Then breaking the seal between our mouths, he positioned himself and mastered me with long, deep strokes of his hard cock inside my needy pussy. I grabbed his ass. Scoring his skin with my nails, I lifted my hips to take him deeper.
“Brad, yes.” I wanted to tell him I wanted him closer.
“Cam . . .” He breathed out my name, thrusting deep inside me. “I want more. More of you.” Pounding deeply, he murmured, “Not enough,” and then he groaned.
His voice. His cock. They were so deep. So perfect.
“Brad.” I burned, burned so hot for him. Tumbling in the fire. Shaking with desire.
“Coming. You come with me.” He hammered so hard, so erratically.
His hands gripping my ass, I broke apart on his impossible need. The pieces of me already broken in the flames turned to ash. He could blow me away with a single hot breath. Or a single wish.
But I wasn’t afraid anymore. I was his, and being his was what mattered.
Wrapping my arms and legs around him, I held on tightly while I had him, while I could make his desire my desire. His wish, my wish.
I would make every day sweet for him, be the best version of myself I possibly could for him. Until I was gone.
Chapter 55
* * *
Bradley
The melody of a complete song came to me as I held Cam in my arms afterward.
Taking her by the hand, I pulled her from the bed, and she followed. She had her own will. It was a strong one, but when she bowed it to me in hushed moments like these, I truly felt like a king. Not even music made me feel as complete as she did.
At the step down to the shower, I spoke. “My lady, might I unclasp your bra so we can shower together?” My chin dipped, I peered at her.
“Yes, of course.” With no hesitation, as if it weren’t a big deal when we both knew it was, I asked her to trust me, and she readily yielded.
She turned, and I took a long look at her from behind. Her hair was an inky mantle. Her spine elegantly curved. Her legs long and shapely. Her posture regal. Her derriere two globes of enticing perfection.
I brushed a glossy section of her hair to the front and pressed a long kiss to the sensitive area between her neck and shoulder. Predictably, she shivered. Raising my head to undo her bra, I praised her.
“You have such beautiful bronze skin.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Gently, I turned her around. I took the scraps of transparent lace she held away from her tits. Sliding them down her slender arms, I praised her again.
“Your breasts are lovely.” Tossing the bra aside, I brushed the back of my knuckles across the tight raspberry tips. “Perfection. My perfection.”
I stepped forward and took her lips, kissing her deeply and tenderly. She clung to my arms, and my hands went to her ass. She was wet. I was hard, but I forced myself to break the connection between our mouths.
“Shower,” I said, reverting to basic instructions. She called it my caveman mode.
I didn’t care what she called it, only that it seemed to get me what I wanted in short order. I wanted her clean so I could dirty her again. Although I’d just had her, I wanted her again and again. My eyes blazed as she stepped down and turned the water on, glancing back at me.
“Join me,” she said, and I did. Taking an elastic from around her wrist, she gathered and secured her hair. Even in a haphazard updo, she was as beautiful as a queen in one of her stories.
“Let me wash you.” From the alcove, I pumped gel into my cupped palm.
“Only if you let me return the favor,” she said, placing her hands on my bare chest and glancing up at me. As warm water pelted us from the showerhead, the droplets sparkled in her hair and on her lashes like stars twinkling in the dark.
“I’m yours to do with what you wish.” I grinned slowly. “After I have my turn.”
She nodded, and I lathered my hands, soaping long sudsy strokes over her creamy soft skin. Her front first, where I paid loving homage to her tits. My twisting her nipples made her moan, and I pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her parted lips. My breath streamed inside her. I wanted even the air she inhaled to be mine.
“Alone,” I sang softly to the melody that had come to me. I could see the blue of the ocean and the gold of the setting sun outside the window. Inside the shower, it set fire to her hair. “Adrift on a lonely sea. No one until you washed ashore to complete me.”
“Mmm,” she said, turning as I spun her. Leaning forward, she put her delicate hands on the travertine wall in front of her while I smoothed soapy suds all over her backside. “Your voice echoes in here like a concert hall. It gives me chills.”
I knew it did. I could see and feel the fine bumps on her skin.
“Whose song are you singing?” she asked.
“My own.” With my knee, I parted her legs and reached around her, swiping my fingers over her pussy and through her tantalizing folds. “Mine for you. I hear music all the time since I made you mine.”
She gasped as I swirled my thumb over her swollen, slippery clit. She turned to glance at me over her shoulder. “Brad, sing to me. I love your voice. Take me here in the shower. Just like this.”
“Yes, my lady.” Emotion, another gift she gave me, tightened my throat.
She’d never shared the exact details of the rape with me, but I’d read the hospital discharge report. I knew one man had held her, jacking off on her front side, while the other had raped her from behind. I also knew not to focus on those details. They only made me feel murderous. Instead, I focused on her and the gift that her trust was.
I pressed a kiss to her shoulder and traced the slender line of it with the tip of my tongue.
“Brad, that feels so good.” Her voice was low, throaty. She was a dream come true, not me.
“I see you,” I sang, following the line of her spine with the tips of my fingers all the way down to her ass. “The lady. The woman I want. The one for me.”
I palmed her perfect ass, caressing each globe, listening and reveling in the sound of her broken breaths.
“You fill the silence with sound. Words with value. Me with meaning.” I reached around and found the center of her need. “You have my heart, my lady.”
“Yes, Brad,” she whispered as I positioned and stroked my cock smoothly inside her warm, welcoming heat.
Once. Twice. On the third stroke, I felt her tightening around me. I dropped my head, putting my mouth on hers, and swallowed her cries. Stiffening, I poured all that I was inside her.
“Home,” I sang, stroking languidly in and out of her. Rippling aftershocks of pleasure slipped from her and flowed out of me. “Returning, my lady. Always returning to you, my forever home.”
• • •
More, always more of her. As we lounged in the bathtub, her straddling me, the head of my hard cock broke the water line between our naked bodies. But for the moment, having her had to wait.
“Does it hurt?” I asked with my right hand on the side of her face, my thumb stroking softly just beneath the discoloration of the bruise.
“Not much.” Laying her hand over mine, delicate and feminine to large and masculine, she pressed her cheek more firmly into the frame my fingers provided. “Do you . . .” Her eyes pinched at the corners as she glanced out the one-directional window at the waves. “Looking like this, do you still want me to come with you to the gala?”
“Of course I do,” I said soft and low. I controlled it, the violence inside me, though I wanted to kill Pete for what he’d done to her. “This time, though, I pay for the dress and all the accessories.”
“People might talk,” she said, and when her gaze returned to mine, I could see the troubled sheen of trepidation in it.
“They’d assume I hit you. Is that what’s worrying you?”
“Yes.” Her hand left mine, her finger heading straight for her mouth.
“Don’t.” I caught her hand, bringing it to my mouth inste
ad, and pressed my lips to each one of her fingertips. “Don’t be nervous. They can think what they want to think.”
“I want to be an asset for you.”
“You’re more than that, Cam. You aren’t a thing. You’re a person, one with the sweetest soul I’ve ever known. A worthy partner. An incredibly beautiful and bold one. Your support. Having you here. The selfless way you care for me.” I exhaled, overwhelmed by how much was in my heart for her. “I’m sorry. It’s easier to express how I feel with music.”
After the gala, I would open the closed door on my heart. I’d get my favorite guitar and play the entire song, show her properly, somewhere special, how I felt about her.
“I understand.” She placed her hand on my face like I had hers. “It’s that way for me with words. Only in stories, not songs.”
“Melodies bring order to the confusion inside.” My gaze melding to hers, I nodded. “Lyrics help me string together my random thoughts.”
“You’re expressing your deepest emotions. It’s more than an escape—it’s taking the world inside yourself outside of it.” She tilted her head. “Does music do that for you?”
“Yes, it does.” My eyes were wide with wonder as I stared at her. She was so sexy, my siren and my muse. So wise.
“You need to bring it back into your day-to-day life.”
“It’s there, Cam.”
“Not just advising others. Being creative, it’s an irresistible part of you. All the parts of you are. A complete you,” she whispered, “is better than a happy ending.”
“But don’t you see?” I searched her eyes. “This isn’t a story, Cam. It’s me and you together.”
“Yes. I have hope in my heart again because of you. Good memories, so many good ones, in place of the bad.”
“We’ll make more. Each and every day.”
She glanced down. “Would you make love to me once more?”
“Yes, babe.” I released her and shaped her tits with my hands, swiping the pads of my thumbs across her responsive nipples. “Spread your knees wider and just climb on.”
Wrapping my fingers around her upper arms, I lifted her. She reached between us, positioning my cock as I brought her down. With her small hands on my forearms for balance, my larger ones were possessive as I glided them up and down her back. She moved, riding me slowly at first, then faster. Mesmerized, I watched her face tighten with pleasure. Warm water splashed out of the tub onto the floor.
“Brad. Oh, Brad,” she cried out, only a few moments later.
Groaning, I succumbed to her call, lifting my hips, all of me hard. All of me for her, I filled her full of all of me.
Chapter 56
* * *
Camaro
“Miss Moltepulciano?”
“Yes,” I replied to the uniformed attendant who’d helped me out of the hired car at the gala.
“This way.” He offered me his arm. “Mr. Marshall is expecting you.”
“Where is he?” I asked, holding my full skirt off the red carpet runner with one hand and resting the other on my appointed escort’s arm.
“In the planning room.”
I shook my head. “Of course he is.” Businessman Bradley in his element.
Inside the etched glass doors, the historic Bronson theater was huge. Wide painted ceilings with art deco fixtures soared over plush seating areas for eating appetizers, sipping cocktails, raising money for charity, or closing lucrative business deals.
“It’s perfect,” I said softly, stepping through the pair of tall doors to the right of the entrance. Inside, the crowded planning room was filled with uniformed waiters and luxuriously dressed support staff with name tags. I searched for the one I wanted.
“You’re perfect,” Brad said from behind me, low and soft, his voice giving me chills like it always did. But other parts of me heated at the memory of the things he did to me so wonderfully while employing that same tone.
As I spun around, he stepped around me.
“Stunning.” His eyes were hypnotic cobalt blue. “What color is that dress?”
“Champagne blush.”
“The satin sheen is amazing. It’s beautiful. Almost worthy of you.”
“Thank you, Brad. You look amazing too.”
“You’ve seen me in this tux before.”
I nodded, but back then, I didn’t love him. Looking at him now with my heart so full, I was certain the emotion shimmered brighter than the sheen of my gown beneath the chandelier’s lights.
“How’s the planning going?” I asked.
“According to plan.” He raised a finger to a passing staff member wearing a tux not nearly as nice as his. “Reginald, could you get me the Winston box from the safe, please?”
“Absolutely, Mr. Marshall.”
As Reginald hurried off, Brad took my hands. “The bodice conforms to you like the Avery Rose lingerie does.”
“It’s a Lace Lowell original.”
He leaned in to whisper in my ear. “You’re an original. I had in mind to do something tomorrow in a garden, but with you here looking like that, maybe tonight after the show would be better.”
“Mr. Marshall.” Clearing his throat, Reginald returned and winced as Brad turned his head and glared. “Sorry to interrupt, sir.” He placed a black velvet jewelry box into his boss’s hand and spun away.
“What’s that?” My eyes rounded as Brad opened the box to reveal an elaborate double-strand necklace of filigree platinum encrusted with hundreds of diamonds.
“For you, my lady.” His eyes were dark as he set the box aside and came toward me.
“No way.” I shook my head.
“Yes. Dress and accessories, you agreed.”
I wasn’t so sure I’d actually agreed to anything. “But accessories are shoes. Not a piece of jewelry more expensive than your house.”
“Good guess.” One of his dark blond brows rose to disappear beneath his artfully tossed hair.
“Brad.” I stomped my stiletto heel.
“Cam, I suggest you not do that again.” His gaze dipped, and his eyes flared with heat when they met mine again. “Your tits might pop out of that low-cut bodice. I wouldn’t mind, but I’d prefer our guests not know what I do.”
“Which is?” I asked, my breaths shortened from the hunger in his gaze as he looked at me.
“That you are even more perfect out of that dress than you are in it.”
“Thank you.”
“You are a gift. The necklace is on loan. May I put it on you?”
“Yes.” I turned to give him my back.
“Those laces I will undo string by string later,” he whispered, his breath hot on my neck as he draped the necklace over my coiffed head.
Beaming, I turned around. “How does it look?” My hand went to the strand that draped coolly around my neck, like a choker in the front. In the back, it looped low between my shoulder blades.
“You look like a queen. My queen.” He offered me his arm. “Ready to stand at the entrance and greet our guests with me?”
“Yes.” I lifted my chin. “I’m ready.”
“Then let’s go.” He turned and led me back the way I had come.
I had a stray thought that with him, even the way backward seemed like something entirely brand new.
“Do you think anyone will come this early?” I asked. Glancing through the glass at the entrance, I noticed reporters with video cameras setting up on either side of the red carpet behind the barricades.
“Some will. Most deals will be done before the concert even starts.”
But not his. Not the one I hoped for him.
I only had to convince Brad to go onstage with the band. With the CEOs of Black Cat Records and Zenith Productions in the audience, in addition to several lesser music labels, I was confident his talent as a musician would do the rest. If only he would agree.
“What position is Aces High in the concert schedule?” I asked, practically purring as he placed his strong arm around my wa
ist.
“First.”
“Opening?”
“I kept them in. They were adamant. But—”
“You need to go on with them,” I blurted, not wanting to miss my chance.
“No.” He shook his head.
“Yes.” I frowned, but this time I didn’t stomp my foot.
“Cam, we talked about this.” He gave me a firm look.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Mary Timmons in a long beaded black gown exiting a limo alongside Charles Morris wearing a traditional tux.
“Please, Brad.” Time was running out. The players were arriving. “They’re a good band, but you make them a great one. Do it for them, if not for you. They need your help.”
“It’s not a long-term solution, me filling in.” He didn’t say no. He wouldn’t say no. Brad would never let down someone who needed him.
The man was a hero. My hero. In a better world, perhaps he could have been mine.
It was a solution. Short term could become long term—not for us, but with him and his music and the band. But I didn’t push, not overly.
“I’d love to see you onstage again.”
“I would for you, babe, but a tux isn’t right for a rock performance.”
I smiled. “I sent over some things with the guys.”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you conspiring with those reprobates against me?”
Not against. Never against him.
“For you,” I said, and gave him a nudge in the direction I hoped he was already leaning.
“Good thing I put them on first. Separate me and them from the likes of superstars like Anthem.”
I knew Anthem. They were good. Gale Lafleur was a compelling front man. But to me, there was no comparison. Brad with his voice and his guitar was in another stratosphere entirely.
“Miss Moltepulciano.” Arriving at the entrance, Mary took my hand. “Good to see you again.” She kissed my cheek.
I cringed at her touch, not from the affection, but because of the bruise. It was covered with makeup but still sore to the touch.
The Right Wish Page 30