Page 100 of Slots & Sticks
We fall onto the cushions, tangled and breathless, and I laugh into his mouth again, giddy and slightly unhinged. “We’re a mess.”
He pulls back enough to look at me. “The best kind.”
I reach for the buttons of his shirt, fingers clumsy with urgency, but he catches my hands. Brings them to his lips. Kisses my knuckles—my left hand first. The ring sparkles between us.
“Look at you.” His chin drops, and he peeks up at me in awe. “My girl. My fiancée. You’re fucking glowing.”
And maybe I am. Because right now, with his hands on me, his eyes so full of something I don’t have a name for—I’ve never felt more radiant in my life.
He tugs the zipper down. My dress slips off one shoulder. And then we’re tipping into something deeper.
Something inevitable.
Something holy.
I push him back. Not gently.
Camden stumbles onto the couch, eyes wide with surprise and something darker. Something hungrier. I climb into his lap without hesitation, straddling him in the wreckage of our laughter, our dress clothes, our shared past. The moment feels hot and bright and shameless.
“Dot,” he moans, hands already on my hips, gripping tight.
I tug his shirt open, buttons flying, and lean forward until our chests press together. “I meant what I said. I want you to fuck me like you’ll never have to hold back again.”
His groan is low, desperate. “Jesus.”
I rock against him slowly, my bare thighs brushing his pants, his cock already hard beneath me. The friction is maddening. My dress falls in soft folds around us, but I shove the straps down my arms, baring my chest to him fully.
Camden just stares. Like he’s reverent. Like I’m church.
“Touch me,” I whisper. “No more teasing. I’m done being careful.”
He growls and buries his face between my breasts, hands sliding up to palm them like he’s missed this, like he’s starved for me. His tongue flicks across my nipple, and I arch against him, fingers tangling in his hair.
I reach between us, unzip his pants, and free him from the last layer keeping us apart. He’s hot and hard in my hand, and the way he hisses when I stroke him—head falling back against the couch cushion—is going to live in my head forever.
I lift up, angle my hips, and sink onto him in one slow, unbroken motion.
We both moan.
He fills me then—deep, thick, perfect. My body clenches around him, welcoming him in, slick and ready and absolutely overcome with want.
“Fuck, Dot,” he pants, hands shaking as they grip my waist. “You feel so fucking good.”
I ride him slowly at first, rolling my hips, watching the way his mouth falls open, the way he watches me. My body. My ring. My pleasure.
“That’s it. Take what you need. Fuck—you’re so goddamn sexy.” Camden lets out a groan. “Look at you. My girl. My ring. My pussy.” His hands spread my ass, pulling me deeper onto him. “You were made to ride me. So fucking tight, Dot.”
I lean down and kiss him hard. His hands slide up my back, clutching, grounding. I ride him faster, chasing the ache, feeling every inch of him stroke places inside me that make me whimper against his lips.
He whispers my name like it’s the only word that matters.
And right now? It is.
He flips us.
One second I’m riding high on his cock, the next I’m on my back, breath punched out of me in a gasp as he spreads my thighs and buries himself inside me again in one brutal, perfect thrust.
“Cam—”
