing it had to hurt.
He hissed, but a groan still followed. The ecstasy was body absorbing, taking me further away, higher up.
And when the high faded, my body relaxed, my mind calmed, I rested against Cameron’s chest. He wrapped his arms around me, the act gentle, caring even. It was so against the man he portrayed, the one who killed without remorse because he could, because he had to in order to survive.
I don’t know how long we stayed like that, but Cameron held me the whole way, moving his hand up and down my back, letting me relax, be calm before the storm.
I could have stayed like this forever.
Chapter18
“We’re here,” Damien said through an intercom placed close to us. I lifted my head, surprised that the time had gone by so fast. Cameron helped me off him, and I adjusted my dress, making sure I was righted.
Through the window I could see the massive house we’d pulled in front of. There were cars lined up, each one waiting their turn. I watched one of the cars farther up, this sleek red sports car. One of the staff opened the door, and a gorgeous blonde in an equally gorgeous ruby-colored gown stepped out.
The man who accompanied her was older, maybe even double her age. They walked up the massive steps that led to the front door, and then we were moving forward.
I was still wet between my thighs, the arousal and orgasm Cameron had brought forth in me not dimming in the slightest. Blood rushed through my veins, this excitement and fear coursing through me. Once it was our turn, the back door was opened. Cameron stepped out, then promptly held his hand out for me.
I slipped mine into his much larger palm, allowing him to pull me out gently, and together we ascended the steps. My mind was whirling, my pulse racing. I could hear music coming from the inside.
I wanted to ask what this event was about, but I knew better. And truth was I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want to know about the men who were here, ones who were most likely dangerous, just as much as Cameron.
We headed inside, and my breath was stalled in my lungs at the sight before me. Crystal chandeliers, a smoke-filled atmosphere smelling of sweetness, and servants walking around with silver trays and champagne flutes filled with bubbling liquid took up my view. I saw a few other servants with trays filled with hors d’oeuvres, the staff’s backs stiff and their expressions blank.
The guests were in expensive outfits, diamonds and gems dripping from them. The men looked severe and intense as they spoke to each other. The women appeared to be more ornamental than anything else, their heads downcast, their expressions void.
I didn’t miss the fact that some of the men eyed me, their gazes lewd. I felt Cameron wrap his arm around me, pulling me closer to him. I sank against his hard body, feeling like nothing could touch me. I knew he didn’t have to bring me here, didn’t have to show me off. He wanted to because he knew he could protect me, keep me safe.
Twisted reasoning or not, I trusted him.
For the next twenty minutes we walked around. I held a champagne flute in my hand, the liquid warming in the glass because I wasn’t drinking it fast enough. Cameron spoke with a few men, his voice even, the respect they had for him clear.
And then one man started speaking in another language, his voice clipped, his words clearly angry, even though I didn’t know what he said. The man had gray, thinning hair, and his eyes were these thin little black beads.
He stopped in front of us, a young, voluptuous, and busty woman hanging on his arm. She too had her head downcast and couldn’t be more than twenty-five.
Cameron’s arm was still wrapped around me tightly, but his fingers digging into my waist told me he was focused on the man he was speaking with, not realizing what he was doing. I slipped out of his hold, and he stopped speaking and looked at me.
The man started rambling off in that other language, and Cameron turned and barked out a string of words. The other man paled, his back going straight, his eyes narrowing. Cameron looked at me again.
“I’m just going to walk around, see the art.”
Cameron looked me in the eyes, his gaze penetrating, intense. He finally nodded, but I wasn’t foolish enough to think he wouldn’t know where I was.
I walked down one of the hallways, the guests thinning as they congregated with each other at the front of the house. The art was colorful, erratic even. I kept moving, looking at each piece. There was a set of open double doors to my right, and I moved closer.
I didn’t want to be nosy, but the lights were on, and I saw even more art. Surely if no one was allowed in here, the doors would be shut.
I stepped inside, the lights dimmer than I’d originally thought, the corners hidden with shadows, making the art seem ominous. I walked around, the scent of old leather, roses, and something darker filling the air.
The sound of wood creaking behind me had me looking over my shoulder. A man stepped inside, his focus on his cell, his face cast in a scowl. He said something low, too low for me to understand.
He shoved his cell in his pocket, went to turn around, but then spotted me. For a second he just stared at me, his dark eyes seeming like endless pools. It gave me the chills, made me frightened. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want to be in the same room with him.
