Page 17 of The VIP Package

“Slide it in quickly, then pull out.”

That earns me another smirk. “You’re just writing marketing copy for the resort at this point.”

Ignoring Camille—though I’ll be honest, it’s hard—I push the door open as the light flickers on. “Let me make sure your fridgeis stocked. There should be water and several forms of distilled spirits. White wine and our locally made passionfruit kombucha. I can also bring over a fruit basket with?—”

“Whoa, check out the sex swing.”

I turn from my kitchen inventory to watch Camille seat herself in our top-of-the-line apparatus. She slips her feet in the stirrups, wrapping her fingers around the handles. Her perfect, round butt fills the seat nicely, and her pale gray sundress billows as she swings.

I shift behind the counter as my cock gives an unpleasant throb. “All our new suites come equipped with that model. It’s very sturdy.”

“This is fantastic.” She kicks her legs to go higher. “I’ve only ever tried the kind that hooks on a doorframe. Can’t really get swinging in one of those.”

“Indeed.” I watch as her dress flies up past her hips. “Not to criticize, but I don’t believe they’re meant to be used as playground equipment.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Ash Hole.” She kicks her legs, laughing. “Playing is kinda the point.”

I wouldn’t know. I’ve never actually tested one. Watching Camille, seeing the flex of her calves and the lushness of her thighs, makes me wonder why not.

She’s a sight to behold, all that glossy red hair and her willowy arms flexing as she tips back her head to soar higher.

“I’ll leave you to it then.” I move toward the door, praying she can’t see the bulge in my pants. “I’ll bring over some fruit later on. There’s granola and yogurt in the?—”

“I always begged Hayden to try this.” She keeps swinging like I’m not even here. “There’s one on the door of my office that I show clients who ask for ideas on spicing things up. It’s more of a prop than anything.”

“But you’ve used it?” I don’t need to know this and it’s none of my business.

“Just once, with Hayden.” She swings her legs in the stirrups, laughing as one of the straps starts to tangle. “He gave it a shot with your standard supported missionary, but it wasn’t really his thing.” She kicks her legs higher, hair trailing behind her. “I read about this one position called the flying sixty-nine and that sounded fantastic. Weightless oral, two ways? Sign me up!” She leans back to study the support system fixed to the beam overhead. “But you need a ceiling-mounted one for the flying sixty-nine, and Hayden absolutely hates sixty-nining, so?—”

“I beg your pardon?”

Of all the things she’s said,that’swhat I choose to remark on?

Camille must wonder the same because she plants her feet on the ground and stares. “Which part wasn’t clear?”

“The part where a straight, red-blooded male found mutual, simultaneous oral genital stimulation appalling.” I was on my way out, but now I can’t leave. “Was something wrong with Hayden?”

“Many things.” Camille winces. “Sorry. I absolutely, positivelyneversex shame anyone for their likes or dislikes. People are entitled to draw boundaries around their preferences, and no one should ever participate in an act that makes them uncomfortable.”

I catch myself grinding my teeth. Why do I even care about this?

“Be that as it may,” I say, struggling to keep my voice calm, “and with all due respect to your fiancé?—”

“Ex fiancé.”

“Exfiancé.” And thank God for that. “The man is an idiot.”

She laughs but doesn’t argue. “Is this a sensitive subject for you?”

“I’m just pointing out that the act of pleasuring a woman orally while simultaneously being pleasured in the same fashion should be one of the seven wonders of the world. It’s like a French linen sheets or a Rolls-Royce Phantom or eighty-year-old Macallan scotch.”

“Wow.” She tilts her head to study me. “Wouldn’t have pegged you as a guy this passionate about having pussy spread over your face.”

Now she’s just pissing me off. “And what, pray tell, doesthat guylook like?”

Camille licks her lips with a grin. “I wouldn’t know.”

I should disengage right now. I should get the fuck out of this room and go take a cold shower. No good can come from parting those pale, luscious thighs and proving her wrong.

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