We fought, I yelled, she cried, and I said I was done and wanted out of our marriage, then I left. We were going in circles, and I couldn’t stand to continue having the same fight, so I was an asshole and left instead.
I don’t know what led me to text Camille while driving to the hotel, but I did. I texted her twice.
Once to tell her that I was going back to the Rutherford Hotel, and again after I checked in to tell her my room number. As usual, she read the message but never replied.
And that’s where I am now. Sitting in the living room of my hotel suite, a glass of liquor in my hand, staring at my text thread with Camille to ensure it saysreadand my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me.
I’m so focused on my phone that I barely register the sound of knocks coming from the door. Odd, considering I didn’t order anything, and the staff wouldn’t come by unannounced.
It must be Karina. Great.
Downing the amber liquid, I set the empty glass down along with my phone and make my way to my hotel room door, all while dreading it and hoping it really is the hotel staff. I don’t bother checking the peep hole. Instead, I swing the door open, ready for another round of fighting with my wife. Except to my surprise, it’s not Karina. The last person I expected to see is standing at my door.
Camille.
“What are you doing here?” The question comes out harsher than I meant.
She doesn’t say a single word. Her glossy green eyes find mine as she walks into my room, closing and locking the door behind herself.
“Camille?” I question, arching an eyebrow at her. She looks disheveled, and by the sight of her, I can tell she’s been crying. Her eyes are red and glazed, and tear marks have streaked down her face and dried. What angers me the most is her bright red left cheek with a very identifying mark. Someone hit her.
My body heats in anger, my hands balling into fists at my sides. I will fucking kill the person who put their hands on her.
She steps toward me, grips my now wrinkled white undershirt, and presses her plump lips to mine, stealing the air from my lungs. Her kiss sets fire to my skin and awakens a feeling that I haven’t felt in a very long time.
Her kiss feels like pain, love, and loss all in one. It makes me dizzy.
“Cam,” I whisper breathlessly against her lips, my hands finding her hips and squeezing them tightly, so I know she’s real.
“I need you.” Her voice is soft, her words spoken in a plea. If I were a better man, I wouldn’t take advantage of her vulnerability. I’d push her to talk, find out what happened and what’s bothering her. I’d do anything other than what I’m doing right now, which is pressing my growing erection into her soft stomach so she can feel what she does to me.
Her lips collide with mine once again. This time it’s frantic and filled with lust. It’s as if we can’t get enough of each other. I lean down without breaking our kiss and lift her, wrapping her legs around my waist. She’s wearing jeans, but I wish like hell she were wearing a dress so I could feel the wetness that I know is flooding her core. She always got so wet when she was turned on.
So wet, so needy.
With my hands tangled in her silky dark hair, I carry her to the bedroom and lay her small body in the middle of the bed. Her eyes never leave mine from where I stand at the foot of the bed, watching her like she’s my prey.
“Come here.” She reaches for me, but I shake my head, staring her down.
“You want me, Camille?” She nods.
“Prove it. Undress and let me see how wet you are.” My words shock us both. Her green eyes widen, and she takes her plump bottom lip between her teeth to hide the smile threatening to curve on her lips.
She obeys, stripping herself until she’s lying in front of me as naked as the day she was born. Her body is beautiful. The sight makes me so painfully hard that I have to remove my pants to loosen the pressure on my dick. My eyes never leave her beautiful, golden body as I unbutton my shirt and let it fall to the floor silently, leaving me standing before her in only a pair of boxer briefs. I palm my dick through the fabric, groaning at the touch.
It takes every ounce of self-control I have not to pounce on her and plunge myself so deep inside her that she feels me every time she walks. I’m forcing myself to go slow, and it makes my fucking dick ache.
“Spread your thighs. Let me see all of you.”
She does as she’s told.
Camille spreads her legs, giving me the perfect view of her pretty pussy that’s glistening with her arousal. A mixture between a moan and grunt forces its way from my throat at the sight of her spread out before me.
I’ve never seen a cunt look so fucking perfect before. She had shaved herself bare the first time I’d ever seen her, and now she has a small patch of dark hair. For that, I’m thankful. I hate when women are bald, it’s too pubescent looking for me. Karina gets waxed, and I hate it every time she does.
Fuck.I shouldn’t even be thinking about her right now or even comparing.
With a sigh, I step closer to the bed, grip Camille’s ankles, and force her legs further apart.