Page 171 of Corrupting Camille
“You don’t get to run anymore,” I growl, voice raw and low, dragging my fingers down her spine as she writhes beneath me. “This isn’t a fucking vacation, Camille. I’m not a break from the world you hate. I am the world now.”
She whimpers, trying to push up on her elbows, but I slam my hand down on the mattress beside her face, caging her in.
“There’s no more going back. You hear me?” My voice is a razor across her skin, every word deliberate. “That part of your life isdead. The pretending. The lies. The fake smiles and perfect pearls and that ring he bought to own you.”
I lean closer, lips brushing her temple, my cock lined up at her entrance.
“No one touches you but me,” I whisper, sliding the thick head against her soaking slit, teasing her, making her wait. “No one fucking owns you but me.”
She moans, high and desperate...waiting.
So I push in.
Slow.
All the way.
Deep.
She cries out, back arching, muscles clenching as I bottom out inside her, thick and hard and unchanging. I stay there, buried to the hilt, grinding my hips against her ass as she trembles beneath me.
This is the moment she breaks.
And I want her to remember it for the rest of her life.
“This is permanent,” I breathe against her neck, voice guttural as I start to move. “Every thrust, every bruise, every mark I leave…it’s all fucking forever.”
“Kane…” she gasps, voice splintered, lost, surrendering.
“Yeah…say my name,” I demand, hips rolling brutally slow, making her feel every inch, every nerve, every claim I lay to her body.
“Kane…!” she sobs louder, voice frayed, ruined.
I lean over her back, mouth against her ear, lips brushing tenderly against her skin, a stark contrast to the brutal thrusts that refuse to let her forget who’s inside her.
“Te amo,” I breathe, raw and honest, the words heavy with something I’ve never given anyone. Something I promised myself I never would. “Te amo, Camille.”
She shatters instantly.
Violent, helpless, beautiful.
Her body clenches around me, impossibly tight, pulling me under, dragging me into oblivion with her. And I don’t fucking fight it, I give in, pouring everything I have into her, body and soul and secrets and darkness.
When we collapse, breathless, sweat-slicked, hearts hammering in perfect chaos, I pull her close, wrapping my arm tight around her waist, burying my face into her tangled hair, breathing her in like salvation, like poison, like home.
“Te amo,” I whisper again, softer this time, vulnerable and dangerous all at once, pressing the words deeper into her skinlike a brand. “You hear me, Camille? This isn’t lust. It’s our ruin. You don’t come back from this. Neither of us does.”
She doesn’t answer.
But she doesn’t have to.
Because her body curls into mine, melting against me in exhausted surrender, her breathing steadying, matching mine heartbeat for heartbeat.
And I know, I know without a doubt, that she finally understands exactly what this is.
Exactly what we’ve become.
A twisted, beautiful disaster.
