Page 72 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bargain

He groans again and starts gliding his fingers back and forth, but still not hitting the right spot to send me spinning.

Taking him in one palm, I place my other hand over his and start guiding his movements, teaching him what I want, what I need to find the release that’s been taunting me for what feels like forever.

I help press his fingers up against my clit and rub in harsh, quick circles, and he moans as my tempo stroking his cock increases. His hips roll up to meet my hand until he’s basically fucking it as I ride his.

It doesn’t take long for that low heat centered deep in my core to spread, and my mouth falls open on a gasp as those first little sparks start to fire off.

“Camille…” My name comes breathy, strangled, and I force my eyes open to meet his as my orgasm hovers on the periphery of reach. The green blazes with the type of need I don’t think I’ve ever seen before. “I’m going to—”

He swallows the final word, his body tightening and going completely rigid as he starts to come.

Hot spurts shoot from the head of his cock over my hand and across his stomach, every muscle in his beautiful form going completely rigid as my own release finally blasts through me.

My body jerks and twitches as he continues to stroke the wet fabric and glide across my clit in the motion I taught him until I can’t take it anymore, until I’m too sensitive to bear even a feather-light touch.

I whimper and tug his hand away with mine, then drop forward, pressing both my palms against his bare skin—one covered in his release, the other over his hand that just got me off for the first time in five months.

Tears well and start to trickle down my cheeks.

But it isn’t regret.

It isn’t pain.

It’s just pure, unadulterated relief.

ChapterEleven

DALTON

The door slamming downstairs jars me out of my dazed eye lock with Camille, and I push up onto my elbow, my head still spinning from what we did as much as from the mind-bending orgasm and the fact that she came on my hand.

She snags the towel and scrambles back off the bed, wiping the evidence of what just happened on it before she tosses it onto my still-prone body.

Her hands shake as she nervously shoves them through her already tied-back hair, then she slips out the door, closing it behind her without a glance back at me.

Shit.

Pops and Davey—they’re back.

And at the literalmostinopportune time possible.

I let out a shuttered breath, trying to slow my racing heart as I wipe the cooling cum from my stomach.

She ran…

Before I even had a chance to talk to her, to discuss what the hell just went down.

I’m not sure what to make of that, but I force myself to try to climb off the bed, anticipating the agony that will rack my body so soon after being incapacitated like I was earlier today.

Only a dull ache radiates across my back as I climb to my feet, and I manage to tug on a clean pair of jeans far easier than I ever have when my body has given out.

Camille is a miracle worker.

Not only did she manage to diagnose and treat Pops, but she’s already helped me in more ways than I can even put into words. Most of which have nothing to do with the way she just touched me—though I certainly can’t say I could ever regret it.

Fuck.

Did that really just happen?

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