I’m not sure what to expect from Her Royal Highness. Contrary to my previous thoughts, she’s not spoiled nor does she act entitled, but I know she has a strong mind. I know she’s the type that once she sets her sights on something, she won’t give up without a fight.
So what exactly does she want now?
My question—or maybe my prayers—are answered when Camille releases her grip on my shirt and slowly drags her hand down my abdomen. I can feel every individual muscle leap beneath her touch, and I groan when she palms my cock through my jeans.
She’s not shy about it either, her head bent to watch what she’s doing to me.
I have no clue what her sexual experience is. She’s almost twenty-five. I doubt she’s a virgin, but she’s also been fairly sheltered. On the other hand, she had four years away at college, and well … lots of sex happens in college. Whatever her experience, right now she acts like a fucking pro as she strokes the length of my erection from the tip and down again.
I slap a hand over hers with a low grumble of dissatisfaction.
Not that I’m dissatisfied with what she’s doing, but because I want more and I’m too weak to say no. Rather than pull her hand away, I cover it with my own and force her to put more pressure on my dick. A small gasp escapes her mouth, and she tips her head back to look at me.
Her voice is husky and yearning. “In case there’s any doubt, you know I want more than a kiss.”
There’s a touch of bitterness when I reply, “Because you want to get laid. And if I don’t give it to you, you’ll get it somewhere else.”
She shakes her head hard, eyes clouding with denial. “The only one I want is you, Jackson. It’s only you that I want between my legs.”
A rush of air leaves my lungs, releasing an unknown tension. It was galling me that she might give it up to anyone.
Her desire to have me between her legs causes me to abandon all my principles and scruples. I’m reduced to a man who is putting his career second and his own needs first.
I sweep Camille up in my arms and move from the entertainment suite into the master bedroom. The queen-size bed runs along the length of the plane, more than enough room for me. Rather than toss her down, I gently set her on her feet and take a step back, turning for the door.
I close it behind us and flip the lock. Paul isn’t going to come looking, but better safe than sorry. If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll stay away because at this point, I feel like I might murder anybody who would try to get between me and this woman.
“Take off your clothes for me,” I demand.
While Camille has come to know me some this past week and a half, she has no clue about the beast inside. I watch her carefully, making sure I’m not scaring her. I don’t want that, but the minute she palmed my cock, I knew those clothes were coming off.
Instead, I am mightily rewarded by simmering lust in her eyes, and her lips curl in a sexy little smile that says I accept your challenge.
Ever so slowly, Camille does a sensual strip of all clothing, but not in a teasing way. She’s deliberate and looks me straight in the eye the entire time as she drops each piece to the floor.
With every inch of skin revealed, every bit of lace peeled off, my heart races faster and faster. I almost swallow my tongue when she unhooks her bra and those heavy breasts are exposed, nipples already tight with anticipation. My mouth waters with absolute need to get them between my teeth.
And then she bends at the waist and shimmies white, lacy panties down those long legs. She kicks them off to the side and stands straight and proud.
She’s a goddess.
My perusal doesn’t start at her head but rather at the tips of her toes painted coral, up those tanned legs to the apex where dark golden curls wait for me to part them with my fingers and tongue.
Higher up past her curvy hips, back to those magnificent tits, and my throat is so dry by the time I reach her eyes, I’m not sure I can talk. Somehow, I manage to throw a few caveman grunts at her. “Get on the bed. On your back. Spread your legs.”
Camille sucks air in through her nose, nostrils flaring, but she doesn’t miss a beat. Stepping backward, she lowers herself gracefully to the mattress and swings her legs up. And fuck me, as she settles back on the pillows, she wantonly spreads her legs and even places her hands on her inner thighs, stroking them upward to her hips, up her stomach, and then lightly over her breasts before she stretches them above her head.