Page 48 of Bad for Business
I drift my hand up her spine and wrap my fingers in the long tendrils of her hair. I like them the way they are tonight. Normally, the dark strands are sleek and curled, tamed to perfection. Not tonight. Tonight, there’s a slight wave to them. They’re a bit unruly, and I love seeing this non-polished version of her. Her scalp is a little damp from what I’d guess was a shower earlier. I continue to wrap her hair around my fingers, wanting as tight of a grip as I can get on her hair.
Instead of kissing my throat the way I told her to, Camille brings her mouth just inches away from mine.
“Us kissing changes nothing,” she says, her gaze flicking to my lips.
I can’t help but smile. She really is doing everything in her power to deny this connection between us. “I know,” I respond, tightening my grip on her hair.
She moans, her body falling into my lap.
My grin gets even wider at her loss of control. She immediately goes back to grinding against me again.
“I mean it when I say I don’t like you,” she continues, her eyes scanning my face. Her lips are red and swollen, and all I can think about is them wrapped around my cock.
“I don’t like you either,” I lie, tugging on her hair hard enough that it forces her to arch her back.
She moans, her hips picking up speed against my cock. Even through the fabric of her panties and the fabric of my pants, I can feel how fucking wet she is. It eggs me on, wanting me to take more from her if she’ll let me.
“I don’t have to like you to think you’re fucking perfect,” I tell her, my mouth hovering over her peaked nipple. Her position has put her perfect tits right in front of my face. Her nipples strain against the cotton fabric of the nightgown as they basically beg me for attention.
I lean in and press my mouth to the peaked bud, reveling in the loud moan Camille lets out. It’s the sexiest damn sound I’ve ever heard. I use my hand not tangled in her hair to pull the fabric down, freeing her perfect tits.
“Fuck.” I groan, my gaze moving from one nipple to the next.
She lets me take my time taking her in. I wish she was completely naked, but if this is the only view she’ll give me, I’ll gladly take it.
“Ryker,” Camille moans as she continues to rock up against me.
“Yes, princess?” I ask, my voice hoarse.
I don’t give her time to answer me. I lean in and take her nipple into my mouth, this time without any fabric between us.
“Oh my God.” Camille pants, her back arching even more as she continues to grind against my cock.
My tongue circles her nipple. I could do this all damn night if it meant she’d keep moaning just like this.
I pull away just long enough to look her in the eye. “Do you like this?” I ask, leaning in and taking her other nipple into my mouth.
“Yes.” She pants, her hips moving against me frantically to get some friction.
Why does it have to feel so good to have her grind against me like this? If she did it long enough, she might just be able to make me come without even really touching me.
I groan at the idea. Why her? Why is the woman who drives me fucking mad almost every single day the one able to get me close to coming in my pants like I’m a virgin all over again?
I keep my mouth on her nipple, my tongue circling it over and over again as her moans get more and more needy.
I’m so fucking turned on by the sounds she makes. My cock throbs in my pants. All I want is to take it out and slide inside her, but I know she won’t let me. This right here has to be enough, and I fucking hate it.
I slowly move my hand from her hair. It drifts down her back, my fingers trailing down her spine.
“What about this?” I ask her, my gaze pinned on her face. My hand slips between her thighs and I watch her carefully, wanting to make sure I stop the path my fingers trail if this isn’t something she wants.
Camille moans. She opens her thighs a little wilder, her covered pussy still moving up and down the length of my cock.
“Answer me,” I rasp, letting my finger trace over the wetness of her panties. “Do you like this?” I repeat, circling her swollen clit over the top of her panties.
“Yes.” She lets out another moan.
I don’t need her to say anything else. I slip my fingers underneath the cotton fabric and try not to let out my own groan at feeling how wet she is.
