by Marie James
The second we enter her room, she releases my hand and strips her top off over her head. Distracted, I watch it flutter to the floor, but my mistake comes when I look back up at her.
I’m met with full perky tits and a wicked smile. My mouth runs dry, and even though I know I should, I just can’t seem to look away.
“Do you like what you see?” She grins, batting her eyelashes, and I think she’s trying to act innocent and cute, but then she bends at the waist, and her skirt is on the floor.
“You’re fucking perfect.” So perfect, in fact, my fantasies didn’t do her justice. They didn’t even come close.
The black lace between her thighs makes her pale skin look even lighter, and the contrast is striking.
“You’re going the wrong direction,” she whispers, but it isn’t until my back hits the wall that I realize I’ve been taking steps away from her.
“I can’t fuck you,” I spit, thankful that my mouth is working when my brain is fried.
“Really?” Her fingers toy with the thin straps of her panties at her hips. She doesn’t pull them all the way down, but it’s clear that she’s completely bare when she pulls them out and lets them pop back against her skin. The sound is a bomb in the room, and as much as I know I should run out of here, my feet just don’t seem to be working, nothing is working but my cock.
“You’re drunk,” I remind her. “I’m too much of a gentleman to take advantage of that.”
“Gentleman?” Her laugh fills the room, and it’s the greatest thing I’ve heard. “The same gentleman that wanted to prove to me that he’s a man by pulling his jeans down and whipping his cock out.”
“Don’t say cock.” Not because I think it’s a bad word, but that word coming from her lips makes walking away even more difficult, and I’m already fighting against every urge in my body right now.
“We don’t have to fuck.” That filthy word has a worse effect on me than cock did.
“Where are your pajamas?” I hope distracting her will work, and lord knows she needs to cover up all of that perfect milky flesh before I give into the base urges of slamming inside of her, consequence and regret tomorrow be damned.
When I pull open the top drawer on her dresser, I’m one hundred percent certain that the universe hates me and is paying me back for all the things I’ve done in my life. Dozens of lace, satin, and silky panties stare back up at me. Fantasies of raiding her panty drawer when I was a kid flash in my mind, and my cock jerks again.
The second drawer is bras, leaving me no better than the top drawer did, but I hit pay dirt on the third drawer. I rifle through the fabric before pulling out a pair of sweats and an oversized t-shirt, even though I know her appeal won’t diminish at all even if she puts them on. The woman could be wearing yesterday’s trash, and I’d still be an iron pipe in my jeans.
Why does her room smell so good?
“I got you some cloth—” The words die on my lips, and the clothing falls to the floor.
Laid back against her headboard, Camryn-every fantasy rolled into one-Davison has her legs spread and her hand working behind the black lace of her panties.
“You worked so hard to get me. Are you really going to walk out of here without taking what I’m offering?”
She’s got horny sex kitten down to a science.
“We can’t sleep together, Cam.”
“We don’t have to sleep together to have fun.”
My ears perk up at her suggestion, but then another frown takes over my face. “This isn’t a good idea. I don’t want you waking up tomorrow regretting what we do tonight. You mean more to me than some quick drunken fuck.”
“It doesn’t have to be quick.”
I swallow thickly, measuring the distance from me to her and me to the door.
“And I won’t regret it,” she promises, and I want to believe her. Fuck, do I want to believe her.
The warning in Griffin’s eyes snake back into my head, and I resolve to walk away.
“I need you.”
And then she says something like that.
“Make me feel good before you go?”
“Camryn.”
“Please?” With that last word, she pulls those fucking devil panties to the side, and the sight of her glistening pink flesh makes up my mind for me. I’m going to Hell. I’m certain of it, but at least I’ll be tossed into the fire with her taste on my tongue.
A second later, I’m climbing across her queen-sized bed, and my tongue is tracing the delicate skin from the crease of her knee to the part where her thigh joins the rest of her body.
“Yes,” she moans.
“Keep making those noises, and I’ll come in my jeans.”
“But that’s not where I want you coming tonight.”
I’m done for. All consequences, regrets, and Griffin’s warning fly out the window. Combined with the scent of her infiltrating my nostrils as I lick closer to her center, I feel like an idiot for trying to resist to begin with. So much wasted time.
Her back arches when I swipe my tongue from top to bottom, and without missing another beat, my hand grabs one perfect breast, and I devour her. I swirl, lick, suck, and tease her. There’s no rhythm or plan to what I’m doing. The only thing I’m focused on is pleasing her. It’s my end goal, and when she begins making noises, flexing her hips, and tangling her fingers in my hair, I realize her orgasm is the only thing I need tonight.
Her whimpers and begging for more along with the wet sounds of giving her pleasure mix with my own groans of delight until she’s a tangled mess of tension.
“Samson. Oh God. I’m going to—”
I know what’s happening even though she can’t get the words out. There’s no denying the pulsing against my tongue and lips as she falls apart. We’re both breathless when she’s finally done, and I’m certain I’m more than halfway in love with this woman when she peeks down at me as I kiss my way up her stomach.
“That was amazing.” Her words are soft, breathless. More whimpers sneaking out when I wrap my lips around one nipple and suck. “Take your jeans off.”
Well, I thought her pleasure was all I needed. I release her perfect breast with a pop and search her eyes for any form of doubt. Even though I don’t find any because she’s still drunk and riding an orgasmic high, I lick her other nipple and climb off the bed.
“I still don’t think this is the best idea,” I tell her as I lean over to untie my boots. “I plan on reminding you how much you begged me tomorrow if you wake up and freak out.”
I stand, unbuttoning and unzipping my jeans before shoving them and my boxers to my ankles. Refusing to be ignored for a second longer, my cock jerks, pre-cum already leaking from the tip in anticipation. I grip it in my hand as I kick my jeans away.
“I hope that orgasm was enough, because there’s no way I’m going to last long enough to get you there agai—”
My smile disappears when I turn around to face her, finding her splayed out just like she was when I rolled off of her, only her eyes are closed, face relaxed, and there are tiny snores already escaping from her parted lips.
My cock cries in pain, and I release it like my hand is on fire.
“Jesus,” I hiss, but then I chuckle.
Relief, rather than disappointment washes over me. After tugging my jeans back up, I cover her with the blanket from the foot of her bed.
I wish I could say that I walked out of there and left, but my chivalry only goes so far. Rather than being a gentleman, I left her room, spent some time in her bathroom to get my own situation under control before returning to the bed and pulling her mostly naked body against my own.
When her friend returned joined by a man with a deep voice, I was certain I was a glutton for punishment. I’ll tell her all about it in the morning and also suggest some WD40 for her friend’s bed. The squeaking from her room infiltrated my dreams until I was the lone man on a two-man rail car coasting down the train tracks and never arriving at my destination. It was the perfect metaphor
for my current situation and the ache in my balls.
Chapter 18
Camryn
I wake with a start and chuckle when I realize it was my own snoring that woke me. That only happens when I’ve been drinking.
The laughter fades when my head swims and halts altogether when a hand squeezes my breast. As if having an out-of-body experience, I look down at the hand on my bare chest. Tan, strong, capped with well-manicured nails, I know immediately whose it is. I wasn’t so drunk last night that I can’t remember what happened, but as I wait for the regret at the way I threw myself at this man, I grab my phone and shoot off a text to human resources, claiming a stomach virus with accompanying fever, before slowly trying to climb out from underneath Samson.
His grip tightens, and I wish I felt shame from being in this position with him rather than my nipple furling under his palm. Flashes of last night and the brazen way I laid myself out on this bed—
“Nope,” I mutter to myself. “Not going to think about it.”
He must be exhausted because when I pull myself free from him, he merely rolls over and buries himself deeper into my covers. As much as I’d like to stay with him and possibly pick up where we left off last night, I have to put some space between us.
I was shameless last night in my quest to get off, and I spend the next ten minutes in the shower berating myself for both throwing myself at him and then for falling asleep before I could even get my eyes on his package. He’d never touch me if I wasn’t conscious, so I don’t have that to worry about, but I’m still overcome with shame for—
Actually, you know what? I’m not ashamed. The man made me come harder than I ever have in my life, and I refuse to regret that. Did I do something I never would’ve done sober? Yes. Do I regret it? Not on your life.
After last night and the way that perfect mouth worked me like a man starved, there’s no chance I’ll ever see him as anything other than the man that he is. I vow to make no more jokes about his age, or the fact that he called me mommy when he was younger. Hell, he can call me mommy now—
Scratch that. I cringe as I turn off the water. No calling me mommy, but I’m down for just about anything else.
I towel off quickly, feeling much better than I should after the amount I drank last night, and dress in the clothes Samson tried to offer me last night before he found me splayed out on the bed masturbating.
I feel my cheeks heat as I leave the bathroom, turning toward the kitchen rather than chancing going back into my bedroom.
I masturbated in front of a man last night. I mean I’ve touched myself under the covers at an ex’s insistence, but the lights were off, and he couldn’t get the full visual. Last night I wasn’t even prompted, and the energy-saving LED lights in my ceiling didn’t leave anything to the imagination.
Stopping before I hit the kitchen, I turn back down the hall and bang on Charli’s door. “We need to talk.”
Knowing it will take her a while to roll out of bed after being woken up, I head to the kitchen and begin to make the coffee.
Noise in the hallway sets me on edge as my mind races for how I plan to act when I see Samson, but the closing in the hallway is Charli’s door, not mine.
“I had to call in sick because of this hangover,” I say as she makes her way down the hall. “Dr. Hunter is going to be pissed. Where the hell did you disappear to last night? I have a million things to tell you.”
I leave the coffee brewing and head for the hall since she hasn’t cleared the end of it yet.
“You’re going to be so proud of m—”
If it were possible for my jaw to unhinge in shock, it would happen right now.
Charli isn’t standing in the hallway. Instead, I find Dr. Hunter clutching a pair of dress shoes to his chest with wide eyes. I’m just as shocked as he is, because I stand and stare, unable to speak.
“Umm,” he begins. “I won’t tell if you don’t?”
I slide to the wall when he advances toward me, and before I can say a word, he’s out the door and gone.
Unsure of what to do and certain I’m in the early stages of shock, I head back to the kitchen and stand at the counter. My eyes focus on the coffee maker, but nothing really registers.
I don’t know how long I’m standing there when Charli joins me.
“Hey, girl.” I spin on her, giving a death glare I hope makes her feel all sorts of bad.
“Don’t you dare ‘hey, girl’ me!” I point to the door as if Dr. Hunter is still standing there. “What the fuck did you do last night?”
“Got laid,” she says with a shrug and an air of nonchalance that confuses me so much, I can’t stop the laugh that escapes my throat.
“Dr. Hunter? Oh, Charli, don’t you remember what happened to Annette?”
“Annette made the mistake of falling in love with an attending. Now,” she begins as she slides past me to get to the coffee pot, “I’m totally in love with the way that man fucked me last night, but it was just sex.”
She grins before blowing over the top of her coffee.
“We have a no men in the apartment rule, remember? We vowed not to bring guys back here so we wouldn’t have to deal with the morning after bullshit.”
The sound of my bedroom door opening can be heard, and Charli raises one perfectly manicured eyebrow in my direction. She moves to stand off to the side just as Samson walks into the kitchen.
His eyes dart to me before shooting over to Charli before they find mine again. Giving him a sheepish smile, I wonder how he’s feeling about what happened last night now that we’re in the light of day.
I don’t know why I was even worried about anything. He grins as he walks toward me.
“Hey,” he whispers like my closest friend isn’t in the corner watching every second of this interaction.
“Hey.”
“I knew you’d look gorgeous in this.” His fingers tug at the fabric of my t-shirt, and he uses the movement to bring me flush against this chest. “I like walking in to see a smile on your face.”
His lips brush mine softly before he takes things deeper. When he sweeps his tongue in my mouth, I realize he found the mints on my bedside table.
When Charli clears her throat, we pull apart, and never once until now have I wanted to murder my best friend. I’m seconds away from suggesting we go back to my room and picking up right where we left off last night, but he taps his finger to the end of my nose.
“Keep that thought in your head, baby.” He pecks my mouth again. “I have to work with my dads today, but I’ll come back over this evening.”
“I don’t think tha—”
“Shh.” He presses his fingers to my lips before replacing them with his mouth.
I’m slack-jawed and staring after him as he leaves my apartment.
“What were you saying about the no men in the apartment rule?”
“Shut up,” I grumble before turning back to the coffee pot.
“Tell me about yours, and I’ll tell you about my night,” she offers after I make my cup of coffee and head to the living room couch.
“I don’t want to hear about your night with Dr. Hunter.”
And now that I’ve seen Samson again, I don’t really want to tell her about my night either. If he would’ve gotten up and just left or made some stupid excuse in order to get out of here, maybe I’d feel differently. The promise of returning later and my desire for that to happen makes sharing those types of details cheap and tawdry.
“But I want to hear what happened to you.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“So he must’ve been disappointing. Did he have a small one?” She holds her fingers close together with only about an inch between them.
I’m seconds from telling her that even though I didn’t see his dick, I felt it against me nearly all night while we were dancing and he’s well-endowed, but a moment before my mouth opens, I realize she’s goading me, and I refuse to fall into her trap.
“Okay.” Her eyes narrow when I just smirk at her, and I know she won’t be able to let go of the challenge. “Then I’ll talk about my night.”
“I don’t want to hear about your night,” I remind her.
The sight of Dr. Hunter standing in my hallway, albeit fully clothed, is going to be seared in my brain and will probably make my return to work tomorrow extremely awkward.
“Which is exactly why I’m going to tell you about it.” She taps her lips with a single finger. “Do I tell you about the way he likes his balls—”
“Stop!” I squeal. I desert my coffee on the table and race out of the room.
Her laughter follows me all the way down the hall, and the cackling continues when I slam my bedroom door closed.
Chapter 19
Samson
“You going to tell me where you were all night?”
I startle, pulling my fist back mere seconds before hitting Griffin in the face. He better be glad I’ve been working hard all day. If I were a hundred percent, he’d have blood running down his mouth.
“Dude, seriously? I almost hit you.”
“Where were you?”
“You know exactly where I was,” I say as I push past him.
“Samson.” I know he can read the guilt on my face when I turn to face him. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“I didn’t have sex with her if that’s what you’re asking,” I mumble. “We just messed around a bit.”
“Messed around?”
“Listen, I’m not going into details about my sex life with you. I didn’t take advantage of her. That’s all you need to know.” I turn around again, determined to walk away before he pisses me off even more, but stop short. “What fucking business is it of yours anyway?”
He watches me for a long moment before replying, “I don’t want you to mess things up before you can even get started with her. I almost ruined things with Ivy before I got my shit together.”
“I’ve got my shit together,” I argue, but that’s not exactly the point. “I know I shouldn’t have taken things as far as I did last night, but I don’t think I’ve ruined anything. She kissed me back this morning, so I think we’re fine.”
