I angle my head to the side, allowing him better access. His lips press against the flesh at the corner of my jaw. “Don’t play games with me, Cam.” To emphasize the point, I free a hand and palm his erection through his shorts. A low growl reverberates through his chest. His response gives me the courage to ask for what I want. “Take me upstairs and fuck me. You know you want to.”
“God, yes.” His gaze rakes over me. I feel him in every part of my body, in my nipples, in the juncture of my thighs. “I want to make you come a thousand times, hear you scream my name, taste you here.” He presses the heel of his hand against my sex.
“Then what are you waiting for?” My panties are wet from the need in his voice. “No one will ever know.”
“What about Giles?”
“What about him?” I knew he was watching us by the pool when Giles tried to kiss me. Maybe it wasn’t fair to play Giles like that, but he’s a grown man who can look after himself. And I have a sneaking suspicion Giles is more attracted to my bank account than me.
“Just checking out the competition.”
“Giles is a friend, nothing more. I already told you there isn’t anyone else.” To keep Cam’s ego in check, I add, “But he is a handsome man.”
Cam snorts, pulling me closer. “Now who’s playing with whom?”
“I’m not playing. I’m completely serious.” To prove my point, I slide my palm up and down his erection.
He groans and swallows, the muscles of his throat constricting. “What happens when you fall in love with me?” Humor returns to his eyes. One eyebrow lifts. “I don’t want to break your heart.”
Something about his warning strikes a chord, but I’m too far gone to pay heed. I’ve never had a broken heart, and I’m arrogant enough to think it will never happen to me because I’ve taken precautions against it. “You really need to work on your confidence level.” I remove my hand from his cock and grind my hips against his. “Take me upstairs.”
He shoves me away and thrusts a hand through his hair. “Goddamn, Vanessa.”
There’s no time to reply because two seconds later I’m cradled in his arms. He carriers me down the short hallway and into the library. Without ceremony, he dumps me onto the leather sofa. His eyes blaze as he stares down at me, chest heaving. A thrill of anticipation zips up my legs and into my core.
Silently, he draws his T-shirt over his head then shoves down his shorts. His erection bobs forward between us—long, thick, and heavily veined. Sunlight streams through the windows, highlighting his enviable body. Dust motes whirl in the slanted beams. He draws a condom from the pocket of his shorts.
Following his lead, I toss aside my shirt and wiggle out of my pants. I lean back on my elbows, wearing only my panties and bra. The tip of his tongue slides over his lower lip. Unlike the other boys I’ve been with, I don’t feel any awkwardness or embarrassment, only anticipation. The way his eyes drink in every inch of my semi-nude body is all the assurance I need that he likes what he sees.
“Are you ready for me?” His voice is quiet, calm, like he’s asking me to pass the salt at one of my mother’s dinner parties.
“Yes.” My mouth is dry; the word comes out rough and raspy.
He dips his head to kiss me. His tongue dives deep into my mouth. I open for him, reveling in his earthy groan. The cool burn of his mint continues after he pulls away. With an expert flick of thumb and forefinger, he releases the clasp of my bra. It whispers to the floor. My nipples sting as blood rushes into them.
“You’ve got the most beautiful tits.” Big hands cup my breasts and squeeze gently. He speaks reverently. “I like these.” He traces the circle of my areola using the tip of his little finger. “They’re the prettiest shade of pale pink. My grandma had roses this color by her back porch.”
“Please don’t talk about your grandma right now.”
“Right.” His chuckle vibrates between us. “Deal.”
My panties come off next. He lingers in the act of removing them, smoothing his palms along the outsides of my thighs. My senses shift into overdrive. I’m hyperaware of everything; I’ve never been more alive. The sweet scent of hydrangeas floats on the breeze through the open window. The leather of the chaise is cool against my bare backside and squeaks occasionally when I squirm. My heart thumps in my ears, blotting out the drone of locusts and the twittering of birds.
Cam opens my knees with his hands and stares down at my sex. The muscles deep inside my pelvis flutter in excitement. He drags a finger along my seam, testing, before dipping inside my opening. I clench around the intrusion and struggle to draw breath. “Damn, you’re so tight.” He shifts to lie between my open thighs. His erection grazes my belly. With one hand, he guides it to my entrance but hesitates, taunting me.
“Inside. Now.” I don’t recognize the desperate voice speaking but know it’s mine.
“Take what you want, Vanessa. I’m right here. All you’ve got to do is—”
Before he can finish the sentence, I raise my hips. He slides into me, so deep I think I might faint. The exquisite friction radiates along my nerve endings. I feel him in my toes, my fingertips, my chest.
“Ah.” He throws his head back, baring the long, muscular column of his throat. I lean forward and nip along his jugular. He twists his pelvis, doing delicious things inside me with his cock.
I’m fascinated by the way his abs ripple with each thrust, the veins popping along his biceps, the clench and release of his buttocks beneath my clutching hands. He withdraws then slides in again to the base. We moan in tandem. This moment is perfect in every way except one. He avoids my gaze. Our eyes never meet—not even once.
“Fuck me. Hard.” I whisper the dirty words, words I’ve never said to anyone, into his ear. My nails dig the firm flesh of his ass. He pumps into me, gathering speed. Tension coils deep in my womb.
Our bodies slap together. I tighten my legs around his twisting torso. One of his arms steals about my waist. He moves my body where he wants it, adjusting the angle of my hips for deeper penetration, intensifying the sensations for both of us.
“Come for me,” he commands. “Let go, Vanessa. I want to hear you scream.” The rawness of his voice sends me over the edge.
The orgasm rips through me. My muscles contract. I hear a cry—my cry—echo against the bookshelves. Colors flash against the walls. I’ve had orgasms before, but never anything like this, nothing so intense. My skin burns, my thighs quiver. Soft lips soothe along my neck. When I start to float back to earth, he presses a thumb to my clit, and I gasp as a second wave of pleasure rolls from my sex to my toes.
“That’s right. That’s what I want to hear.” His speech becomes terse, guttural. While I try to gather my senses, he plunges into me with reckless abandon, rocking the chaise. The tendons in his neck tighten. His entire body stiffens, and he groans, spilling into the condom between us, rolling his hips to prolong the pleasure.
16
Vanessa
Today
Cam’s driver picks me up at Seaforth Towers and drives me across the city to his office. He’s on the top floor of another skyscraper built by my father. A flutter dances in my stomach as I ride the elevator to the top. The doors open onto a sleek world of chrome and glass. A receptionist leads me down a corridor plastered with framed magazine covers and articles featuring Cam. He’s done well for himself, overcoming the handicaps of his childhood and social inequities.
At the end of the hall, a pair of glass desks flank a mirrored wall. Two blondes dressed in black pantsuits look up from their work. They’re identical twins, hair swept into severe buns at the nape of their necks. For a second, I think they’re the woman in his hotel room, and heat races up my neck. Cam, however, is too smart to fuck his employees.
“Have a seat. Mr. Blackwood will be with you momentarily.” The receptionist points to a sleek chair, more artistic than practical.
After twenty minutes, I sigh and glance at my watch. It’s just like Cameron to keep me
waiting. With every passing minute, my anxiety grows. What if he doesn’t like my business plan? If he pulls out of Seaforth Media, the newspapers will have a heyday. Our stock is already at an all-time low. Cam’s departure will be viewed as an indication of my incompetency and could set off a chain reaction. I won’t let that happen.
“Do you know how much longer Mr. Blackwood is going to be?” I ask one of the twins. As important as this meeting is, I have other responsibilities. Cam needs to respect my position. “I may need to reschedule.”
The mirrored wall shimmers and becomes clear. Two panels slide open, and Cam steps out, followed by three older gentlemen. I recognize the Mayor of Laurel Falls among them. They shake hands before parting. I’m mesmerized by Cam’s air of command, the way these men hang on his every word.
“Vanessa. Good to see you.” He’s all business, his tone serious, his face blank. When his striking blue eyes land on me, my heart twists, like it’s trying to escape the prison of my ribs.
He’s wearing a black suit, blue striped tie, and a crisp white shirt. The pocket square in his jacket coordinates with the tie, and the shade of blue exactly matches the color of his eyes. The lines of his suit are impeccable, emphasizing his broad shoulders and narrow waist. His black hair is pushed back from his face in a mess of long curls. Dark stubble peppers his square jaw. My mouth goes dry, and I forget why I’m here.
“Are you coming?” One of his thick, dark eyebrows lifts. He extends a hand, curling his fingers, beckoning to me.
“Yes.”
The interior of his office is dark, cool, the colors muted and masculine, the furnishings minimalist. He places a hand on the small of my back and ushers me toward a sofa and coffee table. Behind us, the wall of glass darkens and the doors slide silently shut. It’s a nifty trick, and I make a mental note to investigate it later.
“Have a seat. Make yourself comfortable. Would you like coffee, or something stronger?” The corner of his mouth curls up in a sideways smile. “I know how you like to day drink.”
“No, thank you.” I gaze longingly at a bottle of scotch on the bar. A nip would do wonders to calm my nerves, but I need to keep my wits about me. “Coffee would be nice.”
“Twelve steps?” He’s teasing me now, and it comes as a shock. “I hear admitting you have a problem is the first step toward recovery.”
“The only problem I have right now is you.” The words tumble out before I can stop them. I bite the inside of my cheek and frown. He laughs. The deep, rumbling sound does crazy things to my insides.
“Back at you, sweetheart.” He pours coffee into two cups. The rich aroma fills the room. “One sweetener, no cream, right?”
“Yes.” I’m hard-pressed to recall what I wore to work last week, let alone something from twelve years ago. Looking at his handsome face, I know that’s not true. I remember the appendectomy scar on his belly, the way he talks in his sleep, the glide of his fingers between my legs. “How can you remember that?”
“I remember a lot of things.” His voice lowers, deepens. “How you smell, the way your eyes change colors when it rains, the tiny mole on your left ass cheek.”
Holy crap, my panties are getting damp at the memories. I squeeze my thighs together and blow on the coffee, even though it’s the perfect temperature. Cam’s gaze focuses on my lips. Our eyes meet, and it’s so obvious what he’s thinking.
“Those girls in your hotel room—were they prostitutes?” I ask. He chokes and sputters on his first sip of coffee. With a groan, he dabs at the dark brown spots on his shirt. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”
A blush tints his cheeks. It’s genuine and unexpected. He clears his throat, frowning. “Do you really want to know, because I’m happy to go into the details.”
It’s my turn to blush. “No. Not really.”
“They’re professional volleyball players. Whenever they’re in town, they like to drop by.” His lips curl at my growing discomfort. I fan my face with a folder to cool the heat in my cheeks. “Sometimes they like to—”
“I’m good. That’s enough.” My hands shake as I rummage through the reports. “I had Ivan email the file to you. Did you have a chance to go over it?”
“No. Tell me. Give me your elevator pitch.”
I draw in a deep breath and launch into a synopsis of marketing, investments, and restructuring. He waits until I’m finished to comment. I bite my lower lip, more nervous than I’ve ever been while he studies the reports.
“You’ve put a lot of thought into this.” The downward inflection of his tone isn’t promising.
“Yes. I was serious when I said I want to work things out. My best team has been working on this nonstop. Seaforth Media is important to the overall health of Seaforth Industries. You started this company. My father’s name took it to the next level. We can continue the trend. Together, with my business sense and your media power, we can turn it around.”
“I have no doubt the company can be turned around.” He removes his arm from behind me, smooths his tie, and stares out the window. “The Seaforth name doesn’t carry the same weight it once did. I can do all this on my own. Why do I need you?”
His blunt answer dashes the last of my hopes. Why indeed? He’s already rich and powerful. The truth of the matter is that I’m the one who needs him, not the other way around. I’m desperate and not above using all my resources to get what I want. I uncross and cross my legs. His gaze travels the length of my calves and the sheer black thigh-highs covering them. The bulge of his Adam’s apple bobs. “You don’t. But I need you. I know it, and you know it.” Honesty is always the best policy. “I’m willing to sweeten the deal, restructure the partnership.”
“You haven’t done your homework, Vanessa.” The lids of his eyes lower, hooding his thoughts, but I can hear the disappointment in his tone.
“What do you mean?” Nervous butterflies flutter in my stomach, the bad kind. Embarrassment scalds my cheeks. I blow out a breath and unbutton the top two buttons of my blouse. “Is it hot in here, or is it just me?”
“It’s just you.” His nostrils flare. A tremor of excitement zings along my inner thighs. I know that look. Some things never change. I drag the tip of my tongue over my bottom lip and lower my eyelashes. “It means you haven’t prepared for this meeting.” His fingertips drum on the arm of the sofa. His chest swells with a long exhale. “Don’t fuck with me. I’m not a lovesick boy anymore. This is important. You’re too smart to play games like this.” With his free hand, he gathers the reports together and shoves them into my arms. Placing a hand between my shoulder blades, he propels me toward the door. “Now, get out.”
17
Cam
Twelve Years Ago
The library smells of leather, dust, and sex. Sunlight illuminates the highlights in Vanessa’s hair. The fine strands spill over the cushion beneath her head. Blood pulses in my ears and my cock from an orgasm so delicious, I’m delirious. Once it fades, however, the reality of what we’ve just done hits me in the head like a sucker punch. What was I thinking? After passing a shaking hand over my face, I pull out of her and sit back on my knees, take off the condom and tie it in a knot. My gaze drifts over her body. The creamy skin of her torso is pink. Her nipples thrust at me, begging for my mouth. Damn, if I don’t want her again. If only to prove to myself that it wasn’t the best sex I’ve ever had.
Mistake number one: I drilled Vanessa Seaforth in the library of the Avondales’ house. Not just screwed, but fucked like a horny monkey
Mistake number two: I liked it—a lot. So much, in fact, that my dick is getting hard again. She’s incredibly wet, the evidence glistening on her inner thighs. With the flush of sex still on her cheeks and her lips swollen from my kisses, she’s irresistible.
As if reading my thoughts, she sits up and starts to dress. I do the same, shoving my shaking legs into my shorts, and trying not to stumble.
Vanessa runs her fingers through her mussy hair and gives me a smile. “T
hat was amazing,” she says. The light from the window catches her green eyes, and I press my lips together. I hope she doesn’t think this means we’re a thing now. So many girls do that, read more into the act, confusing biological lust with emotional love.
“Yeah,” I say, because I’m an idiot, and because I have no words to describe what just happened.
“Okay, well, I’ve got some reading to do. I’ll catch up with you later.” She pats my cheek and leaves.
I follow her delectable ass out the door with my gaze, mouth gaping open in shock. Did she really just brush me off? I sink onto the chaise and pillow my face in my hands while I fight to get a grip. I’m always the one to walk away. It’s just what I do. Sex for me is a means of release and my main source of income. I’ve fucked dozens of women and, afterward, left them without a backward glance. No mess, no fuss, no emotions.
So why does this time bother me? I exhale and lean back on the chaise, an arm behind my head, to contemplate the novelty. Maybe because it was, by far, the hottest sex I’ve ever had. Sweet and quick with just a touch of dirty, the way I like it. If things had been different, if we were different people at a different time, I would have taken her again and again until we were both too exhausted to move. But that’s the problem. We’re not other people. She’s American royalty, and I’m the son of a murderer.
After a few minutes, I draw in a cleansing breath and get hold of my senses. What the fuck is my deal? This is the perfect scenario. She wants absolutely nothing from me, and I’m free. I’ve never been one to dwell on past mistakes. If I did, I’d be paralyzed with grief and betrayal. I believe in moving forward; it’s what has gotten me this far in life.
Feeling better, I shake off the malaise and head upstairs for a shower. Vanessa’s bedroom door is closed, and I force myself to walk past without knocking.
Vote Then Read: Volume I Page 95
