Page 181 of Story of My Life
I was perched on the edge of the kitchen island while the man, the myth, the troublemaker, occupied all the space between my spread thighs. In a satisfying move sure to be studied for decades by women trying to prove points to their partners, I’d locked my legs around his hips, restricting his movements so that neither of us was particularly satisfied.
He groaned. “Jesus, Trouble. Are you edging me right now?”
“You’re damn right I am. Is it working?” I demanded through gritted teeth.
He let out a strangled groan. “I swear to you on all the baby pigs in the world, I’ll come to you before I make any more announcements about the state of our relationship.”
I could have played hard to get, but the orgasms just weren’t as plentiful from the moral high ground. “Good enough for me.” My thighs sprang open like a vagina-in-a-box.
But instead of fully seating himself in me, Cam pulled out and plucked me off the island. “You’re gonna pay for that,” he promised as his teeth grazed my neck.
A thrill raced up my spine. He was beautiful. Not that he’d think it was a compliment. Like some ancient god striding off the pages of Norse mythology to invade my body.
He backed me into the brick wall between the two front windows.
That’s about all I had time to notice because Cam had me up against those chilly bricks in the span of a heartbeat. Our mouths battled each other.
His hands didn’t wander my body, they conquered it.
“I fucking love this skirt,” he said, as one hand delved between my legs, dragging the fabric of my underwear to the side with PhD-level skill.
He pressed the heel of his hand against my sex and thrust two fingers inside me.
I did not succeed in muffling my cry of ecstasy. The pig snuffled from its pen in the corner, and I clamped my lips together. My knees gave out, and he pressed me harder against the brick.
I wanted him with a fierceness that both terrified and delighted me. I needed him to feel the same jagged edge of desire.
We groaned into each other’s mouths when I gripped his cock. This time it was Cam’s knees that buckled. I timed my strokes with the thrusts of his slick fingers, and within seconds we were both panting.
But I wanted more from him. Still gripping his erection, I put a hand to his chest and spun us around so his back was to the wall.
“What are you up to, Trouble?” he asked huskily with another deep pump into my core.
“Driving you as crazy as you drive me,” I said, stepping out of his grasp.
My thighs were damp with arousal, and my entire body was trembling for release. But when I saw the glittery look in Cam’s narrowed eyes as I lowered myself to my knees, I stopped worrying.
“Wait,” he ordered.
I pouted from my position between his legs as his hard-on twitched in my hand. “I don’t think you actually mean that,” I said, demonstrating with a squeeze.
He hissed in a breath between his teeth and shrugged out of his T-shirt. “Put it under your knees,” he ordered.
Even with his cock inches from my mouth, Campbell Bishop was a gentleman. Sort of.
I bunched up the shirt and shoved it between my knees and the floor.
“Better?” he asked.
I answered in the most appropriate way I could think of. By taking his erection to the back of my throat without warning.
“Goddammit, Hazel, baby.” His fist bashed into the brick at his back, and if his impressive genitalia hadn’t been occupying my mouth, I would have smiled triumphantly.
He let me play and taste, suck and slide, while his jaw got tighter and tighter. His control was fraying, and I was winning. I hummed my approval, which apparently pushed him over the edge.
He fisted a hand in my hair, wrapping my ponytail around it. Using his grip, he guided my speed as he began to fuck my mouth. I hummed again, longer this time, and was rewarded with a warm burst of precome.
I was going to write the best blow-job scene of my career right after I got done giving the best blow job of my life, I decided.
