“Oh, no, no, no. Don’t you dare fall asleep on me.” The tip of his nose nuzzles my earlobe. “I’m far from done with you.”
In less than a heartbeat, he’s inside me. Adrenalin replaces the exhaustion. Our bodies slap together. Cam moves in an easy, rolling rhythm, sliding in and out in a measured dance. I cling to him with arms and legs, holding onto the last vestiges of my self-control, until I can’t tell where I end or he begins.
Chapter 20
Cam - Twelve Years Ago
VANESSA IS PLIABLE in my hands. Our bodies undulate perfectly together; she counters each of my moves with one of her own. We fit like we’re made for each other. I expected this tryst to curb my desire; I was so wrong. My hunger for her increases tenfold with every passing second.
She’s attentive and eager to please. Her hands grip my ass, nails digging into skin, making me hiss. Between moans, she peppers warm kisses along my neck, nips at my shoulder. “Tell me what to do,” she murmurs, her lips just below my ear.
“Hold onto me tight.” The feel of her arms and legs around me, drives me wild. Most of the time, I’m too concerned with the woman’s pleasure to worry about my own, but Vanessa brings a new level of experience to my arousal.
Her skin is smooth like velvet, her hair silky and soft. I bite my lower lip, trying to slow down, not wanting to hurt her, but can’t help myself. The coil of desire tightens in my groin with each thrust. I grunt like an animal.
“Ah, Cam, I’m coming.” Her body stiffens beneath me. The waves of her orgasm ripple around my cock. I throw away restraint and pound into her, hard enough to make the headboard rattle. My balls constrict, and pleasure licks along my skin. Vanessa’s fingers bite into my back. I squeeze my eyes shut, savoring the experience.
Once we’ve stopped shaking, I roll to the side and throw a forearm over my eyes. The sheets rustle to my left. Vanessa’s bare feet patter along the hardwood floor and into the adjoining bathroom. I use the opportunity to quiet my breathing. A few seconds later I hear the water running in the shower. The idea of her naked, soap suds sliding over her perfect tits, the way I’ve fantasized for the past few nights, revs my motor.
When I open the shower door, she’s standing there, glistening, rivulets of water streaming over her smooth skin. I fuck her in the shower, on the bathroom floor, and again in the bed. She’s insatiable, the first woman I’ve ever met who matches my own libido. We go on for hours, into the dawn. The pink-and-orange light of morning spills through the curtains when her breathing evens out.
I know I should go back to my room, but the bed is comfortable. Vanessa snuggles into the crook of my shoulder, her nose nestling in my neck. I’ve never actually slept with a woman. The novelty of a warm, soft body against mine is the best sedative and after a few moments, sleep closes my eyes.
We spend the next day in bed with a few breaks for sustenance. The Avondales will be back in the morning, and this fantasy will end. I try not to think about it. Instead, I concentrate all my efforts into exploring Vanessa’s mind and body.
“Why don’t you look at me?” Her question comes out of nowhere.
“What are you talking about?” With the tip of my index finger, I circle her navel.
“When we’re having sex, you never look at me.”
“I’m looking at you right now.” When I glance up at her, she’s got her lower lip trapped between her teeth.
“We’re not having sex.”
“Let me fix that.” I wedge a hand between her thighs, shifting my weight over her.
With both hands on my chest, she pushes me away. “I’m serious. You never look at me, and it’s a little disconcerting.” She crosses her arms over her chest.
I fall onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. I’m no good at sharing my feelings. To be honest, I have no idea why I do half the things I do. “It’s nothing personal.”
“Are you thinking about someone else?” For all her confidence, she’s just as insecure as the rest of us mortals. Her vulnerability twinges my sympathies and makes me like her that much more.
“Why would I be thinking about another woman when I’m with someone as awesome as you?” I roll to my side and prop my head up on my elbow.
Her shoulders lift in a shrug. She plays with the embroidered edge of the bedsheet. “I don’t know. You seem disconnected somehow.”
“You’re imagining things.” My laughter is hollow. I smooth a finger over the furrow in her brow.
“Am I?” One of her hands travels along my belly to land between my legs. She squeezes my balls gently, making me instantly hard again. “Look at me, Cam.”
I can’t. Instead, I bury my head in her neck and lick a path up to her ear.
“I mean it. Look at me.” Her hand strokes up my cock. The sensation is delicious. I squeeze my eyes shut. “What are you afraid of?”
The mattress shakes as she slides down my body. A whiff of her body lotion teases my nose. Her lips close around the head of my cock. A moan rises in my throat. Her mouth is the perfect combination of warmth and wetness. I clutch the bed until my fingers ache.
“Oh God, you’re good at this.” The muscles in my groin tighten. I’m so close to coming.
“Thanks.”
I open my eyes to find out why she stopped, but I can’t meet her gaze. If I do, she’ll see through me, and I can’t have that. She rests her chin on my chest while I stare at the ceiling. I grip both her forearms, drag her into a sitting position, then fumble for the last condom on the nightstand. She takes it from my hand, rips the packet, and drops it to the floor. I grit my teeth as she slides the condom over my shaft.
“Look at me, Cam.” Her gentle touch tips my chin.
Our eyes meet at the exact time she lowers onto my dick. My body tenses at the sensation of slick friction. I’m lost, lost in the black pools of her pupils, sinking into their depths with no hope of ever climbing back out. This is the reason I never look at the girl I’m fucking, because I can’t risk emotional attachment.
“You feel so good.” Her eyes close, and she tips her head back. This time it’s her ending the visual connection. “You’re going to ruin me for other guys, you know?”
“That’s my evil plan.” The thought of her doing this with someone else knots my stomach.
“I knew it.” A tiny smile curls her mouth before she tugs her lower lip between her teeth. She lifts then settles again. A little hum of satisfaction vibrates through her. Her breasts, perfect and round, jiggle. The way she works my cock makes me grateful for her equestrian skills. I grip her hips and drive deeper into her.
“You like that?” I ask.
“Yes. More.”
Those are the last words for either of us. Passion overtakes conversation. I sit up and wrap my arms around her waist. We writhe and twist our way into the next orgasm. She’s wild, riding me with abandon, heedless of the rickety antique bed or the noises coming from both of us.
Afterward, neither of us says anything. I pick up my clothes and head back to my room. Before I go, she presses a kiss to my cheek. I pause at the threshold for one last look at her. She’s already asleep, sprawling over the bed, the twisted sheets draped over her.
“Goodbye, princess,” I whisper and close the door behind me.
***
The Avondales return in the morning, and everything goes back to normal—almost. Vanessa and I manage to avoid each other except for meals. My traitorous subconscious, however, can’t let go. My dreams are plagued by sinful scenarios: her on top, me on top, doggy style in the kitchen, missionary on the floor, reverse cowgirl in the gazebo. To relieve my tension, I jack off in the shower to fantasies of Vanessa’s plump lips wrapped around my cock.
At lunch on Friday, I sit across the table and try not to look at her. Her bare leg grazes mine beneath the table. She gasps. I jump, my skin prickling, my knee jostling the table. Everyone looks at me.
“What was that?” Tristan’s eyebrows lift.
“Are you okay?” Trish a
sks Vanessa. Her eyes narrow, and her gaze bounces between us.
“Yes. Fine.” Vanessa drops her gaze to her plate, but her lips curve into a secretive smile.
“Muscle spasm,” I say.
Thankfully, I’m saved by an urgent text. The name on the message puts my life back into perspective. Mrs. Avondale glares at the intrusion. Cell phones are strictly forbidden at meals.
“I’m sorry, but I need to take this,” I say and excuse myself from the table. Vanessa doesn’t look up or acknowledge my apology. She’s too busy staring at her tuna salad. From the safety of my bedroom, I hit redial.
“Cam? Oh, thank goodness.” The answering female voice is smooth, low, and sophisticated with a hint of Boston accent. “Darling, why haven’t you answered my calls?”
“I’m on vacation, remember?”
“I know, darling. I know. I wouldn’t have called you if it wasn’t important.”
Instantly, I put on my business hat. She’s a good customer. “What can I do for you, Kate?”
“I need a favor. Can you come home next week? I’m going to the Bahamas for a few days and need some company.”
“We talked about this, and we both agreed to take the summer off.” I lie down on the bed and stare at the ceiling while my wallet wars with my gut. As much as I like Kate and her money, she’s becoming a little too attached to me. I am, after all, her employee and not her boyfriend. On the other hand, my bank account is steadily dwindling, and my scholarship ended last semester.
“Yes, we did, but the summer is almost over, isn’t it? And no one makes me come like you do, Cam.” Her voice lowers, dripping with honey. I’m not fooled. Kate is used to getting her way and likes to control the people around her, including me.
“It’s June,” I say.
Vanessa and Trish banter as they pass my room. Everything south of my belt buckle tenses at the sound of Vanessa’s voice. Her door opens and closes. Light footsteps traverse the floor, followed by the rush of running water from the shower. Christ, she’s naked and less than a dozen feet away. It takes all my considerable self-control to keep from striding into the bathroom and taking her soapy body one last time.
I shove a hand through my hair. “Okay. Text me the details.”
Kate purrs in approval. “Wonderful. I promise to make it worth your while.”
In the morning, I grab my duffel and head to the door. Vanessa is standing in the foyer with Trish, planning their day. Our eyes meet. I look quickly away.
“You’re leaving?” Trish frowns and places a hand on her hip.
“Yes, something came up.” No matter how hard I try, I can’t ignore the pull of Vanessa’s gaze. We stare at each other. A dozen inadequate statements race through my head.
“It was nice to meet you.” Vanessa gives me a brief smile. An unfamiliar sense of regret washes through me. In my gut, I know I’m never going to see her again.
“You too.” Tristan thunders down the stairs, jumping down the last three steps, and lands with a thud at my side.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I reply, even though it’s a lie. If things were different—if I was someone else—I’d stay and spend every minute with Vanessa. But I’m not. I’m a paid escort from the wrong side of the tracks, and she’s an American princess.
Chapter 21
Cam - Today
WHEN THE DOOR closes behind Vanessa, the lid comes off my temper. I throw the first thing I see against the wall, a black vase. It shatters into tiny pieces. I always hated that thing anyway. Then I proceed to pace the length of my office a dozen times. Who does she think she’s messing with? I’m Cameron Blackwood—rich, successful, powerful. Being around her reduces my composure to shreds, muddies my thoughts, and plays havoc with my emotions. I don’t like being out of control.
I dial Tristan’s extension. “Get down here.”
“What’s wrong?” He’s alert, knowing my moods better than anyone.
“Just get down here. We’re pulling out of Seaforth Media. ASAP.”
I stare out the window at the city. New York is my home, but Laurel Falls has been my headquarters for the past five years. The street below teems with activity: road construction, tourists, traffic. My office is silent, insulated from the noise. I lean my forehead against the glass and wonder if the struggle to the top has been worth it. The upper-class still treats me like a man-whore, my father is still a murderer, and aside from a dozen overflowing bank accounts, I’m still Cameron Blackwood. Money changed nothing but the size of my apartment and the number of automobiles in my garage.
The doors slide open. I turn, expecting Tristan, finding Vanessa instead. I open my mouth to give her a piece of my mind, but she raises a hand. I’ve never seen her like this—green eyes blazing, shoulders tense, chin high.
“Miss me already?” I ask, my words acidic.
“I wasn’t finished. You don’t get to toss me out like that.”
One of my assistants trots after her. “I’m sorry, Mr. Blackwood. She wouldn’t stop. Would you like me to call security?”
I raise a hand. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll show Ms. Seaforth out myself.” In two strides, I’m at Vanessa’s side, her elbow in my grip.
“I’m not going anywhere. Not until you hear me out.” Vanessa’s voice is low, commanding, and hard as steel. “I don’t know what you imagined just happened, but you’re way off base.”
“Leave us.” My assistant backs out of the door. I stare down at Vanessa. “I’ve heard enough of your bullshit.”
She struggles against my hold. I wrap an arm around her waist and tug her to my chest. The round, soft mounds of her breasts mold to my chest. Years have passed, but the attraction is still there. Anger vibrates through every inch of her body. I hate myself for still wanting her, almost as much as I hate her for coming back into my life.
“If you want me, you can have me. We can do it right here.” She’s no longer struggling.
The woman in my arms is powerful and in control, even though I’m twice her size. The thought of bending her over my desk, propping her round ass in the air, and taking her from behind unleashes a hidden treasure trove of desire. I let go but don’t step away. She raises a hand like she’s going to slap me but grips the back of my neck instead. Our mouths snap together like magnets. My hands go to her bottom and squeeze, pressing her hips into mine. A growl rumbles through her.
Her kiss is punishing, brutal, just the way I like it. She takes my mouth with hers, plunges her tongue against mine, daring me to submit. My dick stirs to life, lengthening between us. One step forward shifts the balance of power from her to me. I tug the pins from her hair and dig my fingers into the silky strands, tilting her head back, exposing her throat. She’s vulnerable like this, completely at my mercy. My senses are on fire with the sweetness of her scent, the softness of her curves.
“You’re over your head here, princess.” I nip the column of her neck, just below her chin. Her skin tastes like honey. “Don’t come into my office and kiss me like that and think you’re going to walk away without getting fucked.”
“I’m already fucked.” Her ribs swell and contract with each harsh breath. Lipstick smears across her mouth. The stubble of my jaw leaves her smooth complexion reddened. “By you and Giles and this damn business.”
“Did you ever think maybe you’re not cut out for this? Maybe you need to go back to Paris, play housewife, have more babies.” A glance down at her heaving breasts gives me a peek of the black lace bra beneath her blouse. My thoughts tumble over each other. Desire blurs with anger. She should have been my wife. Those should have been my babies.
“Why do you want to hurt me?” With both hands, she pushes against my chest.
“Not everything is about you, princess.” I release her and run both hands through my hair. This situation has gotten out of hand. I’m ashamed by my lack of restraint, the sharp edge of my words, the way my body reacts whenever she’s around. “You’re not worth the trouble.�
�
She glances at my crotch, to the visible erection behind my zipper, and flushes an adorable shade of pink. After a deep inhale, she straightens her jacket and smooths a hand over her hair. A wall of calm washes over her. “I came back to tell you that you can take Seaforth Media and shove it. No one treats me like that. Not you. Not anyone.”
“I’ll be sure to get right on that,” I say, living up to my reputation as an asshole. I want to laugh at the sheer absurdity of the moment, but there’s nothing amusing about it. Instead, I lean back on the desk and cross my arms over my chest. Inside, I’m shaken to the core. I’m not over her, not by a longshot, and it pisses me off.
She waves a hand in front of the doors then scans the wall for a way to open them. I watch, biting my lower lip to hold back a chuckle. She’s too proud to ask for help. After a sigh of exasperation, groans in exasperation. “Really, Cam?”
I press the button on my desk. The doors slide and open and she walks out of my life—again.
Chapter 22
Vanessa - Today
WHEN I GET back to my office, I ask Elena and Ivan to cancel my calls for the next hour. I need time to regroup. Like my pride, my lips are still tender and swollen from kissing Cam. I don’t know what came over me. The sight of his handsome, arrogant face, taunting me, sent me over the edge. If he hadn’t heeded my pleas to stop, I would have torn his clothes off and screwed him on his desk.
Once I’ve gathered my composure, I begin damage control. There was always a chance that Cameron would pull out, but I thought I could bring him around. I replay our conversation over and over in my head. You haven’t done your homework. What does that mean? Did I miss something in the contract? My head throbs until my temples burn. Two aspirin and a glass of water do nothing to dispel the ache.
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