Page 9 of The VIP Package

CAMILLE

Holy mother of God, that’s a huge penis.

And it’s sinking inside me, slowly invading my body inch by thick inch. The insertion goes on for hours, or maybe it’s just a few seconds. He’s taking his time, letting my body adjust to his size. By the time the man buries himself to the root, the walls of my sex stop clenching.

Balling my hands on the wall, I peel my cheek off cool concrete. As the stranger slides out of me, I cast an arrogant look over my shoulder. “Is that as hard as you can fuck me?” I’m playing with fire, and I see it flare up in his eyes.

Then I get what I want as he slams into me.Hard.

“Oh, God.” I tip my hips up to take him as he draws back and fucks into me again. He’s pounding me against this wall, angry and wild and so hot it’s blinding. My fingers slip down to my clit, fumbling and rubbing and struggling to find enough friction.

“Hands off,” he snaps, slapping the back of my wrist. Thick fingers replace mine, strumming that tight little bud like a master. “I decide when you come. Not you.”

“Then you’d better fucking get busy.” Oh my God, what’s wrong with me? I never talk like this. Never in my whole life have I had unprotected sex with someone I don’t even know.

I must have gone crazy. That’s my only excuse for slamming my hips back into him, meeting this man thrust for thrust. He’s trying to kill me, or maybe I’m trying to kill him.

My psychologist brain catalogues what’s happening. Diminished inhibitions, rising blood pressure, increased heart rate, my system flooding with dopamine, oxytocin, serotonin.

“Fuck,” I cry out as his thick fingers roll my clit. “How are you so fucking huge?”

“How are you this tight?”

We’re both hurling words like they’re weapons. Like we’re trying to destroy one another. As he slams in again, I feel his thick cock hit my spleen. I know that’s not physically possible, but Jesus Christ.

“That thing is a menace,” I snarl as my climax creeps up like a sniper. I’ve never been fucked quite this hard. My forehead thumps the wall and I have the passing thought that I’ll probably wind up with bruises. Then big hands bite into my hips, dragging me back to impale me again and again.

“You got what you wanted,” he growls as he thrusts in harder. “You’ll take as much of this cock as I give you.”

The words push me closer to coming. His fiery rage, the strum of his fingertips pulsing and teasing. I can feel my walls clenching, feel myself hurtling over the edge.

“Come with me!” I scream, clawing my hands down the concrete.

He lets out a roar, pounding me fiercely as the first spasms hit.Oh my God. I’m coming so hard I can’t breathe. All I can do is keep driving back on his dick, meeting him thrust for powerful thrust.

Another raw roar rattles out of him as his grip on my hips gets tighter. I’m falling and tumbling, bumping along like a mannequin being dragged behind a car. That sounds so unpleasant, but the truth?

It’s the most powerful orgasm I’ve ever had.

“Holy shit.” I scream as another wave hits me. My hands scrape the concrete wall and two fingernails break. There goes my stupid wedding manicure.

Also, my last shreds of dignity.

Ashton slows down, dripping sweat on my back as he thrusts three or four more times. Then he pulls out and spins me around to face him.

“What’s your name?” he demands, cool blue eyes searching mine.

“It’s on my reservation,” I retort. “Dr. Camille Plier, PsyD.”

Definitely the first time I’ve introduced myself with cum dripping down my leg.

“Dr. Camille Plier, PsyD,” he repeats, shaking his head just a little. “Are you actually clinically insane?”

I laugh. I can’t help it.

Two seconds ago, I wasthis closeto crying—over a manicure, of all things—but there’s something about this man’s rumpled hair, his crooked tie dangling down his bare chest, and his stupid Armani trousers rucked around well-muscled thighs. I’m laughing so hard I start wheezing. More cum rolls down my leg, and dear God, it’s the funniest thingever.

I double over with laughter, howling and swiping at hot tears of mirth. I manage to straighten, to get it together, only to hiccup another raw snicker. Ashton’s brow furrows as he slides a pressed linen handkerchief from his breast pocket and hands it to me without comment. I can’t stop laughing as I clean myself up.

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