Page 2 of Property of Camo

I scream his name, my body bowing off the bed, every inch of me going tight as ecstasy takes over. There is something about fucking a supernatural that adds extra intensity to a climax.

He thrusts twice more before he comes, his cock buried deep inside of me as he fills the condom, growling my name, his body shaking.

He is never one to go without protection and for that I am grateful. After the way he has been the last few months, it makes me glad that there will never be an accidental baby between us, because he has made it clear that we are only about the sex and nothing more.

His face is tucked into the crook of my neck, his lips pressed there as my hands cling to his biceps still, while we both catch our breaths.

The similar feelings creep in as he calms, and his breathing slows enough to tell me he is ready to leave. Slipping from my body, he kneels between my legs; his big body is on full displayfor me and he is one hot-looking man. All muscles, tanned skin that has no ink on the front, while his back carries the Kings of Anarchy patch with pride.

I watch him watching me, and I know what is coming. This has been the song and dance for the past twelve months roughly, and if I am being totally honest with myself, I am getting tired of it.

He shakes his head, my breath stilling in my lungs, before he is moving to the edge of the bed. He’s sitting facing the large window that opens up onto a small balcony that overlooks one of the many cemeteries here in Salem.

The one thing I love about living here is all the witch history. It has always fascinated me, plus we live among supernaturals, although that is a bittersweet situation, depending on who you ask.

“Why don’t you stay and get some sleep? I am on the late shift at the gym.” I know the answer but I ask anyway.

“I can’t. I got to go to the club.”

“Right.” My chest tightens.

I was stupid to ask, really.

Without a word, he stands up, walking around the bed and into the attached bathroom that I had custom built for me when I bought this house. I stare at the door he just walked through before closing it behind him, effectively cutting me off.

His behavior has been getting worse lately, and I am sick of it. He comes to my house, fucks me and leaves, to then not hear from him again for days, sometimes weeks at a time. I am a fucking booty call to him, and fuck me, I deserve more.

Sighing, I sit up, leaning against the headboard, the smoothness of the material soft against my skin. I pull the sheet up to my neck, as if shielding myself from his sudden cold and distant aura.

He won’t give me more.

He has told me before that we fuck and that is all he can offer me, but surely he feels something since he keeps coming around. I know that he is not exclusive to me though.

He is a biker for fuck’s sake, there is no way he is not fucking the club whores at the clubhouse. As much as I want to hate what he does, we are not exclusive, and I doubt we ever will be.

My friends who I own a gym with told me to drop him months ago, since he is not willing to offer me anything more than his dick and some good orgasms. But they are really good fucking orgasms, like mind-blowing.

I hold my breath as the door opens and he steps out, naked as the day he was born, and my mouth waters at the sight of him. What can I say, Camo is beyond freaking hot.

His shoulders are bunched up with tension, even after a few rounds of sex with me, so I know that either I have pushed him too far, or he is dealing with some stuff at the club.

The Kings deal in some dark things that most people in Salem would run from.

“You know that you can talk to me, Camo,” I try.

He pulls on his clothes, and it is a sad sight to see him cover up all that goodness, but as he does it, I feel the coldness seep into my body yet again. How long can I keep feeling like this?

Sitting at the end of my bed, on the ottoman that I found at a thrift store, he pulls his biker boots on, still not saying a word. It infuriates me, the way that he acts.

Eva’s words sink in: ‘If he is not going to spend as much time with you talking as he does fucking you, then maybe it is time to end things. Tell him that if he cannot give you more, then he will have to keep fucking his club girls.”

We never went into this situation to become fuck buddies, it just came about after some serious flirting at the Red Rope, a strip club that the club owns. We fell into bed with each other, and we have kept doing it ever since, but I see a side to him thathe doesn’t show everyone, I believe. He brings me coffee if he stops by for a morning fuck after a night of work.

He sent a plumber to my gym when I told him that we had a leak. It is because of things like that, that I know he can be a good person, he just refuses to let that person out.

Pushing to his feet, he collects his cell phone, keys, and wallet.

“So that’s it, no talking. No nothing,” I huff and he finally turns to look at me.

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