Page 138 of The Pucking Wrong Man

Tears and saliva and precum were slipping from the edges of my mouth as he fucked it, his thrusts quickening as he went.

I was just along for the ride, my gaze locked on his as he slammed in one last time. “Anastasia,” he roared as his cum filled my mouth, his dick so far down my throat that I had no choice but to swallow.

Not that I didn’t want to.

I needed this man. I wanted every part of him I could get.

His breaths were coming out in gasps as he caressed my jaw and slowly pulled out.

Something red on his length caught my eye, but he pushed his still-hard dick back inside his sweats before I could see what it was, the resulting outline in his pants completely obscene.

“Just a little more,” he murmured as he scooped up the cum that was coating my chin and pushed it back in my mouth.

I was staring up at him from my knees like a lovesick fool, still completely shocked about what just happened.

Camden lifted me off the ground and into his arms. “Are you ever going to scare me like that again?” he asked, a glimmer in his eyes like he wouldn’t mind starting the whole thing over again.

Hell, I was kind of up for that too.

“No, sir,” I answered, knowing what it would do to him.

He leaned down and gave me a bruising kiss, his tongue leisurely licking into my mouth.

Camden straightened up, seeming to wince slightly as he adjusted his dick. “Let’s go home, baby girl.”

I nodded, slumping against him as he led me out of the box and down the tunnel, taking one door and then another, until somehow we popped out into the parking lot, the cold night air pricking at my skin.

As we walked, the words burst across my tongue, and it was all I could do not to say them to him.

It scared me to death, but I had to admit it.

I was in love with Camden James.

CHAPTER 27

CAMDEN

Icame slowly to consciousness, and it took me a second to realize that something was different. Usually, Anastasia was wrapped around me like a boa constrictor when I woke up, the most painful kind of wake-up when you were trying to recover from a dick tattoo since I wanted nothing else but to slide inside her soft heat.

But she wasn’t lying on my chest. I wasn’t breathing in her sweet scent either. I rolled over, reaching out to pull Anastasia back into my arms...only for my hand to meet cold sheets.

Immediately, my eyes flew all the way open and I sat up, searching the room for where she’d gone. The bathroom door was open, lights off, and there was no sound of a shower running.

Wait...was that the smell of bacon?

An agitated humming sifted through me as I quickly slid out of bed and pulled on a pair of sweatpants. Everything in me was hoping that I was just imagining the smell. Maybe she was just curled up on the couch reading. Sometimes I would find her like that in the evenings.

I followed the smell of breakfast cooking through the penthouse, dread building the closer I got.

And when I turned the corner, there she was, wearing nothing but one of my t-shirts and another messy bun, humming to herself and swaying her hips to a Taylor Swift song that was playing softly through the kitchen speakers. She was scrambling some eggs on the stove.

Bile rose in my throat. Fuck, I was going to throw up.

I must have made a noise, because she spun around, a bright, gorgeous smile on her face.

“Hi,” she said shyly, waving her spatula in the air. “I made us breakfast.”

For a split second, I was a kid again.

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