Down London Road (On Dublin Street 2) - Page 89

I felt his tongue on my throat and ground harder against his movements.

His lips peppered kisses up my neck to my ear. ‘I missed you this morning,’ he whispered hoarsely.

‘You did? I thought you’d be too hungover to notice.’ My hands slid up his back to wrap around his neck, my fingers curling in his hair as I angled his head so I could look in his eyes and see if I could discern the truth in them. I took a deep breath, terrified that what I was about to say might conclude with experiencing the abject loss of Cam in my arms. ‘You were off yesterday. After … Blair …’

Cam nodded carefully, running his hands up and down my outer thighs in what appeared to be a reassuring gesture. ‘I was taken aback to see her. I got lost in my thoughts for a while.’

‘You got drunk.’ I smiled weakly. ‘Are you sure everything is okay? That … we’re okay?’

His eyes gentling, Cam grasped my chin in his hand. ‘Baby, we’re more than okay.’ He kissed me, pulling me closer, deeper, and I relaxed into him with a groan. God, I wanted to believe him more than I’d ever wanted to believe anyone in my life.

His tongue teased my lower lip as I felt his fingers on the button of my jeans. I pulled back, anticipation and arousal knocking the rest of the questions I had out of my head. He’d reassured me we were okay. That was enough. I licked my lip where his tongue had just been and held his scorching gaze as he unbuttoned me. After the last button was popped, Cam cradled my hips and slid me forward gently so that my ass was hanging precariously off the edge of his desk. His warm fingers slid inside my waistband and I held on to the desk, lifting my hips up to give him better access as he eased my jeans down my legs. They came off, along with the red flats I was wearing.

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.

Tags: Samantha Young On Dublin Street Romance
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