“Cam, are you—”
The next page on the news app gave her another headline—Media Mogul Caught With A Handful of Kole. Not as snarky as the previous, but catchy nonetheless, especially when attached to an image that, despite being darker than the others, no doubt had Lachlan’s hand buried between her thighs as he sucked on her—
“Cam? Will you freaking well talk to me?”
Lillian’s shout pierced Cameron’s roaring mind. She blinked, gaping at the image of her and Lachlan in such an erotic position. Her pulse pounded in her tight throat, her nipples straining tips of sensitive flesh pushing against the silk of her robe, her pussy…
Oh Lord, help her.
She threw her iPad aside, not wanting to see what it told her. Not wanting to believe her reaction to it. Turned on. She was turned on by the images of Lachlan making love to her. More turned on than she could imagine. So turned on if she slipped her fingers to her sex, they’d come back slicked with her juices.
How could that be?
“Will you speak to him, please? Or if he’s asleep—”
The last part of Lillian’s question smacked through Cameron’s stunned confusion. She blinked again, frowning at the Triumph. “If who’s asleep?”
“Lachlan,” Lillian said, her brother’s name clear and unmistakable. “If he’s asleep, don’t wake him, but when he does wake up, can you tell him I’ll clean the house? Top to bottom?”
Cameron frowned. “He’s not here.”
“What do you mean he’s not there?” Surprise laced Lillian’s voice. “He’s not at home. I just called there. So I kinda gathered he’d be with you.”
Cameron swallowed. With her. Oh, if only it was that simple. Her cheeks prickled with a disturbing heat. Her nipples pinched harder. She shook her head, gripping her phone tighter. “He’s not, Lil. In fact, I don’t think—”
A sharp buzz made her freeze. Someone was at her front gate.
“Hold on, Lil,” she muttered, scrambling to her feet. Her home’s state-of-the-art security system meant no one could get past the high wrought-iron gate without her releasing the locking mechanism, and she wouldn’t do that unless she knew them. Like her phone number, five people knew her private address. One of them was on the phone to her now and the other four people were her lawyer, her green grocer—who had no idea she was anyone apart from Cameron Winters, grime-covered car freak, the young teenager girl from down the street who watered her plants whenever she was out of town on an extended photo shoot and a very special police officer stationed at the Inner Sydney City Command. It was too early for any kind of delivery, ignoring the fact it was Sunday, which could only mean one thing. The press had tracked her down.
Cameron’s chest squeezed tight. She crossed to the one-way video intercom at her front door, hitting the button that would let her see who was at her gate.
She let out a shocked whimper.
Lachlan stood there, his hair a tousled mess, his jaw dark with growth, his eyes looking straight into her soul through the video link.
He was here. At her home. He was at her home.
“Is everything okay, Cam?”
Lil’s voice jerked Cameron back from her hypnotized inspection of the media mogul. She swallowed, unable to tear her gaze from him. “Err…”
She watched Lachlan raise his hand and press a finger to the intercom and flinched when the buzzer sounded again.
She flinched. Caught her breath. Pressed her thighs together in a lame, futile attempt to stem the wanton, damp throb growing between them.
She stared into his face through the CCTV fed, her heart racing.
And, before she could stop herself, or even consider her actions, she pressed the button on the security system’s primary control panel that released the gates lock.
“Tell me who the fuck it is?” Lil almost screeched.
“It’s…” She couldn’t say his name. Not yet. She gripped the phone like it was a lifeline. And it was. At the moment, the only thing stopping her from throwing herself at Lachlan the second she opened the door was his half-sister on the other end of a phone connection.
Lord help her, here she went again with the lameness.
“Who is it, Cam? Please tell me?”
“It’s…” She stopped. Swallowed. Her breath was rapid. Shallow.
What was she doing? What was she hoping to achieve?
Cameron didn’t know.
And then there was a single knock on the door in front of her and her heart smashed into her throat, her blood roared in her ears and she didn’t have any longer to consider an answer.
She pulled on the handle.
His stare was on her face before she could finish opening the solid steel door, his nostril flaring, his eyes burning. “Who are you on the phone with?”
The question, uttered with calm control, made Cameron’s pulse race faster. Or perhaps it was the raw hunger in his eyes, the undeniable desire. Or maybe it was the way he looked this close—like he’d been through hell and back, his hair as disheveled as his shirt was crumpled, his jaw unshaven, his Adam’s apple jerking up and down in his throat. A man of contradiction.
“Lillian.” His sister’s name slipped from Cameron’s lips.
“What?” Lil asked in her ear. “Who is…”
Cameron didn’t hear the rest.
Jaw muscles bunching, Lachlan destroyed the distance between them in one step, gently plucked the phone from her hand and pressed it to his ear. “You have some explaining to do later, sis. As does Harris.”
Whether Lillian answered, Cameron didn’t know. Lachlan disconnected the line with a swipe of his thumb and deposited the phone on the table beside the door. All without breaking eye contact.
Oh Lord, had she really thought talking on the phone to his sister was going to protect her?
She had. Which was stupid.
“This is never going to work, Lachlan.” She shook her head, gazing into his eyes. Her belly twisted. Her pussy contracted. Oh, the promises she saw in his eyes. “The press and paparazzi will never leave you, never leave us alone.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he took the last remaining step into her home, a place so few people had ever entered, and closed the door behind him.
Cameron’s heart slammed harder against her breastbone. She wanted to be angry at his arrogance, but she couldn’t. She was too damned aroused. Too damned happy he’d come for her.
Too damned stupid.
“You’ve seen the images?” His question sent squirming tension through her body. The junction of her thighs grew damp. His gaze didn’t let her go.
She nodded, wishing she had the strength to step back. No good could come of this. She knew that. But she couldn’t move.
His nostrils flared. “And did they turn you on?”
Her breath slipped from her in a low moan.
“Because they sure as hell turned me on.”
An exquisite spasm claimed Cameron’s pussy at his guttural proclamation, so powerful, so wanton, it was all she could do to stay on her feet.
“I came here with the intention of telling you all sorts of things, Cameron.” His voice was a low, deep caress on her senses. “Things that need to be said. Things like how I’ve wanted you since I was a teenager, but now I’ve had you, I know it’s the real woman I want, not the model. Things like how narrow-minded I’ve been about your work, about Lil’s career and how sorry I am for behaving like a wanker last night. Things like how clear and dry my future was, my goals were, until I met you. But the second you opened the door, in that robe…” He stopped, his throat working as he raked a slow inspection over her body, the skin around his nostrils tight as he sucked in a ragged breath. “God help me, babe, I want to be a higher mammal here, I want to be an evolved member of my gender, but when you’re standing in front of me looking like that…”
The rest of the sentence was lost to a choked groan. He stared at her, torment and desire and something else she couldn’t fathom, an infern
o in his eyes.
And when he lifted his hand and placed it on the side of her throat, when he slipped his other hand between the silken edges of her robe and smoothed his palm over her bare ribcage and behind her back, when he pulled her against his body and took her lips with his, she didn’t stop him.
She kissed him back.
She kissed him with all the desire and need and aching hunger in her heart, her body, her soul.
Her tongue touched his. No, not just touched, mated. Her tongue mated with his, wild and untamed in its strokes. Lachlan groaned into her mouth, hauling her harder to his body as he met her fierce passion with his own. He’d kissed her many times last night, but none meant what this kiss meant. This kiss spoke the words his mind had only barely begun to fathom—he was in love with her. On every level. He lusted after her, desired her, ached for her and existed for her. This kiss told him all those things and more. After a night of stalking around his empty house, of pondering the future he’d planned for himself and realizing how shallow and empty that future was—one devoid of emotional attachments beyond his sister and Mac—this kiss told him exactly what his future now was. Cameron, a quiet house on a quiet street, a lifetime of passion and love and laughter, a future where he may coach a little league soccer team or chauffeur a little ballerina to and from her class, or maybe even both. A future he’d never considered possible for Lachlan McDermott, media mogul, until Cameron Winters entered his life.
Cameron. Not Kole.
And now that future was here, in his mind, he knew beyond doubt it was the only future he wanted.
Which made him want to kiss Cameron even more.
Kiss her and make love to her and tell her everything in his mind and heart.
But when she kissed him like she did now, the firm length of her body pressed to his with such undeniable need, her fingers tangled in his hair, her tongue stroking his… Words would come later.
After he’d given her all the pleasure one man could. And then more.
He smoothed his hand down her back, the satiny quality of her skin under his palm sending shards of tight heat into his already rigid cock. There wasn’t a hope in hell Cameron could miss his erection. He didn’t think his dick had ever felt so hard, so thick, so long. One touch of her fingers on his shaft and he’d come. Hell, one touch of his own fingers on the rigid organ and he’d likely blow his load. How the hell he was going to release it from his jeans without embarrassing himself was beyond him, but he didn’t care. If he came straight away he’d be hard again in moments. He didn’t doubt that. His passion for Cameron was so absolute all it would take was one breath of her scent, one taste of her lips and he’d be ready to go again.
Sliding his fingers over her arse, he pulled her closer, his balls throbbing. Liquid steel pumped into his dick. Her flesh was heaven in his palm and he groaned, massaging the toned cheek with growing urgency.
Cameron echoed his moan, her hips pushing forward. She ground the curve of her sex to his bulging groin, the insistent pressure on his cock one part bliss, one part torture, equal parts perfection.
Tearing his mouth from her lips, he scored a line over her jaw, down her throat and back up to her ear. “Christ, I want to be inside you,” he groaned. “I want to fill you, stretch you, until our bodies are one.”
His cock jerked in his jeans at the raw confession. He’d never spoken with such base truth during intimacy before. It was cathartic. Fresh heat surged through him. His breath quickened and his pulse pounded in his neck.
“Lachlan…” His name sounded like a whimper in Cameron’s throat. It was an exquisitely erotic sound. He loved it. He wanted to hear it again.
Dragging his hand lower on her backside, he yanked her leg upward, driving his still-constrained erection closer to her pussy. “I want to make you come, babe.” He nibbled the fleshy pad of her earlobe with a not-so-gentle bite. “Over and over.”
She moaned, sinking her nails into his shoulders. “Oh, yes.”
He flicked his tongue into her ear, snared the back of her thigh and pulled her leg higher as he did so. His cock, straining against the denim of his jeans, ground to her sex and he couldn’t miss the damp heat of the contact. She was wet for him. Hot and wet and ready.
But he wanted to give her more. And he wanted to hear her whimper his name again. Wanted to hear her lust for him as much as he wanted to make her explode with it. “I want to lay you out on your bed and pump into you until you beg me to stop.”
She scraped her nails at his back, her breath hitching in shallow gasps. “Please…”
He nipped at the sensitive spot below her ear, inched his fingertip closer to the velvet lips of her pussy. “I want to bend you over the kitchen bench and fuck your sweet, sweet cunt with my tongue.”
She let out a low moan. “Oh God, I want that…”
He stroked the tip of his index finger over her seam, the slick cream of her pleasure making his cock not just ache, but burn with the need to slide into her. “I want to make love to you, Cameron,” he whispered against her throat, travelling the bowed column up to her jaw, her lips. “I want to make you cry out my name. I want to make you come. I want to make you mine.”
“Oh God,” she whimpered, rolling her hips to his. “Oh God, Lachlan, yes, yes.” The sound of his name falling from her lips pushed him over the edge of his control.
He dragged his hands over her naked body beneath the black silk robe. A tremor shuddered through her, her nipples puckering at his hand’s coarse touch. She rolled her head, granting his lips her bowed throat. He took it, sucking on her flesh like a cheesy B-Grade-movie vampire. The uncouth love bite would leave a mark, but he didn’t care. She was his and he wanted the world to know it. And with the raw groan vibrating deep in her chest as he sucked harder on her skin, with the way her nails raked at his back and her hips drove into his, she wanted it too.
It made his head swim with concentrated rapture.
And then she reached for his fly.
Oh no.
A world of memories crashed over him: his own hand wrapped around his engorged dick, his stare locked on the poster of Kole on his wall, his stepmother catching him, taunting him, teasing him…
Cameron began to lower his zipper.
Oh fuck, fuck, she’s going to, she’s going to…
Lachlan froze. For one split second, he was the teenage boy trapped by his hormones, his fantasy, his life. He felt his balls swell with urgent heat, felt his cock spasm. He sucked in a sharp breath, wanting to stop Cameron. Wanting to help her. Christ, he was a man, a man, not a boy. He was…he was…
His cock sprung free of his lowered fly, jutting straight up, and Cameron’s fingers found it.
“Oh my God, Lachlan,” she whispered, her gaze finding his eyes, her fingers wrapping his length with such exquisite pressure he couldn’t draw breath. “You are huge.”
Pleasure so raw and elemental and primitive surged through him at her words, her touch. It rendered him incapable of controlling the uncontrollable. His desire for her.
He came.
Without warning, he came, his seed erupting from his dick like a goddamn geyser, covering Cameron’s fingers, the back of her hand, her stomach in the thick white wads.
He came. Like a teenage boy.
And the moment he did, Cameron dropped to her knees and took his spurting, leaking, pulsating cock in her mouth.
And his orgasm continued to claim him.
Chapter Eight
Lachlan’s release flowed down Cameron’s throat. It was salty and sweet and thick and she swallowed it all. Her heart slammed in her chest, a frantic tattoo she felt all the way through her body, her core, through the centre of her femininity and in the very junction of her thighs. Her clit throbbed. Her pussy contracted. With every jerking pump of Lachlan’s cock in her mouth, she drew closer to her own release.
The surreal notion rolled over her. She was going to orgasm for no other reason than the fact she’d made Lachlan come with just a
single touch.
Was that even possible?
Yes, it was. With this man, everything was possible. How could it not be when the very substance of her sexuality, her sensuality, responded to him so powerfully?
She raked her hands over his jean-clad thighs, hooked her fingers under his loose waistband and inched his jeans down over his hips, feasting on his cock and his pleasure as she did so. He bucked into her mouth and his fingers knotted in her hair, his groans a carnal soundtrack she’d never tire of hearing.
When his legs were free of clothing, she smoothed her hands back up his bare thighs, loving the way his hair rasped against her fingers. His legs were long and lean and muscular. Strength without overt power. Her pussy constricted at their latent steel and she drew her lips lower down his length. His pleasure still flowed into her mouth, spurts of release growing farther apart. She took it all, wanting to show him how much his early orgasm affected her.
“Cam…” he groaned, his fingers tightening in her hair, his flat stomach hitching against her forehead. “Babe…I’m sorry…I didn’t…”
She danced her fingers over his inner thighs and cupped his balls in a teasing grip firm enough to make him moan. She didn’t want him apologizing. Not for wanting her, being aroused by her so much. Sliding her lips closer to his shaft’s root, she drew sucking pressure on his cock.
“Christ, Cameron,” His hips bucked forward, his cock—still hard—pushing a little deeper into her mouth. “I’m sorry…please don’t think…I didn’t want to…”
The words fumbled over each other, his voice a hoarse whisper above her head. With a slow pace, she slid her mouth up his cock, stopping only when Lachlan crumpled over her, half-laughing, half-begging for mercy.
“N-no more, babe.” He staggered back a step, just enough for his length to pop free of her lips. He found her jaw with his hands and tilted her head upward. “It’s…it’s too good. I can’t…”
Twister: Party Games, Book 3 Page 10
