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Well, when she asked like that.
I found my heart beating faster, my chest fluttering, as I headed upstairs, into where the bedroom was dressed up—rose petals and a champagne bucket by the bed, the whole works. The city out the massive window was breathtaking at night, but I wasn’t looking that way, a little more captured by the rack of lingerie next to the bed.
A whole collection, and every one, Cameron had designed on me. Her eyes scoping out every inch of me, every one of them designed to flatter me, designed to adore me. Thousands and thousands of women out there were going to wear these sets, but they wouldn’t fit a single one of them like they fit me—they’d always and forever be my pieces.
Cameron made me feel sexy in ways I never realized I could. I slipped the dress off, hanging it up in the ensuite closet, and I felt my chest pound as I racked through the lingerie sets, lingering for a while before I picked out one—the first one she’d made in the collection, the first one she’d designed based on me. Maybe I was just sappy, but watching myself in the full-length mirror by the bed as I slipped into it, I had to admit it was a good choice either way. The laced garters simple and elegant, and everything leading into the subtle heart shape worked into negative space where everything guided the eye to and accentuated my waist… my waist that Cameron had always loved so much.
I stopped into the bathroom just long enough to spritz myself with a little bit of perfume, freshen myself up, and I slid onto the bed with my heart pounding, trying to sound calm and casual as I called out, “Darling, I, uh… I’m ready.”
I was lying. I wasn’t ready at all, not for the sight of her stepping in wearing her own set, black lace wrapping her up like the best gift I could ever receive, eyes sultry and dark in the low lights as she shut the door behind her, stepping towards the bed, eyes ravishing me as she took me in.
“An excellent choice,” she said, her voice low as she walked along the side of the bed, running her fingertips over my body as she went—she left electricity in her wake, my body arching into her, even the littlest touch lighting me up right now. “You look perfect. Gorgeous, sexy, and oh-so-delicious.” She slid the champagne from the bucket, wrapping a towel around the cork, and she held that intense eye contact with me that made it hard to breathe as, slowly, she popped it open. “And perfectly ready for me to fuck you to my heart’s content.”
“Mm…” I bit my lip, nodding a little too quickly. “However you like, Cameron.”
She licked her lips, a smile flashing over her expression. “Such a good girl for me. Sit up. You’re going to have a little drink first. I know how a little champagne helps you get in the mood, and I want you very, very ready for all the things I’m about to do.”
I sat up, my body doing what she asked without my input, and I took the flute as she handed it to me, sitting down next to me and sliding a hand over my thigh.
“Drink, London,” she whispered, tipping the glass up towards my lips, sliding her fingers higher up my thigh, towards my aching center. I closed my eyes with a low, contented noise, touching the glass to my lips, sipping at the crisp, delicate flavor of the wine—gasped and almost spilled it when she danced her fingers higher, brushing ever so lightly over my center before gliding up my waist. “You’re so pretty like this… such a perfect little doll for me to fuck.”
I nodded in a breathless haze, drinking more of the wine. “All yours, Cameron… do anything you want.”
“Mm. That’s what I like to hear.” She slipped her hand up over my breast, cupping, feeling the shape of it, flicking her thumb over my nipple as she bent in and pressed a kiss to my neck, and I moaned, leaning my body into her, surrendering myself to her. I took a longer sip, desperate for what it would make her do—what would come next—and it felt a little fuzzy at the edges of my awareness, not drunk but just hazy enough to make it all feel even more like a hot, wet dream.
“Cameron…”
“Tell me what you want, London,” she whispered, brushing her lips over my ear and back down my neck.
“I want you to fuck me.” It slipped out without me even thinking anything, and she murmured a low laugh against my skin before she licked up my neck, back to my collar.
“That’s a good girl. I will. I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll come while screaming my name, and I’m going to bury you between my thighs to lick my pussy until I’ve taken every last little thing I want from you. Do you understand, London?”
“God, Cameron…” I tipped back more of the drink, desperate to get rid of it at this point—the only thing between me and Cameron’s fingers that were slipping down to the top of my panties now, teasing just short of where I needed her, but every sip just made the tingling in my core ache more. “Yes. I understand. Please.”
“That’s what I want to hear. You’re such a good little doll for me, a pretty little fuck toy…”
“Mm.” I let her take me by the chin and tilt my head to meet her, kissing me long and slow and deep, her tongue slipping into my mouth. It sent fire through me, and I ached for her, ached for her all over me, inside me, everything. Her hand slipped down between my legs, cupping my center through the coarse lace fabric, and I moaned into her mouth, letting her take me, have me how she liked…
She pulled away with me shaking, hips rocking against her hand without me trying to, and she put her thumb on my lips. “Tongue out, London. Like you’re ready to service me. Be a good girl.”
I put my tongue out—didn’t even think, just obeyed, looking up at her through my lashes like I knew she liked, like I knew got her wet for me. She took the champagne flute, almost empty by now, from my hand, and she took me by the back of the head, tipping my head back and pouring the rest of the champagne over my tongue. It shot heat and arousal through me like a molten liquid—some of it pouring into my mouth, some down my chin and over my breasts, all of it messy, dirty from Cameron using me. She put her finger on my chin, pushing up, and I closed my jaw.
“Swallow.”
I did. She licked her lips.
“Good girl.” She slipped her hand into the panties, and I moaned hot, hard, loud into her when her fingers met me—rocked my hips up against her perfect hand, against where her fingers worked over my clit, and I felt like I’d die if she ever took them away, if I ever had to go without offering my body up to her like this—
She took me slowly, taking her time, enjoying every second of it and every desperate groan I made, every plea for her to fuck me, to use me, to take me, until her fingers slipped inside me, and I spread out and cried out her name, desperate for her to fuck me into the mattress. She picked up, going harder, ravaging me, ravaging my pussy, taking me as hard as she wanted as long as she liked, and it felt like she was deconstructing me from the inside—taking me apart in every perfect way, and I melted into it, Cameron becoming everything, gasping her name until I was screaming it, clawing into the sheets.
I came hard, savagely, on her hand, the orgasm tearing itself free and throbbing through my whole body as I screamed her name over and over, everything else whiting out to a distant point, everything except Cameron’s perfect face and her eyes, fixed on mine, so perfect, so… so…
I softened, eventually, melting back down into the bed, laughing breathlessly, and Cameron bit her lip through the sexiest smile, caressing my face before she crashed down onto me and met my lips with hers, kissing me, kissing, kissing.
“I love you,” I sighed, once she pulled away, and she laughed, gently, perfectly, kissing my collar.
“I love you, too, darling. Do you need a minute?”
