Twister: Party Games, Book 3

by Lexxie Couper

  Two shuffling step later and they both hit the ground, their laughter floating on the silent air, the ball forgotten. Cameron pushed herself up on her elbows, puffing at the tousled strands of her hair now dangling over her face. “You’re right.” She shook her head, grinning. “You do suck.”

  He laughed, rolling onto his back to thread his fingers behind his head. “Told you so.” His smile stretched wider. “Good thing I exhibited a head for business at an early age, yes?”

  She dropped back to the ground beside him, threading her fingers on the flat plane of her belly. The grass was soft beneath her, the blades tickling the back of her thighs. She bent her legs, resting her right calf on her left knee. “Yes. You could say that.”

  He chuckled at her quick agreement, the sound a low caress beside her. “Don’t care about offending me or anything, will you.”

  She smiled, letting her gaze wander through the stars above them. “I’ll try not to.”

  He snorted. “You’re not very good for my ego.”

  Rolling her head to the side, she gave him a broad smirk. “You’re welcome.”

  The comment made him laugh and his gaze never left her face. “Tease.”

  The pit of Cameron’s belly fluttered a little at the word, her pussy echoing the sentiment.

  A long second stretched between them, Cameron incapable of tearing her stare from Lachlan.

  Did she even want to?

  Her heart quickened. No, she didn’t. She wanted to look at him. She wanted to keep looking at him as he rose from the ground and covered her body with his. She wanted to gaze into his eyes as he slowly undressed her and buried his length into her—

  “So tell me,” he said, his voice low and somewhat unsteady, “what’s the story with the Mini? It’s not the kind of car I’d expect a super model to be driving.”

  Her breath slipped from her in a hitching laugh at the unexpected question. She rolled her head away from him and cast the dark shape of her car sitting in the car park a long look. Her heart hammered in her throat. Her sex throbbed. She wanted him to make love to her. So badly she ached. Wanted him to make love to her as the joy of their laughter still warmed her. Licking her lips, she studied her Mini. It represented her new life. Her true life. Did she tell him that?

  “After I stopped modeling I took up restoring old cars. Classic junkers mainly. MGs, old Jags, the odd Torana. The Mini over there was my first. I found it in a junkyard up the coast, paid two hundred bucks for it and hired a garage spot to work on it.” She turned back to him, finding him on his side watching her, his head resting in his hand. “By the time I finished, I was hooked.”

  A quiet intensity shone in Lachlan’s eyes. “And that’s all you did? Work on cars? Or did you become Cam, the secretive photographer, as well?”

  Her belly knotted and she returned her stare to the stars. “No. Cam the secretive photographer came a few years later. After I completed a degree in photography via correspondence.”

  “So holed up in a garage, studying by correspondence and closed-set photography shoots. Can I ask what’s the reason you keep away from people?”

  His question twisted her already tight stomach into a tighter knot. “You can ask,” she said, surprised at how steady her voice sounded. “But I won’t answer.”

  She couldn’t. It was too…

  Embarrassing? Traumatic? Tormenting?

  Personal. Too personal. She’d spent seventeen years of her life keeping the world at bay. She wasn’t ready to open herself up to it again, no matter how much she’d laughed with Lachlan on this field. No matter how much she wanted to make love to him.

  “Does the way you reacted to the dickhead back at the party have anything to do with it?” Anger cut Lachlan’s calm voice, controlled and cold but anger all the same.

  Cameron rolled her head, giving him a steady look. “It does.”

  The admission surprised her. She hadn’t expected it. Nor did she expect the gentle touch of his fingers on her jaw as he cupped her face and traced his thumb over her bottom lip. “Is it clichéd of me to say I wish I could take away your pain?”

  Her breath caught at his question. “It is if you don’t—”

  She didn’t finish. Lachlan’s lips gently brushing hers stopped her words.

  He was kissing her again.

  There was nothing aggressive or demanding or dominating about it. His lips explored hers with gentle hesitancy, not so much taking but questioning, waiting to see what she would do, how she would react. He rested his hand on the side of her face, his thumb on her cheekbone, his fingers on her temple. And that was it, the only physical contact of his body on hers—lips, thumb and fingertips. Not even his tongue touched her flesh.

  A sweet, unassuming kiss was of such tenderness it was all she could do not to whimper. It was singularly the most exquisite kiss Cameron had ever experienced.

  She wanted it never to end. Just as she wanted so much more.

  Chapter Five

  She was sweetness and softness and smoldering sensuality. She was sin and temptation and vice. She was the fire and the tinder that feed the flame. He’d wanted her for a lifetime. Dreamt of her. Ached for her. Since his balls dropped and his voice cracked, Kole had been his fantasy. And now he was kissing that fantasy and the name Kole never entered Lachlan’s head.

  Cameron.

  A woman he’d never anticipated. Strong and independent and yet at the same time….what? Fragile? No, that wasn’t right. Vulnerable? Wounded?

  Maybe all three. Whatever it was, the driving desire he’d held for her as a hormonally controlled teenager faded to nothing. Hell, the driving lust he’d felt for her back at the party seemed like an insignificant schoolyard crush compared to what he was feeling now. Now, with her soft lips brushing against his, with her warm breath tickling his tongue, the sheer intensity of his desire for her made his heart slam in his chest. With this one almost chaste kiss, his blood roared in his ears, his head swam with pleasure and every molecule in his body thrummed with elemental need.

  Christ, how did he walk away from this?

  Walk away? Are you a fucking idiot?

  The question should have unnerved him. It should have sent disarming ice to his straining, throbbing cock. It didn’t.

  He slipped his tongue over the soft fullness of Cameron’s bottom lip, loving the way she whimpered at the caress. She found the open collar of his shirt with her fingers and slipped them over the base of his throat. His cock throbbed in his jeans, her touch close to undoing him. There was nothing overt about it, just Cameron’s fingertips feathering over his skin, but it made the already hot blood in his veins turn molten. She’d touched him. After everything he’d said to her at the party, after his contemptuous slur of her profession, her former life, after the way she’d reacted to the dickhead in the foyer, after the fear in her eyes at the man’s touch…she was responding to Lachlan.

  If his lips weren’t so thoroughly engaged with tasting hers, he’d smile.

  Christ, walk away? From this? The thought wasn’t even worth considering.

  He dipped his tongue past her lips, flicking it over her teeth. She whimpered again at the deeper exploration of her mouth and slid her fingers up to his jaw. She stroked his cheek, the caress growing more urgent as his tongue took greater control of the kiss. When he smoothed his hand from her face, down her chest to capture her breast, the whimpers in her throat turned to a long moan.

  Her nipple beaded under his palm, the cool silver of her shirt doing nothing to hide its receptive response. He dragged his thumb pad over its tip, rolling his tongue against hers as he did so. She moaned again, burying her hand in his hair.

  The sound of her pleasure made him groan in return. He wanted her so damn much he could barely draw breath. The softness of her small breast under his hand, the tightness of her nipple, the warm pleasure of her kiss, all told him she was aroused as well. But he wanted her to make the next move. After the events leading up to this wonderful moment,
he needed her to make the next move. To know she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

  To know they were equal in their pleasure and desire.

  Equal? Since when do you ever care about anyone being your equal?

  Never. Until this one woman. Cameron. The woman who was nothing like his fantasy and everything like his true wish.

  His head spun. His cock jerked. Fresh blood surged through its turgid length, turning it to an aching rod. The insistent need to bury it into her hot wetness screamed at him with silent urgency. He ignored it, barely.

  Her move. Her control.

  Her want.

  Her pleasure.

  She was in control of it all.

  As if aware of his surrender, Cameron fisted her hand in his hair. She tugged his head closer to hers, her tongue seeking his with greater hunger. He gave it to her, reveling in her growing ferocity. She moaned again, smoothing one long leg against his. The contact sent fissures of white-hot pleasure through Lachlan and he growled his desire into her mouth. She pressed her hips upward at the sound, her heel dragging down the back of his thigh, over his calf until the curve of her pussy was dangerously close to his straining dick. For a split second, her warmth brushed his erection, an infinitesimal caress that made Lachlan suck in a swift breath. Fuck, it felt so damn good. What would it be like without clothes to separate them?

  The urge to flatten her to her back, to strip her and cover her body with his, smashed through him. An urge he would have willingly obeyed before. With any other sexual partner, he was the one in charge. That Cameron was now, that he wanted her to be… The unfamiliar desire was both electrifying and daunting.

  And arousing.

  Christ, he didn’t just want her, he wanted to surrender to her. To be hers as much as she was his.

  His?

  Yes, his.

  He growled again. She was his. Not just on this field, but after. In his bed. In his kitchen. His car. Her living room. They would spend hours and hours, days and days exploring their pleasure, their need together. And when those hours and days were finished, they’d start time again.

  The surety of the notion made his heart thump and his cock spasm. He plunged his tongue deeper into her mouth and captured hers. If he didn’t, he feared he would say something stupid like, “I’m never letting you go.” Or, “I’m yours forever.”

  And still their kiss grew hungrier. Cameron thrust her hips upward, her sex pushing closer and closer to his trapped erection. Her hand left his hair, raking over his shoulders to pull him down to her. Her leg wrapped his thigh and finally, his cock pressed to her soft mound.

  He couldn’t stop his groan. It ripped from his throat, raw and greedy.

  Cameron tore her lips from his. For a still moment, she stared up at him, the pale light of the moon bathing her beautiful face in the softest of silver, illuminating her undeniable pleasure, her unspoken desire.

  Lachlan gazed back at her, wanting her to say what her face, what her eyes told him. Wanting her to vocalize how undone she was by this moment. Needing her to say how much she wanted him.

  God help him, if she did he’d never be able to control himself.

  She didn’t. Not with words. Instead, she hooked her fingers under the shimmery silver of her shirt and pulled it up over her head.

  Oh fuck me.

  The crass, course thought razed through Lachlan’s head. His stare roamed the perfection of her exposed breasts, the flawless expanse of her flat belly and back to her breasts again. Her nipples were small and dark, their tips puckered and demanding his tongue.

  He swallowed, his throat suddenly thick.

  All he had to do was lower his head and her breasts were his, to lick and suck and bite. Every fibre in his body was crying out for him to do so. Every muscle coiled tight with the command. So why wasn’t he?

  He lifted his gaze to her face, to her eyes.

  “Are you sure?”

  The question fell from his lips on a hoarse whisper. He’d never asked a lover, or anyone else for that matter, such a question. What did that mean?

  Cameron’s lips, now swollen and glistening from their kiss, curled into a small smile. A shy smile. Not the smile of the confident supermodel he’d first met under the trees. Not the smile of the sex goddess who’d teased him about a car parking space. Not the smile of the teasing vixen of the Twister mat.

  A shy smile that flooded his cock with new desire and hot pleasure.

  “I’m sure.” Her answer wasn’t shy. Nor was her voice soft.

  And it was all Lachlan needed to hear.

  He dropped his head and captured one nipple with his lips, sucking on its puckered form. His hand roamed her bare torso, cupping and kneading the breast on which he feasted, exploring her hitching belly, smoothing the back of her long firm thigh.

  Cameron let out a whimpering sigh, the sound a potent caress on his senses. She scraped her fingers over his back, up into his hair. She held his head to her breast, arching beneath him as he suckled harder. Her pussy pressed harder to his dick, her heat burning his flesh even through their clothes.

  Christ, he wanted to be inside her.

  Dragging his hand lower over her belly, he slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of her skirt. She shifted beneath him, granting his hand easier access to what he sought. Her heat.

  “Oh, yes.”

  The words left her on a murmur as his fingers found her pussy lips. They were slick with moisture and warm with pleasure. He parted them with one finger, dipping its length into her tightness beyond. She sucked in a swift breath, lifting her hips into the slow penetration.

  His head swam. The wet grip on his finger was intoxicating. He delved deeper, a wriggling investigation that made Cameron moan. The licentious sound wasn’t enough. He wanted to hear more from her. His name. Uttered with complete pleasure. He twisted his wrist, enough to allow him to slide another finger into her sex.

  “Yes, that’s it. So good…”

  Her voice was husky. He lifted his head from her breast, needing to see her face. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted. He scissored his fingers inside her, watching the pleasure he gave her echo in her expression. She caught her bottom lip with her teeth, her eyes closing tighter, her cheeks growing flushed.

  Raw pleasure. That’s what it was. Nothing contrived. The face of a woman consumed by raw pleasure.

  He loved it. Loved that he was the cause of it. Loved that she awoke the same rapture in him. What would it be like when he was surrounded by her?

  Heaven. Bliss.

  Perfection.

  He lowered his head to her other breast, flicking his tongue over her taut nipple as he stroked his fingers inside her feminine sheath.

  She whimpered, dragging her nails over his shoulders. “So good…” She shifted beneath him, spreading her thighs wider. Her skirt bunched upward, the action pulling on the back of his hand. His fingers withdrew a little from her pussy and he used it to advantage, rolling her clit—swollen and fat with desire—under his index finger.

  “Oh God.” Cameron bucked, her hips jerking upward as she stiffened. “Oh God, yes.”

  He teased the tiny nub of sensitive flesh, sucking on her breast in alternating rhythms of pressure. She writhed on the grass, scraping at his shoulder, his back, his shoulders again.

  “Don’t stop,” she begged, shoving her sex harder against his hand. “Inside me. Please, be inside me.”

  Lachlan’s blood roared in his ears at her plea. His pulse pounded. His erection throbbed. He didn’t know if she meant his fingers again or his cock, but gave her his fingers. He wanted to make her come at least once with his hand before he buried himself in her heat. He wanted to show her the pleasure he could give her. The unequivocal pleasure.

  He wanted to hear his name burst from her throat as her cream painted his palm. And then, as her climax claimed her body, he’d fill her with his engorged cock and make her his.

  He stroked his fingers in and out of her tight passage, thum
bing her clit as he did so. Her nipple pinched tighter against his tongue, the tip of flesh reacting to his touch. He suckled harder, the warmth of her breast on his chin driving his aching need closer to obsession. What was it about Cameron that affected him so?

  He didn’t know. And he wanted to.

  Pulling his mouth from her breast, he lifted his head and stared down into her face. Her eyes were still closed, the silvery moonlight casting her in an almost ethereal glow.

  Christ, she is a goddess.

  Lachlan’s cock jerked with hungry lust at the thought. His goddess. He’d never ached for someone with such possessive need, nor wanted to give them such pleasure. He took pleasure from his lovers and gave it, but this…this was…different. This was—

  “Oh Lachlan,” she whispered, “I’m going to come. Please, if you don’t stop I’m going to come.”

  “Then come. Come for me, babe.”

  He drove his fingers deeper into her sex, loving the way she opened her eyes and gazed at him with utter rapture. She fisted her hands in his hair, a shudder rocking through her. Her sex squeezed his fingers, tight pulses that told him her release was taking her.

  She sucked in breath after breath, her stare locked on his. As if she couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing the man who’d made her come. He understood. There wasn’t a hope in hell of him tearing his gaze from her face. Not when such open, honest rapture burned within its beauty. Not when the only sound she made as her climax throbbed through her was the softest whimper of his name over and over again.

  “Lachlan,” her breath was rapid, shallow, “Lachlan, Lachlan…”

  Enrapt, he drank in the sight of her release, his hand cupping her pussy, his fingers stroking more and more pleasure from her. For a giddy moment, he feared he was about to come himself. His balls rose, a searing pressure stabbing into the base of his spine. His climax was close. He wouldn’t be able to hold out for much longer. He’d denied himself for too long tonight and the scent of Cameron’s release on the night air, the moans of her pleasure, the sheer need in her eyes…it was a tsunami of sensory torment he could fight no more.