Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 103170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
"What do you want me to say?" she asks.
"The truth."
"Above the waist. Nothing serious." She reaches for me.
I grab her wrist. "No."
"I can't touch you?"
"Not now."
"Why not?"
My voice firms. "This only works if you do what I ask."
"Okay."
"Only what I ask."
Her chest heaves with her inhale. "You want me to follow orders?"
"Yes."
Her cheeks flush. "Always? Or now?"
"Both." I bring my hand to the back of her head. Undo the tie in her hair.
The light brown locks fall over her shoulders. "Cam…"
"Yes?"
"You haven't kissed me."
"I know."
"Will you?" She reaches for me, but this time it's tentative. Slow. Like she's trying to pet a wounded animal. She brings her hand almost all the way to my chest. "Please."
I wrap my fingers around her wrist. Bring her hand to my neck.
Her fingers curl into my skin. Her body melts into mine.
She looks up at me for a minute, then her eyes flutter closed.
Mine follow.
Slowly, I bring my lips to hers.
She tastes like gin and liqueur and Sienna. There's something that's just her. Something I recognize.
Something I need in a way I've never needed anything.
I bring my hand to her lower back. Pull her closer as I kiss her harder.
Her lips part. My tongue slips into her mouth. Dances with hers.
It's strange, kissing her like this. Intimate in a way I barely recognize. Terrifying all the way to my bones.
Maybe I'm full of shit. Maybe I'm not afraid of hurting her. Maybe I'm afraid of hurting myself.
I pull back with a sigh.
Her eyes flutter open. Meet mine. Fill with all the trust in the world.
Too much. More than I deserve. More than I've earned.
"Cam." Her voice is yielding. All the softness under the brash, headstrong girl who demands what she wants.
"Yes?" I run my fingers over her shoulder blade.
She shudders. "You're a good kisser."
"I am?"
"Yeah."
Fuck, that's not what I expected her to say. "Thank you."
"Sure." She looks up at me, equal parts nervous and needy. "I've never… I… I know you can't promise, but I want you to know that I've never done this."
"Never kissed someone?"
"Fucked someone."
"I'm not going to fuck you."
"Oh." She deflates. "Why not?"
A laugh spills from my lips. "Because."
"Because…"
"I don't have a condom."
"I do."
Fuck me. "Even so."
"Then why?"
"Because I want to make you wait." I bring my hand to the strap of her dress. The fabric is smooth, slick, some synthetic I need on the floor. But one thing at a time. "No more questions."
"Why—"
"Or I won't make you come. Your choice."
Her eyes fill with drive. That's the Sienna I know. The one who rises to every single occasion.
"What are you wearing under this?" I hook two fingers under the strap.
She shudders. "It would be easier to show you."
"Answer anyway."
"Underwear."
"A bra?"
"No."
"Knickers?"
"Yes."
"What color?"
Her eyes fix on mine. Look for something. "I don't remember."
"Really?"
"Really." Her fingers go to the hem of her dress. "I'd have to check."
"No." I grab her wrist. "Not yet."
"Okay."
Not here. No one is supposed to come onto the balcony, but I don't trust the restaurant security. Especially with the bartender so keen on Sienna.
We need privacy.
So I'm the only one who sees her.
I don't want anyone else to see her.
I release her. "Move into the booth."
She nods. Grabs her drink. Slips past the sheer curtains.
It's the same space we were in an hour ago. Only our friends and family are upstairs, celebrating the promise of forever.
And we're here, about to cross a line that can't be uncrossed.
"This is all I'm offering you, Sienna." I finish my drink. Set the glass on the table.
"This, right now? Or sex?"
"Sex."
"Okay."
"Okay?"
She nods. "You've warned me sufficiently. Honestly, I'm not sure anyone could live up to your hype."
"My hype?"
"How you're so fucked up and you'll fuck me up."
"I might."
"Okay." She brings her drink to her lips. Takes a long sip. "You might fuck me up. I might fuck you up."
No. She will fuck me up. But I can't begin to explain that to her. I can barely understand it myself. "I might hate you tomorrow."
"Will you fuck me anyway?"
"Maybe."
"Maybe?"
"Yes. Maybe."
She takes another sip. "Take it or leave it?"
I move closer. "I'll give you what I want to give you. Take what I want to take. As soft or hard as I want. Understand?"
Her eyes light up. "I think so."
"You think so?"
"I think about it. You tearing off my clothes or pinning me to the wall or holding me down as you fuck me."
My balls tighten.
"What if it's too much?"
"You want a safe word?"
She nods.
I can do that. "Pick a word."
She looks up at me. "Sweeper."
My laugh breaks the tension. "Okay. Sweeper." I bring my hand to her hip. Nudge her softly. "No more questions now. You do what I say, or I stop."
"Yes." Her voice softens. That same yielding tone. Like she's desperate for me to take her, bend her, break her.
"Step back."
She does.
I push her dress off her shoulders.