Twister: Party Games, Book 3 (14 page)

And when he lifted his hand and placed it on the side of her throat, when he slipped his other hand between the silken edges of her robe and smoothed his palm over her bare ribcage and behind her back, when he pulled her against his body and took her lips with his, she didn’t stop him.

She kissed him back.

She kissed him with all the desire and need and aching hunger in her heart, her body, her soul.

Her tongue touched his. No, not just touched, mated. Her tongue mated with his, wild and untamed in its strokes. Lachlan groaned into her mouth, hauling her harder to his body as he met her fierce passion with his own. He’d kissed her many times last night, but none meant what this kiss meant. This kiss spoke the words his mind had only barely begun to fathom—he was in love with her. On every level. He lusted after her, desired her, ached for her and existed for her.
This
kiss told him all those things and more. After a night of stalking around his empty house, of pondering the future he’d planned for himself and realizing how shallow and empty that future was—one devoid of emotional attachments beyond his sister and Mac—
this
kiss told him exactly what his future now was. Cameron, a quiet house on a quiet street, a lifetime of passion and love and laughter, a future where he may coach a little league soccer team or chauffeur a little ballerina to and from her class, or maybe even both. A future he’d never considered possible for Lachlan McDermott, media mogul, until Cameron Winters entered his life.

Cameron. Not Kole.

And now that future was here, in his mind, he knew beyond doubt it was the only future he wanted.

Which made him want to kiss Cameron even more.

Kiss her and make love to her and tell her everything in his mind and heart.

But when she kissed him like she did now, the firm length of her body pressed to his with such undeniable need, her fingers tangled in his hair, her tongue stroking his… Words would come later.

After he’d given her all the pleasure one man could. And then more.

He smoothed his hand down her back, the satiny quality of her skin under his palm sending shards of tight heat into his already rigid cock. There wasn’t a hope in hell Cameron could miss his erection. He didn’t think his dick had ever felt so hard, so thick, so long. One touch of her fingers on his shaft and he’d come. Hell, one touch of his own fingers on the rigid organ and he’d likely blow his load. How the hell he was going to release it from his jeans without embarrassing himself was beyond him, but he didn’t care. If he came straight away he’d be hard again in moments. He didn’t doubt that. His passion for Cameron was so absolute all it would take was one breath of her scent, one taste of her lips and he’d be ready to go again.

Sliding his fingers over her arse, he pulled her closer, his balls throbbing. Liquid steel pumped into his dick. Her flesh was heaven in his palm and he groaned, massaging the toned cheek with growing urgency.

Cameron echoed his moan, her hips pushing forward. She ground the curve of her sex to his bulging groin, the insistent pressure on his cock one part bliss, one part torture, equal parts perfection.

Tearing his mouth from her lips, he scored a line over her jaw, down her throat and back up to her ear. “Christ, I want to be inside you,” he groaned. “I want to fill you, stretch you, until our bodies are one.”

His cock jerked in his jeans at the raw confession. He’d never spoken with such base truth during intimacy before. It was cathartic. Fresh heat surged through him. His breath quickened and his pulse pounded in his neck.

“Lachlan…” His name sounded like a whimper in Cameron’s throat. It was an exquisitely erotic sound. He loved it. He wanted to hear it again.

Dragging his hand lower on her backside, he yanked her leg upward, driving his still-constrained erection closer to her pussy. “I want to make you come, babe.” He nibbled the fleshy pad of her earlobe with a not-so-gentle bite. “Over and over.”

She moaned, sinking her nails into his shoulders. “Oh, yes.”

He flicked his tongue into her ear, snared the back of her thigh and pulled her leg higher as he did so. His cock, straining against the denim of his jeans, ground to her sex and he couldn’t miss the damp heat of the contact. She was wet for him. Hot and wet and ready.

But he wanted to give her more. And he wanted to hear her whimper his name again. Wanted to hear her lust for him as much as he wanted to make her explode with it. “I want to lay you out on your bed and pump into you until you beg me to stop.”

She scraped her nails at his back, her breath hitching in shallow gasps. “Please…”

He nipped at the sensitive spot below her ear, inched his fingertip closer to the velvet lips of her pussy. “I want to bend you over the kitchen bench and fuck your sweet, sweet cunt with my tongue.”

She let out a low moan. “Oh God, I want that…”

He stroked the tip of his index finger over her seam, the slick cream of her pleasure making his cock not just ache, but burn with the need to slide into her. “I want to make love to you, Cameron,” he whispered against her throat, travelling the bowed column up to her jaw, her lips. “I want to make you cry out my name. I want to make you come. I want to make you mine.”

“Oh God,” she whimpered, rolling her hips to his. “Oh God, Lachlan, yes, yes.” The sound of his name falling from her lips pushed him over the edge of his control.

He dragged his hands over her naked body beneath the black silk robe. A tremor shuddered through her, her nipples puckering at his hand’s coarse touch. She rolled her head, granting his lips her bowed throat. He took it, sucking on her flesh like a cheesy B-Grade-movie vampire. The uncouth love bite would leave a mark, but he didn’t care. She was his and he wanted the world to know it. And with the raw groan vibrating deep in her chest as he sucked harder on her skin, with the way her nails raked at his back and her hips drove into his, she wanted it too.

It made his head swim with concentrated rapture.

And then she reached for his fly.

Oh no.

A world of memories crashed over him: his own hand wrapped around his engorged dick, his stare locked on the poster of Kole on his wall, his stepmother catching him, taunting him, teasing him…

Cameron began to lower his zipper.

Oh fuck, fuck, she’s going to, she’s going to…

Lachlan froze. For one split second, he was the teenage boy trapped by his hormones, his fantasy, his life. He felt his balls swell with urgent heat, felt his cock spasm. He sucked in a sharp breath, wanting to stop Cameron. Wanting to help her. Christ, he was a man, a man, not a boy. He was…he was…

His cock sprung free of his lowered fly, jutting straight up, and Cameron’s fingers found it.

“Oh my God, Lachlan,” she whispered, her gaze finding his eyes, her fingers wrapping his length with such exquisite pressure he couldn’t draw breath. “You are huge.”

Pleasure so raw and elemental and primitive surged through him at her words, her touch. It rendered him incapable of controlling the uncontrollable. His desire for her.

He came.

Without warning, he came, his seed erupting from his dick like a goddamn geyser, covering Cameron’s fingers, the back of her hand, her stomach in the thick white wads.

He came. Like a teenage boy.

And the moment he did, Cameron dropped to her knees and took his spurting, leaking, pulsating cock in her mouth.

And his orgasm continued to claim him.

Chapter Eight

Lachlan’s release flowed down Cameron’s throat. It was salty and sweet and thick and she swallowed it all. Her heart slammed in her chest, a frantic tattoo she felt all the way through her body, her core, through the centre of her femininity and in the very junction of her thighs. Her clit throbbed. Her pussy contracted. With every jerking pump of Lachlan’s cock in her mouth, she drew closer to her own release.

The surreal notion rolled over her. She was going to orgasm for no other reason than the fact she’d made Lachlan come with just a single touch.

Was that even possible?

Yes, it was. With this man, everything was possible. How could it not be when the very substance of her sexuality, her sensuality, responded to him so powerfully?

She raked her hands over his jean-clad thighs, hooked her fingers under his loose waistband and inched his jeans down over his hips, feasting on his cock and his pleasure as she did so. He bucked into her mouth and his fingers knotted in her hair, his groans a carnal soundtrack she’d never tire of hearing.

When his legs were free of clothing, she smoothed her hands back up his bare thighs, loving the way his hair rasped against her fingers. His legs were long and lean and muscular. Strength without overt power. Her pussy constricted at their latent steel and she drew her lips lower down his length. His pleasure still flowed into her mouth, spurts of release growing farther apart. She took it all, wanting to show him how much his early orgasm affected her.

“Cam…” he groaned, his fingers tightening in her hair, his flat stomach hitching against her forehead. “Babe…I’m sorry…I didn’t…”

She danced her fingers over his inner thighs and cupped his balls in a teasing grip firm enough to make him moan. She didn’t want him apologizing. Not for wanting her, being aroused by her so much. Sliding her lips closer to his shaft’s root, she drew sucking pressure on his cock.

“Christ, Cameron,” His hips bucked forward, his cock—still hard—pushing a little deeper into her mouth. “I’m sorry…please don’t think…I didn’t want to…”

The words fumbled over each other, his voice a hoarse whisper above her head. With a slow pace, she slid her mouth up his cock, stopping only when Lachlan crumpled over her, half-laughing, half-begging for mercy.

“N-no more, babe.” He staggered back a step, just enough for his length to pop free of her lips. He found her jaw with his hands and tilted her head upward. “It’s…it’s too good. I can’t…”

She lifted her gaze to his face, the utter rapture smoldering there making her heavy pussy tight with need. Her clit throbbed, swollen with blood and want. She ached for him to touch her, to take her over the edge, and yet, with the salt of his seed still on her tongue, she’d never felt so sated.

It was an exquisite contradiction she reveled in.
He
was a contradiction, Lachlan. Her Lachlan.

Her Lachlan?
Did that mean—

Before the rest of the question could form in Cameron’s mind, Lachlan tugged her from the floor, his eyes afire with promises.

“You drive me beyond control, Cameron Winters.” He cupped her face with a steady hand, brushing his thumb over her bottom lip. “Never have I lost the power over my own body, never have I come before I allowed myself, but you reduce me to a horny boy.”

His words sent a flutter of wicked delight through her belly. She smiled, trailing her fingers up the length of his stomach, over his chest to his jaw. “You’re not apologising for what just happened, are—”

Lachlan didn’t let her finish. Without warning, he scooped her off her feet and flung her over his shoulder. “I will apologise,” he promised, “but first...”

He strode through her living room, carrying Cameron with ease. She let him, her clit a throbbing button of impatient want, her breath shallow and rapid. She knew where he was taking her. The kitchen.

Five heartbeats later, he lowered her to her feet. He didn’t say a word. Instead, he skimmed his hands under the loose caress of her robe, holding her stare with his as he explored her body. For a moment, she almost let the silken garment slip from her shoulders, but he stayed it, returning it to its place. “Not yet,” he murmured with a slow shake of his head.

A shiver rippled through her.

And then a tremble shook him when, with a gentle push and pull on her hips, he turned her away from him.

The island counter of her small kitchen sat before her, the only items resting on its black granite surface a vase of native orchids, a derailleur cable cutter she’d used the day before while working on the Triumph, and a notepad. Her gaze flicked over each one, her mind roaring with what was about to happen.

As if he knew her thoughts, Lachlan stepped closer to her body and pressed his hips to her backside. He slipped his hands under the hem of her robe, his lips nuzzling the side of her neck as, with a silent command, he bent her forward, one palm on her belly pulling her back into his body, the other sliding up her spine to bend her over.

Her bare breasts swung forward, her nipples kissing the cool granite. She hissed in a swift breath, the contact sending electric shards of sensation through her. Or maybe it was the cool air on her sodden pussy. Air there because Lachlan had bunched her robe up over her backside, revealing her sex to the room.

To his gaze.

She stood bent partially over the counter, her legs splayed slightly, her palms pressed to the granite, her eyes closed. It was at once a submissive position and one of power, and she’d never been so turned on. When Lachlan’s hands stroked over the curve of each arse cheek, she couldn’t stop the deep tremble claiming her.

When his fingers dipped to her sex, she couldn’t suppress her whimper. She didn’t want to.

“You are so wet, Cameron.” He spoke at her shoulder, the length of his body pressing against hers. His fingers parted her folds, penetrating her heat with one deep, slow thrust. “So wet and so tight.”