Uncovering Camila (Wildflowers Book 3)

by Vivian Winslow

  He flicks her tit with his tongue, then moves over to the other breast, her nipple sensitive from his touch. Camila’s legs fall open instinctively. God, how badly she wants to wrap her legs around his back and have him fuck her mercilessly. But she bites down on the inside of her cheek and gives in to the sensations, allowing her body to fall into each bite and brush of the tongue.

  Excitement fills Camila as Marshall makes his way down her body. Stopping at her navel, she draws a breath as she waits while the room falls into utter stillness. A cool liquid fills her belly button. “Stick out your tongue,” he tells her.

  Camila does as she’s told.

  Marshall dips his tongue into the honey and then moves over her. He sweeps his honey-covered tongue over hers, stroking it a few more times before returning for more honey. Camila can feel her body begin to warm. His tongue feels incredible on hers. The way he teases and tastes awakens a deeper need in her.

  He takes more honey but this time spreads it around her nipples, sucking as he goes. With his other finger he smears honey over her swollen lips, trying hard not to kiss them as he goes. Marshall sticks his finger inside her mouth for her to suck the rest off the tip. The feel of her tongue makes him groan.

  Marshall has no idea what he’s doing to Camila. On the surface, she’s calm and unmoved. But beneath her exterior is a raging desire, setting her chest aflame and her cunt burning for him.

  Camila feels something else touch her lips. “Open,” he says.

  She does, the taste of strawberry and honey mingling over her tongue. She expects another bite, but it doesn’t happen. Marshall is already taking more honey, but this time he’s moving downward, toward her pussy.

  “You’re even sweeter now,” he groans into her. He licks her pussy until she’s thoroughly wet with her own need. He has her close but doesn’t want her to come just yet.

  Marshall trails honeyed kisses down each of her thighs before continuing down to Camila’s feet. He rests one foot against his chest while he lifts the other and sucks her big toe into his mouth. A lightning bolt shoots right down to her pussy and makes her moan through her sugared lips. Marshall doesn’t stop, inflicting the same pleasure on her other foot. He’s hard right now. His cock twitches seeing Camila primed for his touch. He would love to bury himself inside her, plunge in and out of her until she’s spent. But she doesn’t want his cock at the moment. She wants his touch.

  Marshall resumes his snack, this time breaking off a piece of chocolate. “Suck, but don’t bite it,” he says, holding it over her mouth. He takes the softened chocolate and spreads it over her lips where the honey had been. This time he licks it off of her, careful to ignore his instinct to kiss her. He sucks on a larger piece and smears it over her breasts and her cunt.

  “You taste phenomenal,” he moans, lapping up Camila’s sweetness mixed with the honey and the bitterness of the chocolate. He remains fully focused on her sex now, his tongue licking and probing before entering her. He brings her legs over his shoulders and deepens his kiss further. As his tongue moves in and around her pussy, his thumb strums her clit. Camila begins ascending toward her bliss, a seemingly unknown force working through Marshall to push her forward into that space of pure ecstasy. She tugs on her restraints, wanting to hold on to something.

  Marshall keeps going, sensing and tasting Camila’s climb. Her breathing has become uneven, and she’s no longer still. Her body is ready to come undone beneath him, and he wants to feel and savor all of it.

  All of a sudden she cries louder than before, her body shattering into a million tiny satisfied pieces.

  Marshall releases his hold, quickly unties Camila and removes her mask. She blinks a few times before her eyes come to rest on his face. Her contented expressions tells him everything.

  Without waiting for permission, he picks Camila up and carries her to the bathroom, setting her down next to the clawfoot tub. Camila catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror behind the vanity. She looks exactly like she feels, thoroughly eaten out. Chocolate and honey and traces of red from the strawberry line her lips and her body. Her legs are sticky and thickly coated from the honey, her wanting and Marshall.

  Wordlessly, he helps her into the tub and rinses her body before filling the tub with hot water. Camila lowers herself and settles between Marshall’s legs. “Are you a runner?” She asks, noticing the definition of his calf and thigh muscles. Of all the things to bring up after an unbelievably intimate moment. Although it feels better to acknowledge something benign than the big thing that just happened.

  “Yeah. I ran the Boston Marathon earlier this year. I’ll run the New York in November.”

  Camila nods. There doesn’t seem to be much Marshall hasn’t accomplished. “You seem to enjoy challenges,” she observes. She closes her eyes and leans back onto his chest.

  He kisses her shoulder and moves his hands over her breasts, noticing several bite marks and red blotches where he sucked hard. Seeing his imprint on her undoes him, unleashing the desire in his cock that he’s been holding back.

  Camila feels his readiness and moves forward to give him space, water sloshing over the side and onto the heated marble floors. She doesn’t ask when or where. Instead she waits, extending the same courtesy that Marshall had shown her. She watches as he gets out of the tub and heads out of the bathroom, leaving a trail of wet footprints. Camila counts to three before tracing his steps.

  Camila’s skin prickles at the feel of the air on her wet skin as a warm, summer breeze floats into the bedroom from the terrace. A soft light beckons to her through the French doors. The duvet and pillows from the bed are propped up against a large chaise in the opposite corner. Her heart starts to pound against her chest as she considers what Marshall has in store for her.

  She doesn’t have to worry long though. Camila jumps when she feels an ice-cold bottle pressed against her back.

  Marshall chuckles and wraps his arms around her naked waist, a bottle of Ruinart Rosé in his hand. “I can’t believe you just did that,” she says.

  With his arms still around Camila, he twists the cork until a sudden pop breaks through the sound of their breathing.

  “Where are the glasses?” She asks.

  “I don’t see a need. Do you?”

  Camila shakes her head. Turning around to face him, she says, “I like the way you think.”

  “The feeling is definitely mutual,” he replies, taking a long pull from the bottle before offering some to Camila. She takes a drink, the bubbles from the champagne dancing on her tongue and tickling the back of her throat.

  “This is quite the seduction scene,” she says. “Champagne, strawberries. Who were you planning on having over here tonight?”

  “It’s the usual Hamptons breakfast,” Marshall replies casually. Glancing back at the bedroom with the sheets askew and stained with honey and chocolate he says, “I’d say the scene is in there.”

  Camila assesses the bed and takes another drink. She swallows hard when she feels her pussy tremble at the sight. The remnants of what happened not even an hour ago serve as a stark reminder of the pleasure that being with Marshall brings.

  He holds a strawberry to her lips. “Hungry?”

  Camila nods and takes a bite, savoring the taste of the berry blending with the rosé. What she doesn’t tell him is that she’s hungry for him, not the food.

  She doesn’t have to though. Marshall can sense it. As he watched her blindfolded and bound, and then again in the bathtub, he observed the subtle ways she’d respond to his touch. He couldn’t see it the first time they were together when she had hidden her vulnerabilities behind a tough veneer. This time, however, as soon as her mask was lowered, he could sense the almost imperceptible shift in her body. Gone was the reserved way she held herself. Instead emerged a fully born goddess of true strength and sensuality.

  Lying in the bathtub with her in his arms made Marshall want to disappear into that strength, to steel himself against the world with it. When
he swiped on her picture, he hadn’t been looking for anyone in particular. He’d wanted a distraction, someone to take his mind off the person he most wanted to forget, who up until a month ago had anticipated moving in with him. Relocating to New York was Marshall’s way of starting over, and Tinder was supposed to represent his new, single, carefree lifestyle. Little did he expect he’d meet someone like Camila so quickly.

  Marshall takes another long pull from the bottle, forcing himself to cut the stray thoughts beginning to invade his mind. He looks down at Camila, who’s watching him quietly. He’d give anything to know her thoughts at that moment. If he did, he’d discover that they’re only of him. The minute she’d decided to dare herself to spend the night with him, everything else in her life hit pause. She knows what’s waiting for her back in New York and that it will still be there on Monday. She realizes that tonight is all she has with Marshall, and she can accept that as well.

  “What do you want?” She finally asks.

  Marshall regards her another beat, then gently takes her bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger. It turns him on to see that they’re tender and swollen from his kisses. He swallows the urge that starts to take over. This, this is what he wants to feel right now. Pure desire coupled with the sheer excitement of being with someone who wants him equally. He hasn’t had that in years, and since being with Camila, he questions whether he’s really ever had it.

  He tugs her mouth open slightly and pours a small amount of champagne into it, allowing the champagne to dribble down her chin and over her chest. Marshall darts down to lap it up. Camila leans her head back, inviting him to explore her chest that’s warmed and tickled by the bubbles on her sensitive skin.

  He continues to shower her in the champagne, which trickles down over her breasts to her pussy. With two fingers, he traces the liquid around her navel and to her cunt, mixing the champagne with her own need. He brings it up to their mouths, licking first before offering it to Camila. When she opens her mouth, a jagged breath escapes, the same one that had ripped through the air hours ago. That’s how he knows she wants more.

  Marshall lowers himself to the ground and licks her cunt. He’s addicted to the way she tastes and the way she sounds when she’s climbing. He wants to bring her there again. As he deepens his kiss, she murmurs, “I want you inside me.”

  The invitation makes Marshall moan into her pussy. He lifts himself off the ground and brings her with him to the chaise. Without hesitation or question, he plunges himself so deep inside Camila she calls out his name. The sound is incredible to him. It makes him want to live inside her, to melt into the sensation of being in her wet cunt.

  He lifts her legs over his shoulders and pushes himself deeper. He watches her head roll back and her eyes close. It’s gratifying to make her feel the way she makes him feel. The depth to which his physical body has experienced pleasure has known no bounds since he met her. And he wants more. So much more he feels like a selfish bastard.

  Marshall pulls out completely then plunges inside her again, stretching Camila, making her feel every inch of his hard length. He’s so deep now, and she’s so wet. He takes more champagne, pouring some into her mouth from his. He chases it with intense strokes of his tongue, mingled with tender kisses between their lips. With each stroke she cries out. He watches her, waiting to see how much more of him she can take.

  When she lowers her legs around his waist, he moves slowly, his thrusts deliberate and unhurried. Marshall raises his torso and brings up her thighs with his arms, elevating her hips. He watches her pussy in awe, the way it opens for him, her clit becoming more swollen with his touch. Their cries are no longer muted. Both are intense and coming from some place deep and profound where only mutual bliss can reside. Together they’ve found it and together they’ll both remain as they venture beyond into that boundless abyss.

  Camila reaches up and pulls Marshall to her, her lips and tongue searching and finding his. Everything is forgotten and nothing else matters but the feelings which are taking over them. Camila’s heart pounds against his as he moves in and out.

  Heat envelopes the two lovers as they make their climb. Marshall continues to push himself in and out, fusing his body and lips with Camila’s. She bites down hard on his lips, tearing the thin flesh and whispers that she’s there, ready and waiting for him. The sound of her voice and the taste of her on his tongue sends him with her. He doesn’t want this to end. He’ll edge a bit longer if he can, yet her cries, the trembling in her voice, the pulsing of her cunt makes it impossible. He can’t hold back anymore. Two more jagged thrusts and he joins her in her ecstasy, calling out her name from some undiscovered depth of his being.

  Chapter 25

  Camila’s muscles feel thoroughly worked when she wakes the following morning. She runs a hand over a dark mark on her wrist from the rope and smiles to herself. She’d embraced her dare and feels stronger for having faced her fear. Just because Eliseo had disappointed her doesn’t mean every man she comes across will. He didn’t take away her ability to decide who’s right for her and whom she can trust. Only she can do that. And being with Marshall proved that.

  She slides quietly out from under the duvet. The cool morning air makes her shiver as she pads to the bathroom, careful not to disturb her sleeping lover. The idea of having a lover makes her smile, although it disappears when she realizes how impossible it would be to maintain any kind of relationship, however casual, with him. He doesn’t do casual. She can tell. He’s too fixated on doing what’s right or correct. The gray area of being lovers who see each other whenever it suits isn’t for him.

  Camila examines the marks and stains over her thoroughly fucked body. Most of the food was washed off, but she notices traces of red around her neck and lips. Must be from when I bit him, she smiles to herself. Her sex wakes up at the memory. She splashes warm water on her face and regards herself in the mirror. Her skin appears plump and more radiant than it had in recent weeks. Sex does a body good, she affirms as she walks out of the bathroom, shutting off the light as she goes.

  A sudden noise from the direction of the kitchen startles Camila. She peers out onto the terrace and sees a still sleeping Marshall. Adrenalin starts to pump through her. She throws on his shirt that had been lying in a crumpled heap on the floor and heads toward the muffled sounds that are becoming more distinct the closer she gets to the kitchen. Her heart stops when she sees a woman crouched down rummaging through the cupboards.

  “Marshall, help me up,” the woman says, holding out a hand without bothering to look up. “I’m sorry to wake you so early. I just ran out of . . . .”

  Words fail her when she looks up and sees Camila standing at the entrance to the kitchen dressed in nothing but her son’s coral linen shirt, the same one he’d been wearing when he left for the Baron’s White Party. The very party she’d promised Poppy she would never again attend if her good friend wasn’t going to be there. And it now seems Poppy won’t live long enough to see another party. The thought casts a shadow over her thoughts, and she turns back to this young woman before her.

  She pulls herself up and says, “I’m sorry for intruding.” Her eyes move over Camila in a flash, but not so fast that she doesn’t notice.

  Camila folds her arms in front of her, instantly aware she’s being scrutinized. She clears her throat. “Not at all. It’s your house,” she says, suddenly feeling like the one who’s invading the space. One minute in this woman’s presence and she’s managed to feel judged and intimidated. She can only imagine what it’s like to be in her courtroom.

  “Yes, I guess that’s true,” she replies.

  Camila shifts under the woman’s impenetrable gaze, the same one that Marshall has.

  “You and Marshall have been friends long?” She asks, although her tone implies she thinks she knows the answer.

  Camila shakes her head. “We met last night.” Seems reasonable enough a lie. To imply they knew each other longer would only complicate their story.r />
  His mom raises an eyebrow. “I would’ve thought my son had better judgment than that.”

  Camila clenches her jaw. She isn’t surprised by the woman’s quick assessment as much as she is by how open she is about it. “Perhaps, but given the skanky women at the party, I guess he did the best he could,” she replies. How’s that for honest?

  The judge narrows her gaze at Camila then resumes searching the cupboards.

  “Can I help you find something?” Camila asks.

  “I doubt you would know where it is,” his mother says.

  “Try me. I’d be happy to help,” she offers, hoping it will make her leave sooner.

  “I was looking for honey. When I went to make my tea this morning I realized I’d run out.”

  Camila abruptly walks out of the kitchen and returns a minute later with the jar of honey left on the nightstand and places it on the white marble countertop.

  “Do I even . . . .?” She stares down at the jar then looks back at Camila.

  Camila shakes her head.

  Marshall’s mother clucks her tongue. “Well, I guess it’s good to see him meet someone so fun. Although I doubt his fiancé, Ellen, would agree with me.”

  Camila doesn’t react, knowing that’s exactly what the woman is expecting. Deep down she can feel the too familiar pang of disappointment, followed by its old friend, dread, that’s starting to spread from her chest to her stomach. But she refuses to give the judge the satisfaction of having made her point so succinctly.

  Camila’s silence is response enough though. Norah Douglas highly doubts she’ll be seeing her son’s poor-choice of a one-night stand any time soon.

  “Well, I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.” She clears her throat. “And in case you need it, there’s a Jitney schedule in the guestroom.”