Page 117 of The Good Girl Effect
I fucking love watching her come.
And like the good girl she is, she keeps up her movement on my lap so that I can chase my own release after her. Watching and feeling her finish sends me over the edge. With a tight grip on her hips, I pound her down on my cock until my own climax takes hold.
Throwing my head back, I spill my cum inside her. Pleasure radiates down my spine, and for a long time, I can hardly breathe. I just feel her, smell her, taste her.
She makes everything better, even my fucking orgasms.
When we’re both spent, we collapse together in the chair. She’s resting against my chest, no doubt listening to my heart pound inside my rib cage.
For a moment, everything is perfect.
Rule #40: The truth always comes out.
Jack
Camille is sleeping peacefully on my chest when I wake to the sound of tiny feet pitter-pattering across the floor downstairs.
“Oh shit.” I scramble out of bed and throw my sweats and a T-shirt on. Finger combing my hair to the side as I scurry down the steps, I find my daughter standing at the bottom in pink polka-dot pajamas with a wide-eyed expression on her face.
“Camille is missing!” she cries. Her hair is still tangled from sleep as if she just rolled out of bed and went to her nanny’s room first.
I chuckle to myself as I reach the bottom floor. “She’s not missing.”
“She’s not in her room!”
“I know she’s not,” I reply, ushering my daughter toward the kitchen so I can make her breakfast and me coffee. “She’s…erm…upstairs.”
“In your room?” Bea asks, looking perplexed.
“Yes. She was…helping me with something. She’ll be down in a moment.”
“What was she helping you with?” Bea asks as she climbs up on the stool in front of the counter.
I fight a smile as I start to make a pot of coffee, rinsing the carafe in the sink. “Um…” It feels wrong to lie, but it’s not like I can tell my six-year-old the truth, especially without talking to Camille about it first.
“She was showing me how to iron my suit,” I say.
“This early in the morning?” Bea asks.
As I put coffee beans in the machine, I change the subject so my daughter stops asking so many questions. “Did you have fun with Monique last night?”
“Yes,” she replies excitedly. “We watchedA Little Princessand made cookies and stayed up until ten!”
I smile as I turn toward her. Crossing my arms over my chest, I stare at her.
Today is the first day I can finally accept that this life is perfect just the way it is. Camille and I love each other. Who cares that she was my daughter’s nanny? She won’t be for long. Starting now, she’ll be my girlfriend.
Am I a fool for thinking I can have it all? I know Bea would be ecstatic to have Camille as more than a nanny. And I know Camille is worried about the risks, but there would be risks no matter who I was dating.
And don’t the benefits outweigh the risks?
I can see our future so plainly it feels unreal. Every morning, waking up next to her. Spending our weekends together as a family. Raising Bea…and maybe more children. Going to the club at night like we’re living double lives.
It’s all within reach.
As I make Bea breakfast, it’s all I can think about. Camille sleeps peacefully upstairs as I sip my coffee, anxious to tell her how I feel. It’s more than justI love you.
It’s…I want you forever.
