Page 48 of Second Quarter Comeback
Camille: We can’t do this again.
Killion: Like never? Because I was thinking about eating you for breakfast tomorrow morning.
Camille: No.
Killion: I could also feed you. I know how much you like my cock.
Camille: Killion, stop.
Killion: Stop what? Reminding you how good it feels when I slide it deep inside you?
Camille: You’re impossible.
Killion: And yet, you’re still reading. You’re still imagining it. Me, pulling you onto the kitchen counter, spreading your legs, and tasting you until you’re dripping all over my tongue.
Camille: I’m not imagining anything.
Killion: Liar. I can see you now, trying to fight the ache between your thighs. Do you miss the way my fingers filled you last night? Do you want me to make you beg for more?
Camille: Thisis not appropriate.
Killion: Appropriate? Nothing about how I want you is appropriate. I want you bent over your counter or the table, skirt hiked up, panties pushed to the side while I fuck you so hard you won’t even remember your name, only mine.
Camille: Killion?—
Killion: Don’t pretend you wouldn’t like it. That you wouldn’t love my hands gripping your hips, my cock driving so deep you’d forget every single reason you think we shouldn’t do this again.
Camille: I hate you.
Killion: No, you don’t. You hate how much you want me and you can’t have me. Not right now.
Camille: This conversation is over.
Killion: Sure, babe. But when you’re lying in bed tonight, your fingers won’t feel as good as mine. And you know it.
Camille: I’m blocking you.
Killion: You won’t. Because the next time you see me, I’ll remind you exactly how good we are together. And you’ll let me.
Camille: Goodbye, Killion.
Killion: You sure you want to stop this? You don’t want me to tell you what to do with your hand and your cunt?
Camille: Killion. Stop.
Killion: You’re already wet, aren’t you? Thinking about sliding your fingers inside while I tell you exactly how I’d fuck you if I were there.
Camille: I’m in public.
Killion: Even better. Imagine me pulling you into a bathroom stall, pushing your panties down, and taking you so hard you’d have to bite your lip to keep quiet.
Camille: You’re insane.
Killion: Insane for you, baby. I’d have you gripping the wall, your ass in the air, begging me to go deeper. And I’d make you come so hard you’d forget where you were.
Camille: You’re impossible.
Killion: You love it. Admit it. You’re picturing my tongue between your legs, tasting every inch of you, and making you come until your knees give out.
