Down London Road (On Dublin Street, #2)(93)

Teasing me, Cam slowly pulled my underwear down my legs and when they were off, he stuffed the knickers in the back pocket of his jeans.

‘You’re such a perv.’

He laughed quietly, watching me as I watched him unzip his jeans. He shoved them and his boxers down to his ankles, his eyes never leaving my flushed face as he slowly stroked his cock.

I squirmed, my legs unconsciously widening.

Cam stepped forward, his jeans rustling around his ankles, and just when I thought he was about to slide inside me, he lowered himself to his knees and pushed my thighs apart, insinuating his face between my legs.

‘Oh, God,’ I groaned, throwing my head back at the electric touch of his tongue on my clit. I grasped his hair, holding on, rocking gently against his mouth as he licked me and spurred me towards climax.

And then he sucked on my clit. Hard.

I cried out, coming against his mouth in an explosion of light and heat. My muscles were just relaxing when he stood up, gripped my hips, tilted them upward, and slammed his dick inside me so deep it was almost painful. I gasped, clinging to him as my inner muscles pulsed around him in little aftershocks.

His grip on my skin was bruising, his movements rough, hard and frenetic, but I didn’t care. Already the tension had started to coil inside me again, and my sputtered breaths and cries for more mingled with his animalistic growls and grunts.

I was hot.

Too hot.

I wanted to rip off my T-shirt and his, but that would mean stopping, and nothing could stop me now.

One hand left my hip to grasp the back of my head, and then he crushed his mouth over mine, a panting, gasping slide of lips and tongue … no finesse, just a wild need to mimic with our mouths what his dick was doing to my insides. He tilted my hips up more, dislodging my mouth from his as I held on. His eyes were dark with possessiveness as he pounded into me.

I felt like my entire body must be glowing with fiery fractures, as each thrust pushed me towards breaking point.

And finally …

I shattered.

The orgasm came in wave after wave, and I was so caught up in the extraordinary moment I barely even heard Cam’s growled ‘Fuck!’ as he climaxed, jerking against me as he came hard.

My hand slipped on the desk as my muscles liquefied, and Cam’s arms came around my waist, holding me up as he continued to pant into my shoulder.

It was the roughest sex I’d ever had, a kind of pleasure-pain experience. I didn’t know if my body’s epic response had been to the rough sex or to the possessive, seemingly unearthly need Cam had appeared to be driven by, a need to have me, to claim me. He was always a little like that during sex, but this had been … different.

Almost desperate.

‘Did I hurt you?’ he asked quietly, sounding remorseful.

I shook my head against his shoulder, the material of his T-shirt, damp with sweat, rubbing against my cheek. The smells of his aftershave, the sea breeze detergent he used, and his fresh sweat were comforting. ‘No.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘Positive.’ I laughed a little. ‘Although I could sleep for a month now.’

He snorted. ‘Me too.’ He pulled back, smiling softly, tenderly, as he brushed his knuckles down my cheek. ‘Nothing feels as good as being inside you.’

And there he went, pushing back all my insecurities. ‘Nothing feels as good as having you inside me.’

His kiss was warm and sweet, so soft in comparison to the sex we’d just had … like whatever had happened between us had reassured him and taken the edge off.

I remembered Andy telling me he’d never seen Cam so happy as he was with me, and I suddenly felt stupid for having doubted us. For having doubted him. Like a contented kitten, I leaned back on my elbows and watched as Cam pulled his jeans back on. He told me to stay there. He disappeared out of the room and returned a few minutes later with a washcloth. Up until then I’d still felt a little embarrassed whenever Cam helped me clean up after sex, but something had just changed between us and I felt secure again. If possible, even more than I had – I no longer felt embarrassed. I felt … powerful.

I widened my legs with a come-hither smile and his blue eyes flashed at my wickedness.

‘Sexy as f*ck,’ he muttered, pressing the cloth between my legs.

My eyelashes fluttered shut at the coolness of it, and I lifted myself a little to help him. Warm lips closed down over mine, his tongue pushing into my mouth. The cloth disappeared, and I cried out into his mouth as two thick fingers slid inside my swollen passage.

I couldn’t take any more.

I shook my head, moaning as I pulled away from him. ‘I can’t.’

Cam disagreed. He pumped his fingers in and out of me, watching my face intently. I had thought that after that huge climax it would take some time to work me up to another, but my body was still tautly strung, and his penetration along with the torturously gentle flick of his thumb against my clit sent me crashing headlong into another orgasm.

It was gentler, but my skin was almost burning with overuse.

‘You’re trying to kill me.’

Cam kissed me again, and I felt the cloth back between my legs.

I was still trembling when he helped me off the desk and eased my jeans back up my legs. I didn’t even bother asking for my underwear. I knew what the answer would be.

After a little while, we were settled on his couch. I lay between his legs, my back against his chest as we watched a movie. I felt relaxed for what felt like the first time in days. I couldn’t actually believe that it was only yesterday we’d bumped into Blair. It felt like it had been preying on me for weeks.