Page 9 of The Man in Mom's Bed
“Tell me why!?” I nearly scream. I’m like a champagne bottle ready to burst. All this tension, and for what?
“Because you’re barely even eighteen!” he snaps in a voice that causes me to step back. “You’re Mercedes’ daughter! You’re–”
“What?”I ask, rage filling my belly. “Some trailer park trash whose dreams aren’t as big as yours?”
Cam’s eyes lock on to mine. “Youknowthat’s not true.”
He stares at me, eyes fierce, like what I just said enraged him. He steps toward me, and I’m suddenly aware how he towers over me like a skyscraper.
“Well, you sure don’t seem interested in me,” I counter.
My heart nearly stops as Cam swings his arm with blinding speed, sending a pile of Mom’s empties to the floor. I cover my mouth with both hands to avoid screaming like a little girl.
“You don’t get it,” he growls. “You areoff limits, Katie!”
“But I love you!”
The words just leap from my lips without warning. My jaw drops. I’m shocked at myself. But Cam is already shaking his head.
“You can’t. You can’t love me.”
“Too late.”
I move in on him like I’m going to do something, but his hand snatches my arm and holds me back. “You’re too young—too young to know what love is.”
“You’re just scared to admit you love me too.”
He says nothing. What could he say? He knows I’m right.
He looks away, and panic grips me. I want to do something. Ineedto do something. But what? It’s not like I can force him—
I gasp as his control snaps. In an instant, his mouth is on mine, his hands up my shirt, grasping me with the hunger of a starved beast. “You’re right. You were made for me, Katie. Not your mother.”
My whole body shudders as he touches me with his strong, rough hands. His tongue hungrily dances across mine, and he hooks his thumb into the waistband of my yoga pants, tugging them halfway down my thighs.
“Oh, you naughty little girl,” he grates, lowering his eyes between my legs. His pupils dilate when he sees my secret; I’m not wearing any panties.
I can’t explain just how powerful I feel when I see his reaction. It’s like this rush of feminine adrenaline that courses through me, embedding this moment into my memory like a stamp into hot metal.
This kiss is also different than the first. That felt like desperation breaking through the walls he’d built around himself. This feels like intention, decision—like I’m being claimed.
His eyes are focused. His jaw clenched and tight. He stares at me like I’m a piece of art on display in his own personal museumto be admired. I’ve never felt more powerful and vulnerable in my life.
My center is tingling. Moisture coats my thighs as he drags his eyes across my body. Then, all of a sudden, he’s kneeling on the floor in front of me, staring up at me. “Tell me to stop.”
“Don’t you dare.”
He lunges forward with his tongue out and licks me with strong precision, spreading my slit and causing a scream to catch in my throat.
Oh my God, he’s…licking me!
A feeling I’ve never known spreads across me like a heat wave, sending goose bumps over my arms and legs. My eyes roll back in my head as he finds that sweet, secret little button and flattens his tongue against it, driving a beautiful tickle through my core. And then he’s doing circles around it, teasing me with strong little flicks, somehow also sucking gently at the same time.
It’s bliss. Pure bliss. I don’t know how else to describe it.
His name falls from my lips. “Cameron…” I reach down and grab a fistful of his dirty hair. My God, what a man he is. My head tilts back and I nearly fall, but he grabs me by the hips with both hands and holds me still, my femininity pressed against his mouth right where he wants me.
I can’t even process the fact that this is happening, right here, right now, on the kitchen floor. This isso wrong. But if that’s the case, why does it feelso right?
