Page 73 of The Summer Arrangement
“So am I, Beautiful… Pinch yourself,” he encourages, and that’s all I need.
A slur of curses fall from my lips as I come—hard. Wave after wave of pleasure rockets through me, making my toes curl, and every fiber of my being lights on fire. Flopping back onto the bed, I ride out my orgasm.
“Fuck, Liz… You’re so hot.” I hear the sound of Cameron coming, but my vision is blurred, and I can’t focus on anything of substance.
When my body returns to earth, I force myself to finally focus on the screen. Cameron’s wiping at his chest with a tissue, and an enormous smile plays on his lips when his eyes meet mine.
“I think I’ve found a new favorite hobby.”
“Really? What’s that?” I ask, curiosity piqued.
“My goal is to make you come like that every fucking day.”
“That’s a lofty goal,” I muse, shaking my head.
This man is ridiculous.
“I think it’s a worthy one.”
“And what if I die in the process?” I tease.
“There are worse ways to go,” he deadpans.
I burst out into laughter as I stand on wobbly legs. “Okay, Mister King of Orgasms… Where are your shirts?”
“Hmmm… I like the sound of that… King of Orgasms.”
Cutting him off, I quickly add, “Who knows when Milli will wake, and I need to be dressed when she does.”
Reaching for my phone, I study his dresser. I wasn’t paying attention when he pulled one for me, and I don’t want to snoop.
“Second drawer from the top. Not sure my pajama bottoms will fit you, but they have drawstrings, so they might. You can find those in my bottom drawer. You’re welcome to anything I have. Get comfortable and get into bed. I’m not ready for my time with you to end.”
Once I’m dressed and snuggled into bed, I inhale deeply. “Ahhhh, this smells like you. Fair warning, Cam, your bed is so comfortable, I may never leave.”
“I can get on board with that.” He grins wickedly.
I bolt out of bed when I hear the distinct sounds of Milli crying, “Daddy!”
“I’m coming, sweet girl!” I holler, rushing to her room.
Just as I open her door, she wails, “My tummy hurts.”
I barely make it two steps into the room, and the distinct sound of retching fills the space between us. Milli may be tiny, but her stomach muscles are mighty as she proceeds to projectile puke all over her blankets.
Knowing there’s nothing I can do but let it happen, I rush to comfort her. Rubbing her back, I assure her, “You’re okay, sweet girl. I’m right here.”
Once her stomach is empty, she looks to me with watery eyes and weakly whispers, “Sorry, Iz.”
“Oh, Emilia, you have nothing to be sorry about.” Not wanting to make an even bigger mess, I ask, “Do you think you’re done puking for now?”
She slowly nods. “Uh-huh.”
I quickly spring into action. “Don’t move. Let me get you cleaned up.”
In one fluid motion, I grab all the corners of her comforter and get the mess away from her as quickly as possible. Rushing to the spare bathroom down the hall, I drop it into the tub—I’ll deal with that later. When I return, Milli looks so tiny in her twin-sized bed. She’s sitting up, and her shirt is soiled as well as the sheets around her.
“Let’s get you into the tub. Do you think you can walk?”
