Home > Down London Road (On Dublin Street #2)(69)

Down London Road (On Dublin Street #2)(69)
Author: Samantha Young

He stroked the cheeks of my ass and I would have stumbled forward into the mantel if he hadn’t wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me back into him. Something hard nudged my bu**ocks and I didn’t need his sudden stutter of breath to tell me it was his arousal.

Warm lips barely touched my shoulder, and then his arm was gone but not his warmth.

The sound of a zipper behind me made me slick with anticipation, my breathing growing louder in the quiet of the room. Clothes whispered and I saw his T-shirt fall to the floor out of the corner of my eye, and then the fabric of his jeans was gone against my behind, the throbbing naked heat of his c**k digging into the curve of my butt.

And then that was gone too.

Confused, I twisted my head over my shoulder, my gaze dropping to the rug in front of his empty fireplace. Naked, hard, Cam looked up at me with searing eyes. He lay there, knees bent, arms behind him, palms pressed to the floor.

He held up a hand, not saying a word, and I turned to take it. Positioning myself over him, I blushed, trembling as I stood there with my feet on either side of his hips, so vulnerable and open to him.

Cam tugged on my hand, and I followed the motion, lowering myself to my knees, the rug a soft pillow against them. Taking his erection in hand, Cam guided it to my entrance, and as I lowered myself farther, he filled me, sliding into my wet channel with a satisfaction that made us both gasp. I clasped his shoulders and eased back up ever so slightly, the delicious friction causing a pool of coiling tension in my lower belly. My lips parted in a delighted exhalation, and my eyes hooked on Cam’s as my hips began to undulate against his in perfect rhythm.

It was intense, watching the pleasure escalate in his eyes as he watched it in mine. My skin began to burn and I tried to move faster, chasing climax, but Cam slowed me, gripping my hips to falter my movement. His eyes washed over my face, taking in every tiny detail, making me feel more naked than I’d ever felt before.

I shook my head, silently telling him to stop. His grip on my hips hardened. I couldn’t look away. I wanted to look away. It was so much. Too much. Feeling tears prick my eyes, I leaned forward, crushing my br**sts against him, wrapping my arms around his neck, my lips in his hair as I rode him with torturously slow strokes.

Feeling a gentle tug on my hair, I let him pull me up, my back arching under his hold. Warm, wet heat captured my nipple as he took my right breast into his mouth, his other hand squeezing and fondling the left, pinching my nipple between forefinger and thumb. A cry fell from my lips as a sharp surge of pleasure shot between my legs, and I clutched the nape of his neck tightly, moving faster whether he wanted me to or not.

His mouth moved, pressing wet kisses over my breast, and I slammed down on him, needing more, needing everything. He groaned against my skin, his fingers digging into the muscles in my back.

‘Cameron,’ I breathed as the tension built and built, my hips moving faster against his. ‘I’m close. So close …’ Wanting his mouth when I came, I tugged gently on his hair, drawing his face up to mine, my lips falling on his, my tongue sliding deep into his mouth for a kiss made up of eroticism, of pure longing.

The tension snapped inside me. I came with a muffled cry in his mouth, and my muscles momentarily locked around him as my sex clenched his cock, wave after wave of pulsating pleasure cascading over me. I fell against him completely, my forehead on his shoulder as he pumped into me a few times before the wet warmth of his release exploded inside me, his hard grunt in my ear as he came, causing my inner muscles to pulse around him a few more times.

We stayed there for a good while, wrapped around each other.

Not saying a word.

Not needing to.

Cam groaned. ‘I have to move in an hour.’

We were lying on the rug, the faux fur blanket from his couch that Becca had bought as a moving-in gift now thrown over us. My head rested on Cam’s chest, my legs tangled with his, as his fingers teased through my hair.

‘Boo to work,’ I said with a pout, tracing the tattooed curlicues on his right arm.

‘I know. I could stay here forever.’

I smiled against his skin, utterly delighted. ‘You know, the only thing that would make this more perfect would be a real fire in that fireplace.’

He gave a huff of laughter. ‘I’ll light some candles next time.’

‘Very nice. Has anyone told you you’re a bit of a romantic?’

‘Nope. That’s definitely the first time I’ve been called that.’

Surprised, I tilted my head to look into his face. ‘Seriously?’

‘Seriously.’ His lips twitched. ‘You think I’m romantic? Baby, that doesn’t say much for those ass**les you’ve dated.’

I grinned back at him. ‘Actually, you have your moments.’

With soft eyes, he gave my shoulder a squeeze. ‘You make it easy.’

‘See!’ I cried softly, my eyes glittering with utter contentment. ‘That was romantic.’

‘It was?’

‘Yes. Surely, you’ve been romantic with ex-girlfriends?’

Why oh why did I ask that? Did I really want to hear about the ex-girlfriends?

Thankfully, Cam sidestepped the question. Unfortunately, he sidestepped it by asking one. ‘So was Malcolm romantic? That Callum guy?’ There was a definite edge to the question, so I thought I’d best tread carefully. But honestly.

‘Callum could be very romantic. All hearts and flowers and shit like that.’

Cam grunted. ‘Shit like that?’

I shrugged, feeling okay talking about it now that I was wrapped in the arms of something real. ‘Looking back, it all seems fake. We were together two years. He met Cole a few times. Never met Mum. I saw him every other weekend when I could. He sent me flowers, bought me nice things, went all out on Valentine’s Day. I met his parents but knew very little about them. Hung out with some of his friends and knew even less about them. I don’t know if I even knew Callum. I know for a fact he didn’t know me. So, yeah … shit like that. I’d take hot sex against a desk with a guy who knows exactly what he’s getting into – pardon the pun – over flowers and chocolates any day.’

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