Page 127 of Story of My Life
Swearing deliciously, Cam’s fingers found their way under the material to my slick folds.
My heart was thumping in my chest, my throat, my head. We were moving so fast, and I wanted it that way. The last few years of my sex life had been sedate, planned meetings in bed after separate showers. This was something different.
Those talented fingers stroked through the wet, pausing to circle that tight bud of nerves. I let out a whimper that turned into a cry when he drove two fingers inside me. He kissed me again, harder this time. His tongue took what I had to offer while I bucked against his hand shamelessly as it pleasured me.
I grabbed at his shirt, pulling and pushing.
Cam read my mind and pulled it over his head one-handed. His hat went flying.
Muscle, tattoo, that smattering of chest hair that tapered down his perfect torso. He was built like a romance hero. Book Cam and Real-Life Cam were one and the same.
“You keep looking at me like that and it’s gonna be over too fast, baby,” he warned.
I didn’t know how I was looking at him, but thankfully he took matters into his own hands by shoving me down on the desk. I stared at the ceiling as he pushed my shirt over my breasts.
“Fuck me,” he muttered reverently before he began to knead one with a rough, callused palm. And then that hot, hard mouth was surrounding my needy nipple, and I forgot my own name with every deep pull.
“Mmm,” he murmured against my breast. “You like that. I can feel you clamping down on my fingers.”
“About that,” I said, sounding like I was breathlessly trying to squeeze myself through a mail slot. “You mentioned fast and rough, and well, if you don’t put a different appendage in me, I’mgoing to finish on your hand, and I really, really want to finish on your cock.”
I felt him smile over my nipple. He gave one last hard suck before pulling me back into a seated position at the edge of the desk.
“You got a condom in this place? Preferably three?” he asked as he stripped my shorts off and threw them over his shoulder.
I leaned over and yanked open the desk drawer to rummage in it. “I’m not saying I wrote a scene just like this Monday night, but I do like to be prepared.” I pulled out a sleeve of condoms.
“Good girl,” Cam said with what was practically a purr.
I felt my insides go squishy at the praise. New kink unlocked. I was just reaching for my notebook when he positioned my heels on the lip of the desk, opening me completely to him.
With quick, jerky movements, I watched in fascination as he released his belt, undid his pants, and freed his gloriously hard cock.
I’d written plenty of dicks in my day. I’d enjoyed a satisfactory number in real life. With that in mind, I could confidently crown Campbell Bishop’s penis King Cock of both Fiction and Nonfiction.
Long, thick, and veined, it bobbed like it was happy to finally be free.
I reached for it with both hands.
Cam’s intake of breath sounded almost pained as I gripped his shaft. Moisture pooled at the tip before I’d even completed half a stroke. His hands stilled mine. “Foreplay next time. Good with that?”
“So good. Great,” I said, watching as he rolled the condom down his intimidating length.
It seemed cliché to worry about size. But real-life me had never encountered a penis quite as magnificent in the wild. My math skills were rustier than my lady parts, yet I was eightypercent sure there was no way he was going to fit. But I sure as hell was going to give it my best try.
“Look at me,” he commanded, dragging the crown of his cock back and forth through my folds as if I wasn’t already wet enough to close down a theme park. It felt so damn good that my head fell back and a whimpery kind of moan ripped free from my throat.
“Look at me, Hazel,” he repeated, notching the blunt tip against my opening.
When I did, when I locked eyes with him, Cam gripped my hips and yanked me forward onto his shaft. The sudden invasion had my eyeballs rolling back in my head as I gripped his shoulders.
“Holy shit, you’re big!” I shouted.
It was probably not the classiest thing to say during sex. But I was out of practice with sexy talk.
Big was a lazy understatement. Gigantic. Tumescent. Swollen. Girthy. My editor would have been proud.
He let out a noise that was half laugh and half groan, then wrapped my legs around his waist. This alone drew him another inch deeper. I felt like my life was one taut guitar string and Cam was about to pluck it.
