Page 47 of Pride & Precedents

I grab her roughly by the waist and pull her close enough to taste each nipple, the pebbled flesh scraping the roof of my mouth.

"God, Henry," she moans, but I barely hear her. Blood rushes in my ears. I am feverish in my need, the tip of my cock weeping precum that smears against her thigh in our embrace.

"I'm going to fuckingruinyou, Camila. I'm going to kiss and lick every inch of you, and then I'm going to fuck you until you beg me to stop." My voice sounds foreign to my own ears. I've never been so ravenous.

With her nipple still in my mouth, I shove down her tiny panties and push her down on the couch. The aroma of her flower overwhelms me, growing stronger as I push her thighs open. Her pussy is gleaming, moisture running down her slit and already leaving a wet spot on the cushion.

Like a starved animal, I dive into her pussy. I nudge her clit with my nose, lick circles around her entrance, and nibble on her labia until her thighs tremble in my hands. If her moans and whimpers are any indication, she's enjoying herself as much as I am. I take her clit between my lips and push two fingers into her unexpectedly.

"Oh my God. Fuck. Ah!" she shouts. I curl my fingers against her G-spot and hum into her folds. My face is a mess, covered in the evidence of her arousal.

Her hips jerk uncontrollably in my hands, and I know she's close. I increase the speed of my fingers and suck more firmly on her pussy. Her pants turn into whines before she explodes, her climax forcing her to grind her pussy even further into my mouth. I lap it up as the tremors overtake her, impressed by the sheer volume of her screams. I hope no one calls in a noise complaint.

While she comes down from her first orgasm, I take the condom from my pants pocket on the floor and roll it over my length with shaking hands. I might actually die if I don't get inside her soon.

Sheathed and desperate to consume her, I cover her body with mine. She opens her legs to accommodate my hips. The wetness of her climax and the sweat on my body combine to make her inner thighs slick, offering no resistance when I push into her.

I guide my cock into her inch by inch until I'm fully seated and we both groan with relief.

"Fuck me, Henry. Make me cum again. I'm begging you."

"Don't say that," I grit out through clenched teeth. "You're so hot, and wet, and tight that I'm liable to embarrass myself if you add begging."

"I don't care," she answers, grinding her hips against mine in a circular motion. "We can always fuck again. We've got all night."

And there went the last of my control. At her open begging, her sweet promise of more orgasms to come, I begin thrusting into her, plunging in and out like the piston of a monstrous engine. There's no finesse, no subtlety, only the blind need pushing me to chase my own release. She arches her back to press those amazing breasts into my chest and squeezes my cock from the inside. It's over.

I drag my cock almost all the way out before thrusting into her to the hilt, my seed filling the condom in hot spurts. I shout into her neck, licking and biting any flesh I can reach. She's clenching around me, her tight pussy quivering with the telltale signs of her own orgasm.

"That…was…," she starts, sounding awestruck.

"Fucking amazing," I finish. She strokes my back as I come down and goosebumps rise on my skin.

Has sex ever been better than that?, I wonder, sleep beckoning to me like a siren into the tide. If I said yes, I'd be perjuring myself.

I jolt awake, fumbling for my phone out of habit. It's silent. An alarm didn't wake me. I look around, disoriented, but the world is blurry. I grope haphazardly and find my glasses under the coffee table, thankfully intact. A light blanket covers us.Us.Shaking off the remnants of sleep, I realize I'm snuggling against a warm, female body.

Camila. I slept with Camila. Islept overafter sleeping with Camila. Islept through the nightwithout my noise machine, my sleep mask, or my blackout curtains.

What the hell does that mean?

Chapter nineteen

Camila

"Shit," I hear Henry say.

I open my eyes just a crack, not quite ready to meet the day after a very…energeticsleepover. Henry and I are a beautiful tangle of soft and hard on my tiny couch. His shoulder nudges mine as he fumbles underneath the coffee table one-handed for his discarded boxers.Is he trying not to wake me up? It's a little late to sneak out.

He reaches further under the table and slips off the couch onto the floor with a heavy thump.

"Damnit!" Henry grumbles quietly. My apartment certainly isn't designed for someone Henry's size. The thought of Henry as a bull in a china shop nearly makes me giggle until I see the look on his face. It looks a little like…panic.

My heart sinks. I just had the best sex of my life, and probably all my future lives, and he's having morning after regret? I'm not some naïve twenty-something who thinks a couple orgasms mean I should start picking out baby names. I know what this is.But I thought we were on the same page last night. Now it seems like we weren't even in the same book.

I join him in his search for underwear, finding my bra under a couch cushion and yanking it on. Maybe the sex wasn't as good for him as it was for me?…If so, his moans and general wildness told a different story. Maybe seeing me naked was a letdown? As confident as I am in my own skin, I've never seen Henry with anyone bigger than probably a size four.

"Sorry," I say flatly, trying and failing to keep my tone neutral. "You're probably eager to get back to Westchester. Do you need to use my bathroom to freshen up?"

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