Page 91 of Feeling the Heat: Part One
“And some other things,” I say with a chuckle, as she dumps everything out onto her dresser.
Camille gapes at the variety of toys, bondage equipment, and pleasure aids designed specifically for omegas. “You bought a whole damn sex shop!”
I shrug, grinning at her. “It never hurts to be prepared.”
When she finds the padded handcuffs, designed not to cause any chafing to delicate omega skin, she picks them up and gives me an assessinglook.
“So, what? You want me to handcuff you to the bed and have my way with you?”
My cock bucks, and I swallow hard. “Something like that.”
I can see from her expression that she’s fighting between uncertainty and arousal. Stripping off my shirt, I tuck it under one of her new pillows to help infuse the space with eau du Jackson, then reach down to cup my obvious erection. “We’re safe together, remember? If you’re game, I am.”
Camille hesitates for a moment longer, then nods. With unceremonious movements, she strips off her shirt and wiggles out of her pants so she’s standing before me in her underwear. They’re not fancy, just plain scent-blocking panties and a basic black bra, which tells me she hadn’t planned on sex today. My heart squeezes at the subtle indication that she truly just wanted to spend time with me.
My arousal flares even brighter as I drink in the sight of her lush body. God, I want to sink my fingers into her thighs as she sits on my face.
“Take off your pants and underwear.” Her command is soft. A little uncertain. But the effect it has on me is still potent.
“Yes, Cami.” I consider saying ma’am or madam, but I don’t want to ruin the moment by using a term she might not like. I quickly shuck both my pants and briefs in one go, tugging them down off my legs and letting my throbbing cock spring free.
Her eyes rove over my naked body, and I resist the urge to pose for her or make a joke. I’m used to people liking my body, but Camille’s gaze makes me feel oddly vulnerable.
I love it.
Huh, guess I’m more of a switch than I realized.
My breath quickens as I wait for her to decide what to do next. After what feels like ages, Camille joins me back on the bed, handcuffs dangling in one hand.
“Give me your hands,” she says, more confident in her command this time, and my balls tingle at her husky tone.
I reach my hands out eagerly, watching her face intently to make sure she’s enjoying this. The little grin that forms on her lips as she places the cuffs around my wrists reassures me, as does the sweet richness of her scent.
Right before she closes the cuffs, her brow furrows. “Should we, uh, have a safeword or something? I’ve never been on this side of things.”
I shrug as best I can with my wrists in front of me. “For now, why don’t I just tell you ‘stop’ or ‘slow down’ if I need either of those things? Keep it simple.” I don’t tell her I sincerely doubt either will come up. I’m eager for whatever she wants to do to me, but I love that she checked in with me.
Camille nods. “Okay.” She assesses the head of her bed with a slight frown. “I don’t have anywhere to attach these, so you’ll have to be good for me and keep them in place on your own.”
I make a mental note to look for bedframes with anchor points for the future. Whether we use them for me or her, it’ll be an excellent investment.
A bead of pre-cum forms at the tip of my cock. I don’t think Camille realizes how fucking sexy she sounds right now, but my body makes it clear.
“I’ll be good for you, omega,” I murmur. The mention of her designation slips free without thinking. I freeze, worried I ruined the moment.
But no, I definitely didn’t, because her tiny, wicked smile returns. “That’s right. Because I’m in control. Now be a good beta and lie back. Keep your hands above your head.”
She places a hand on my chest and gives me a light push. There’s no force behind it, but it still has me falling backward onto the mattress. She grabs my cuffed wrists and eases themabove my head before I can do it on my own, and my mouth waters at the enticing view of her breasts above my face.
When Camille sits back up, straddling my waist with her thick thighs that make my brain cloud with lust, there’s a smirk on her lips.
“I think it’s my turn to torture you,” she murmurs, moving off of me to scoot further down the bed, tracing a nail down my stomach to rest right above my cock.
“Fuck,” I curse, oddly thrilled at the prospect. “Give me what I deserve. Please.”
Camille wraps her hand lightly around my cock, giving it a testing stroke. I groan at the contact, but she frowns slightly. I already want to whine when she pulls her hand away, which doesn’t bode well for me enduring what’s to come.
My nostrils flare as she dips her hand beneath the waistband of her underwear and slides it between her thighs.
