"Fuck, I want to ruin you." He brings his lips to mine.
His kiss is hard, hungry, completely unyielding.
I want all of it. Him commanding me, moving me, destroying me.
How can I want that so badly? Everywhere else in my life, I stay in control. I win, I accomplish, I achieve.
I don't let anyone tell me what to do or think or wear.
I certainly don't consider men's opinions of me.
But this is different.
He isn't taking. We're exchanging something.
Cam pushes his fingers deeper.
Then he pulls back and drives into me again. Slowly. So I feel every inch.
Again.
Again.
The elevator dings. The doors slide open. Cam stays pressed against me, his lips on my lips, his fingers inside me.
He pulls back slowly. Brings his fingers to his lips. Licks the taste of me from them.
Then he helps me down, rights my dress, guides me into the hallway.
Somehow, I walk the fifteen feet to his door.
Cam unlocks the room and leads me inside.
In one swift motion, he pushes the door closed and pins me to the wall.
The lights of the city stream through the window. That perfect soft blue. The tiny squares of yellow. The silver of the moon.
Even though the rest of the room is dark, I can tell it's huge. I'm not sure if it's the air or the distance between the door and window or some sense I have of Cam.
Maybe he's right. Maybe I have no idea what he's capable of. Maybe I have no idea who he is.
But I want to know. I want to know him in every way I can.
He brings his hand to my cheek, strokes my temple with his finger.
For a moment, he's soft, gentle, sweet.
Then his hand goes to my hip. He holds me in place as he rocks into me. So I feel his pelvis against mine.
He's hard.
And I want that. I want it so fucking badly.
"Please." It falls off my lips. I don't say please. Not normally. But I'm ready to drop to my knees and beg if that's what it takes. Whatever it takes.
"Please?" He pushes my dress up my thigh.
"Fuck me."
"How?" He pushes my dress higher. "Here?" He pushes his hand into my hip, pinning me to the wall.
Not hard enough to hurt. Only hard enough to threaten hurt.
Will he hurt me? Does he want to?
Do I want him to?
I don't know. My thoughts are fuzzy. I'm too overwhelmed by desire. I want to fuck him in every way, every place, every position.
"Your back against the wall. Your thighs around my hips." He pushes my dress a little higher. Until it's at the apex of my thighs. "Or should I turn you around? Slam you into the wall." He brings his hand to the back of my neck. "Bind your wrists behind your back so you can't do anything but take me?"
"Yes."
"Or should I take you to the bed? Lay you on your back. Fuck you like a gentleman?"
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know. I've never tried it."
"Would you?"
"Is that what you want?" He runs his fingers down my neck. Over my collarbone. To the neckline of my dress. "Do you want it soft and slow?" He pushes the dress aside, so my breast spills from the fabric.
"No."
"Good." He cups me with his palm. Runs his thumb over my nipple.
Softly.
Then harder.
Hard enough it hurts.
My eyes close. My head falls back. My lips part with a sigh.
What do I want?
More. The other details are irrelevant.
He rolls my nipple between his thumb and index finger.
It's hard. Rough. Painful.
Fucking perfect.
"Cam," I breathe.
"You've been teasing me." He does it again. "Do you have any idea what that does to me?"
I shake my head.
He takes my hand. Brings it to his cock.
I cup him over his slacks. Fuck, that feels good. I want more. But when I run my palm against him, he grabs my wrist.
Hard. Way past hard enough to threaten. Hard enough to stop me.
It shouldn't make my sex clench, but it does.
I'm out of my fucking mind.
"What did I say, sweetness?" He takes my hand and pulls it over my head. "This only works if you follow my orders." He does the same with my other arm. "Understand?"
Not completely. Not why. And not why it makes me shake. But I can do what he's asking. I really want to do what he's asking. "Yes."
"Good." He pins my wrists to the wall. Kisses me hard. Releases me. "Take off your clothes."
I nod.
He steps back. Watches intently as I slide his suit jacket off my shoulders. There's no place to hang it, so I let it fall on the floor.
I step out of my shoes and pull my dress over my head.
It's not as seamless as I'd like. I don't have the grace he does. But his eyes stay glued to me.
He stays tuned to me.