Yard Sale

“Do whatever you want with me,” I whisper. And I want him to. I want more of this feeling, and I’ll chase it until the very last drop. His thumb brushes my nipple, and I shudder. Cam groans and circles it some more, applying more pressure this time, causing me to arch into his touch. Shoving my dress up to expose my braless chest, he cups both of my breasts before leaning in to suck a nipple into his mouth. I grind into his lap, uncaring of the fact that all that separates us from a crowded bar is a few sparse trees.

“You want more?” Cam asks.

“I want everything.”

“Then, we need to go to my place,” he says, reluctantly letting my dress fall back into place. “As much as I want you to sit on my dick—right here and now—beach sex is overrated. You don’t want sand where the sun don’t shine. Besides,” he says, curving one hand over my ass, not stopping until he’s sliding his fingers over my panty-covered crotch, “if we do this, it’s not going to be quick. You’re going to let me take my time with you.”

His words do little to break through my lust-induced trance. Here I am ready to give it up to a guy I met five minutes ago, right out here in the open, and now he’s asking to take me home. I know I should stop and think about this. To, I don’t know, take a picture of his license and send it to Sutton or something. But, tonight isn’t about making rational decisions. Tonight, I’m going to throw caution to the wind, because nothing about Camden Hess screams safe.

His eyebrows pull together, creating a crease between them as his icy blues search my browns, waiting for my answer. His fingers squeeze the tops of my thighs, as if he’s trying to keep them from straying, and I say the word that could quite possibly result in the best sex of my life.

“Okay.”

After scooping me up and throwing me over one shoulder, Cam prowled straight to his house—which happened to be right around the corner from The Edge—without another word. His entire demeanor changed after I agreed to go with him. He went from fun, witty stranger to scary, sexy stranger, and I was both terrified and intrigued. He strode through his house, and hanging upside down, I could only make out a brown couch before we were in his room. The door was slammed shut, and then I was slammed against it. I dropped my wristlet to the floor and wrapped my legs around his waist as he sucked and kissed and licked at my skin.

Now, we’re both panting, desperate for more, and he swings around, walking us to his bed. He drops me into a pile of gray and black bedding before bracing himself above me, his hands planted on the bed on either side of my head. I spread my legs, welcoming him between them, and I smooth my hands up his back, dragging his T-shirt along the way. He pulls back to rip it off, and then he’s right back where he was.

“Do you have a condom?” I have one in my abandoned wristlet over by the door, but I’m betting a guy like him comes equipped with an entire arsenal of them. He smirks at me, and I get the feeling that I’ve said something stupid. Isn’t that how these things go? Some quick kissing and fumbling around in the dark before getting down to business? He’s already surpassed my expectations.

“We’re nowhere near that part yet. I told you, I’m going to take my time doing whatever the fuck I want, and you’re going to let me, aren’t you?”

I don’t let people tell me what to do. I’m not a doormat. But in this bed, with this man, I’m more than happy to comply.

Taking my silence as confirmation, he slides down my body, bunching my dress up as he goes. He hooks a finger into the sides of my black panties and drags them down my legs, before tossing them behind him. The nerves hit me, being exposed like this, and I clamp my knees together. It’s not that I’m a virgin—far from it—but I’ve only been with Tuck in the past year. It feels foreign to be with another man, let alone one that does more to my body with a single look than anyone I’ve ever been with before.

“No,” he says simply, but firmly, lifting his head to look me in the eye. His pale blue eyes seem to glow, even in the dark. “Spread your legs for me, Mollie.”

I do, slowly, but his eyes stay trained on mine. He parts me with one finger, sliding through my wetness, and I suck in a breath at the sensation. He circles my clit a few times before plunging that finger inside me. Finally, he breaks eye contact to watch his finger slipping in and out of me.

“Look at you. So pink and wet and tight.”

His words cause me to clench against him once more, and his teeth dig into his lip as he slides down to get a closer look.

“Lift your knees,” he orders, and I comply, completely mindless with pleasure. “Now hold your legs up with your hands,” he instructs. “Good girl. Just like that.”

My legs are spread obscenely wide. This angle has him reaching a spot that has me panting and causes a moan to slip free. His unoccupied hand glides up my stomach and rests in the center of my heaving chest.

“You’re beautiful, Mollie Mabey.”

My eyes are closed and my head back—unable to focus on anything but the sensations coursing through my body—when I feel Cam’s hot breath between my legs half a second before his tongue is there. He doesn’t clumsily poke around, nor does he attack me with sloppy, overeager kisses. No. Cam is slow. Intentional. He knows exactly what he’s doing. He drags the flat of his tongue through my slit, applying more pressure once he gets to my clit, and then repeats the process again. He adds another finger into the mix, and this slow torture is almost more than I can take. I squeeze my legs together, rocking against his face as his firm strokes turn into sucking.

Just when I think I’m going to explode, he pulls his thick fingers from me and rips my legs apart. Wet, tattooed fingers grip the insides of my thighs and hold me open for him. My hands fly to his Jax Teller-esque hair and he growls into me. Cam moves his hands, and before I know what’s happening, he’s pushing my legs backwards and sliding his tongue even further south, to where no one else h

as ever been.

I jerk away at the sensation. It’s not that it doesn’t feel good—because holy Jesus, it does—but the fact that I’m completely caught off guard, if not a little embarrassed to have his tongue there. Cam doesn’t allow for shame or discomfort, though, because in response, he flips me onto my side, so my knees are almost touching and angles his head underneath me to devour me that way. I bury my face in the pillow, balling his gray sheets in my fist as I forget inhibitions and take everything he’s willing to give me.

A thick finger is shoved inside me as his tongue continues its assault on my other hole.

“Oh, fuuuck,” I whine, low and keening.

He moves his mouth back to my clit, and then he’s slowly inserting another finger, but this time, he slides it into my ass. I freeze, locking up as he works his way in, little by little. It’s wet enough not to hurt, but it still takes a minute to adjust to the burning fullness.

“Relax,” Cam soothes before nipping at the bundle of nerves. Slowly, the discomfort turns to pleasure—full-blown fucking pleasure—and my legs go slack. It’s all I can do to lie there as he works my body better than I knew possible. He pumps harder, the knuckles of his other fingers pounding into me, bruising the sensitive flesh, but it feels too good to care.

I’m writhing against him and his scruff scratches against my delicate skin, but I welcome the discomfort. I feel that familiar tightening that tells me I’m close. His choreographed movements don’t miss a beat. Tongue, teeth, and fingers all work together to send me over the edge, leaving me a shaking and shuttering mess beneath him.

Cam crawls up my body before brushing sweaty hair from my cheek once I start to come back down to earth. Sleepy, sexed-up eyes meet his for a beat, and then he stands, dropping his pants. Even his muscular legs are full of ink. He’s fucking magnificent. He saunters over to the open bathroom connected to his room, his glorious ass on display without an ounce of shyness, and looks at me in the mirror as he washes his hands.