About Last Night (About Last Night #1)(27)

I was Camilla’s only real option. Some of the scenes she wanted to try were pretty racy, and even dangerous. I was touched that she trusted me to keep her safe.

When I arrived at the hotel, I made my way to the concierge and requested the room key that had been left for me. Candy sent me an email to let me know Camilla would be in the room for an hour prior, preparing herself. I received the key in a shimmering cream envelope and made my way to the elevator.

I watched every floor tick by as my thoughts drifted to Maya. Why hadn’t she called? Was she okay? Had something happened? I shook my head, pushing the thoughts away.

Camilla. I was here for Camilla. I needed to get my head right.

Looking down at my key, I made my way to room 701, took a deep breath, and then slipped the plastic card into the slot. The light turned green. I opened the door gently as I could, and entered the room.

Darkness greeted me. It was a good thing I had been in these rooms so many times before, or navigating around the furniture would be hell. The curtains were drawn tight. Not a speck of light was showing, even though the sun hadn’t fully set.

I slowly walked over to the foot of the bed where Camilla lie feigning sleep. As I moved, I lifted my hand to work on the buttons of my white shirt. It fell to the floor with a whoosh. I slipped off my shoes and socks, leaving me only in my black slacks, then put my knee to the bed.

The mattress squeaked lightly and I heard Camilla take in a breath. Had she touched herself before I arrived? Was she dripping for me?

I studied my part well. Leisurely, I climbed over her with my knees by her thighs. My eyes had adjusted to the dark. I could make out the outline of her body, her curves, and her breasts. I lifted my hand to run my fingers down the side of her throat. That was Camilla’s cue.

She gasped loudly. “Who’s there?”

I smiled. She really did love playing a part. I couldn’t blame her. It was freeing to not have to think about your next move.

Sobering quickly, I drawled, “I’ll be whoever you want me to be, baby.” Then I ran my finger over the lace of her bra and the curve of her breast then into the valley between them.

I heard her swallow hard. She croaked, “Who are you? I don’t know you. Get out or I’ll call the police!”

My laugh sounded cruel, harsh. “No, you won’t, Camilla. You like the feel of me, of my body. Feel me.” I ground my hard length into the soft skin of her bare thigh. “Feel how hard I am for you.” I separated from my script then, only for a moment. I reached for her hand, gripped her wrist, and brought her palm to my material-covered, throbbing cock. I wrapped her hand around my hard length then placed my hand around hers, forcing her to gently jerk me. My voice went hoarse. “You want this, Camilla. I know you do.”

As per script, she didn’t respond, but her breathing turned heavy. I uttered softly, “It’s okay, baby. It’s all right. I’m not here to judge you. I just want to make you feel good.” Leaning down, I kissed the exposed side of her neck then whispered against it, “Let me make you happy.”

With a soft groan, Camilla’s stiff body slumped, her arms out by her sides. I had just been given full access.

Camilla was tall for a woman, but still short against me. She had an athletic body because of the marathons she liked to compete in, and had little in the breast department, but her ass was enough to hold onto. I gave her what she needed to feel feminine. I knew this, because she always wore sexy underwear, even when she wasn’t seeing me. I knew this, because she told me so.

I liked that she had that, that she had something she liked about herself. Women could be so critical on themselves. They could be their own worst enemy when it came to body image.

What women didn’t realize was that most men weren’t worried about a little extra weight, or cellulite, or even stretch marks. At least, for me it wasn’t an issue. We liked you in bed, as long as you were enjoying yourself. A horny woman was always a turn on.

My tongue darted out as I licked the side of her neck, silently thankful that she hadn’t put on any perfume. I gently sucked, careful not to leave marks, then nipped the skin there. With my chest pressed to hers, I felt her nipples go taut against me.

My hands found hers and slowly, I raised them above her head, holding them down firmly. But we both knew the truth; she could easily escape if she wanted to.

Camilla didn’t want to.

My lips found hers and I was pleasantly surprised at the sweet, minty taste of her mouth. I hated the taste of wine and, quite frequently, had to work past it. I kissed her deeper and she sighed into me.

A kiss was nothing but clinical to me. I felt it, but I didn’t really feel it at all. To me, it was the equivalent of somebody touching my arm. I could feel it, and it felt pleasant, but that was all. That was where it ended. I was desensitized.

Camilla seemed to enjoy my body weight on her, so I left it there, slowly grinding my hips into hers. With one hand, I worked on my button and zipper then worked my pants down my legs. I kissed Camilla harder, pushing her hands down in warning as I lowered my own to remove her panties. Then, in one swift move, I rolled us. We had switched places.

Camilla was wet already. Sopping wet. As I lay back on the bed with my hands on her hips, she ground her bare * into my thigh. My cock jerked. I could smell her. My mouth watered.

Would I ever get sick of sex? No. I didn’t think so. I loved it too much.