by Zoey Derrick
Oh, for hell. “I wish it was my birthday every day if it means I get woken up like this,” I whisper, and she still doesn’t stop. I lift the sheets up so I can look down at what she’s doing. I love watching Cami suck on and play with my cock. It is a beautiful sight to see.
She doesn’t disappoint. I make eye contact with her just as her tongue makes contact at the base of my shaft, and my eyes flutter. It is, like, the sweetest torture a man could ask for, waiting impatiently for the prize moment when a woman takes you into her mouth.
Cami slowly licks and kisses her way up my shaft. I can hear and feel the clink of her tongue ring on each of my piercings as she passes them, and each passing kiss is more and more excruciating than the last.
Finally she reaches the head and I wait in anticipation of what she will do next, but she does nothing; she just stares at me, love and affection in her eyes, and I can tell she is waiting for me to say something or squirm or do anything that tells her I want her to continue. But two can play at this game. She opens her mouth and blows hotly, and I moan. Dammit, she wins and I squirm, begging her to touch me again.
Her tongue slides past her lips and my heart rate increases with the anticipation I feel, wanting and needing her tongue on me. She licks once; he twitches. Twice, he twitches again and the raging fire of orgasm consumes my veins. She hasn’t touched me and there is absolutely nothing I can do to stop it. I groan as the orgasm explodes and her mouth covers the head of my cock, trying desperately to catch as much as she can. My eyes close as her tongue finishes me off and my orgasm subsides. “Fuck me,” I breathe, “how the hell did you do that?” I ask her.
She giggles a little bit. “I’ve been down there a while.” Well, don’t I feel stupid. “But it was on purpose. I was trying to drive you crazy so that you’d explode, I just—” She laughs. “I didn’t expect it to happen like that.”
I smile at her. “Come here,” I say, and she crawls up my body, straddling me, and I take her head in my hands, kissing her like nobody’s business, and she moans into my mouth. Her tongue tastes of sweet Cami and me, and it never ceases to amaze me how wonderful it tastes.
My hands slide down her neck, over her shoulders, and it takes me all of two seconds to realize that she is naked. My erection is hot and hard once again, and I take her breasts in my hand and squeeze. She doesn’t flinch, but the moan she lets out tells me that something is off. I pull my head back and look at her. “Did I hurt you?” She shakes her head. “Then?”
“They’re just tender.”
“Oh, too much playing with them?” I cock an eyebrow at her.
She smiles. “It’s never too much, but they are very sensitive.” I use my fingers to lightly graze the peaks of her nipples, and they harden instantly and she moans.
“Mmm, I could get used to this.” I sit up slightly and, very gently, take one into my mouth, gently sucking and licking. Her hand goes into my hair and her hips start to rock back and forth across my erection. I reach between us, pulling him free and lining him up. She slides back onto him slowly. I release her nipple and lick and kiss my way to the other. As soon as I take it into my mouth she slides down my cock hard and fast. I hiss and try to control my sucking. I don’t want to hurt her; I want this to feel good.
She doesn’t stop her motions, sliding up and down my cock. I can feel her hot wetness sliding down onto my balls, and I know she is beyond turned on. Her pace increases from want to need, and I release her nipple and slide my way back to the other. Gently rubbing the one I just left with my thumb, I feel her nipples harden further, and the faint red blush washes over her skin. The muscles in her pussy clamp down hard and her body stiffens. “Tristan. Oh God,” she moans as her orgasm takes her.
In her post-orgasmic weakness I roll her over. Now she is underneath me and I start to move in and out slowly, allowing the tight muscles from her release to relax and fade away to my slow assault.
She moans and I move faster, desperate to get her off one more time so that I can join her in her release. She doesn’t disappoint me, and when I am near explosion she begins to arch her back and all her muscles tighten. “God, I love you,” I breathe as my orgasm takes me — and her — beyond the moon.
TWENTY-SIX
******
Cami
******
Have Tristan and I really been having too much sex? Is that even possible? The tenderness I feel in my breasts and even down below tells me that yes, I really can have too much sex. But the moment anything starts between us, all tenderness is gone and replaced by my overwhelming need for him.
It is after noon when we finally emerge, showered and ready for the adventures of today. It is his birthday, and I want to give him two of his presents. The last one will have to wait until tonight.
We’re in the sitting room and this morning, before I started my torture, I came out here to set up the first two, and he sees them sitting on the coffee table in the sitting room. “I told you not to get me anything.” He laughs.
“Yeah, we know how well I listen. Open them.”
He smiles and hops onto the couch, almost like a kid at Christmas. It is sweet to see. Despite all of his ‘No birthday party or presents’ arguments, I can tell this really does mean something to him and I’m happy to see it. He goes for the big one, which is fine. I like the idea of him being excited for the bigger and better.
He tears into the paper to find a long tube, and I suddenly start panicking, not sure how this is going to go over, but I can’t help but be excited about it too.
He gives me a quizzical look, but I encourage him to open it and he does.
Inside the tube is a thick stack of papers. Well, they are large pieces of paper rolled up. He pulls the papers free of the tube and looks at me, trying hard to figure out what it is. I smile, and he unrolls the papers, moving the other present and laying them down on the coffee table.
Clipped to the top page is a cream-colored piece of paper. He leans forward to look at it closer.
Across the top, in fancy script, it says, Deed.
“Cameron Celeste Enders, what have you done?” he says, but I can tell he’s not mad.
“Turn the first page,” I say and smile.
He looks back to the documents, reaches for the first large page, and turns it over.
“Oh my God,” he breathes.
I look over the piece of paper, and drawn out in black and white is a large drawing of the front of a large, two-story colonial. There is a rounded rotunda for an entrance, with pillars from the ground to second floor. The house has several peaks in the roof, and it is very much a beautiful house.
“What have you done?” he asks, almost sounding angry. I look at him, shocked, but he’s not angry.
“Do you like it?” I ask, hesitant of his answer.
“It looks gorgeous.”
“Keep looking.” I encourage him to turn the page.
The next page is an overhead layout of the interior design. From the rotunda entrance, to the left is a library, and straight ahead is a stairway that leads to the second floor. Running next to the stairs is a hallway that leads to the master suite, the two-story living room, the dining room, the kitchen and a family room. The house wraps around to the right, where it extends into a three-car garage. Across the back of the house is large deck area, suitable for sitting space, along with a built-in grill and bar. Beyond the plans is a pool.
“Jesus, Cami. Before I go any further, what is this all about?”
“Nope, keep looking.” He gives me a look of You can’t be serious; I need an explanation here. But I shake my head and make a show of zipping my lips.
He turns the page; it is the second story.
Upstairs there is a railing opening to the two-story living room, along with three additional bathrooms, storage and walk-in closets. If you follow the plans to where the garage is on the first floor, it says, Studio.
His eyes look from the plans to me and back again. I knew this was going to capt
ure his attention, so I tell him, “Turn the page.”
He does exactly that, and it is all laid out. I watch as he reads the descriptions of the layout and then looks to the computer-drawn images of what the studio will look like. He looks up to me again.
“I remember you once told me that acting wasn’t necessarily your passion. Producing and directing, however, are another story.” I can’t help the tears that creep into my eyes as I take in his awed expression. “So, for your birthday, I am not only giving you your own studio, but I am giving us a house. Built from the ground up. In Los Angeles.” He abandons the plans in front of him and he crawls over to me on his knees. I can’t quite tell what he’s thinking, and I’m a little scared.
“What about the condo?”
I shake my head. “Nothing has changed with the condo. I will keep it because I would really like to still live in Phoenix. But I understand that your career, as well as mine, is really in California, and we will need to be there a lot more than we are now. So rather than live out of hotels while we’re there, I thought that a place that is ours—” I put emphasis on ours. “—is what we needed.”
“Cami, I don’t even know what to say.” His eyes are filled with fear, and it worries me.
“Do you not like it? They’re just plans, we can change it.”
“Stop right there. I absolutely love it.” He kisses me. “I love it just as I love you. It’s just a lot to take in.”
“I know. But the condo is mine. Designed for me, not for us, and while I absolutely love having you there, I feel as though you don’t feel at home sometimes and I wanted to give you a place that really was your home.”
“Cami, I feel at home wherever you are, whether it is in the middle of Montana, or in your condo in Phoenix, or even here in Tarah.” The fear in his eyes is replaced by the look of love that I’ve come to adore about him. A look that is just for me.
“There’s more. To the house.”
“I don’t care.” He smiles.
I giggle a little bit. “But really, it’s kind of cool. Please look.”
He kisses me then pulls back, but he takes my hand, bringing me with him, and we both kneel over the coffee table. He turns the page. The next page is the entire layout of the property. He uses his finger to go from the house to the deck to where the pool is. Then, surrounding the pool and some distance away, at least enough to give us some privacy, are three smaller houses.
He looks at me.
“The designs aren’t done because it is up to them how they want them to look. They’re our best friends’. Travis and Mick are handling their own builds, paying for their own houses to be built. Tyson and I have worked out an arrangement.”
“No, I will pay for Tyson’s house. It is the least I can do for all he’s done for me.”
I smile and kiss him. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”
“The entire lot is about sixty acres and is on the outskirts of L.A. I needed an escape from the city, but...turn the page.”
He turns the page and he quickly realizes what he’s looking at. “Cameron Celeste, are you kidding me?”
I laugh. “No. I love the ocean and the beach too much.”
He kisses me again. The front side of the house faces west, and about fifty yards away is a beach and the ocean. “I know this is a gift, Cams, but how much is this going to cost?” I knew that was coming — I’m not dumb — but I’m not sure if he is going to like my answer.
“The property or the build?” I stall.
“Let’s start with the property. Sixty acres of oceanfront property in California is — wow, Cams, that’s huge.”
“Well, it is technically two lots. The lot that our house is on, ending about here—” I point on the map to the middle of the pool. “—is the only ‘ocean front’ part of the property. That property set me back—” I pause and scrunch up my nose. I don’t want to tell him. “—about eighteen million.”
“Jesus. And the other lot?”
“Six.”
“Million?” I nod. “And the build?”
“That depends. Estimates right now — for the build only, no equipment or furniture or anything — stand at about fourteen.” I flinch, hoping that he doesn’t freak out on me, considering that the price tag, right now, stands at forty million.
I can see the shock on his face. “You cannot afford this.”
I stand. Money is not something that Tristan and I have talked about and I’m not sure he truly understands my wealth. But I guess now is the time to really explain it to him.
“Tristan, take a seat.” He looks at me. “Up on the couch.” I grab a cigarette off of the mantel across from him and light it. I take a deep drag and hold it, just for a second, composing myself. “We’ve never talked about this, mainly because, as far as you’re concerned, I don’t feel it is my business to know your financial situation. But I do know that if you can afford Magic Mick to do your financials you’re not poor, and even if you were, it wouldn’t matter to me.” I look at him, hoping to get the message to him that I love him for him, not for his career and certainly not for his money. I think he understands, so I continue. “When Bobby died, for the lack of a shorter explanation, I was left with what I thought was half of his net worth. At least now I know it was probably only about a third, given his current living situation. Anyway—” I take another drag; I’m getting off track. “—the money I’ve spent so far, and will spend to build this house, does not even begin to eat up the money I inherited from him. It barely makes a dent, and I am more or less using interest that I’ve earned on that money to build this house.” I look at him and his eyes widen a bit.
“How much are you talking about?”
“Are you sure you want the answer to that question?” His hesitant nod says more than his words do. “Two hundred million dollars.”
“Jesus,” he blurts.
“Mick has invested the majority of it, and the money I spent on my condo in Phoenix and that I spend on a daily basis comes primarily from my trust money, which is far more than I ever needed in a lifetime to begin with. Couple that with my own shares in Bold, complements of Bobby’s disappearing act, and I make on average about fifty grand an hour and I do nothing to earn it. So to answer your question, yes, without a doubt I can afford this house, and a whole lot more.”
He doesn’t say anything for some time, and I do not blame him for that at all. I finish my cigarette and light another one. He is watching me, wondering what I’m thinking, no doubt, and right now, I am concerned that I’ve freaked him out.
I let him sit there until I’m done with my second cigarette and then I can take the silence no more. “Say something,” I blurt.
He doesn’t say anything for a few more seconds, and they feel like hours. “I had no idea.”
“You had no idea because flaunting my money is not something I do, Tristan. It is what it is, and there is nothing I can do about it. Short of give it all away to charity or something like that. But it is a part of who I am, and it will always be such.” I watch him carefully.
“Well your money has nothing to do with why I love you, if that’s something you’re concerned about.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s more that I’m concerned that I’ve freaked you out. That you—that...I don’t know.”
“That I feel inadequate?”
“That’s a good word for it.”
“No, I don’t feel inadequate about your wealth, though my own wealth is like pocket change, compared to yours. And it washes away all the worries I had in regards to the bar.”
“You were worried I couldn’t afford the bar? Is that why you haven’t been that excited about it?” I ask, and he nods. “Well, I’ve already made that amount of money plus, just from Bold, since I told you about it. So no, the bar is not at all a loss in my book. While I’d love to hand my friends money left and right, I don’t believe that they would like it very much, and the subject of money always comes between friends and I don’t like it. B
eau knows, of course, because of Mick. Jolene has an idea and I’m sure Naomi does too. Look, it’s not a big deal, and more than anything it doesn’t drive who I am. Sure, I like nice clothes and expensive shoes. I carry expensive purses and I indulge when it comes to things like spending some time in Tarah with you. But at the end of the day, Tristan, I am still me, and I’ve worked very hard to keep that because I don’t want to throw my money around and I don’t want people to take advantage of me or my generosity.”
He leans forward on the couch, putting his elbows on his knees, and I can tell that he’s lost in thought. He doesn’t stay that way for long. “The amount of money you have doesn’t change a thing about how I feel about you.” He looks up at me standing on the other side of the table, and my heart grows a little bigger for him in that moment and I realize that I love him even more than I thought was ever going to be possible.
TWENTY-SEVEN
******
Tristan
******
“You have another present to open,” she tells me, and it brings me out of my haze after learning what I’ve just learned about Cami. I had no idea she had that much money. I knew she was wealthy, that much was obvious, but not that wealthy.
“I haven’t finished looking at the plans yet,” I say and smirk at her.
“They’re kind of boring, really. Just overall layout designs of the kitchen and the patio, which includes a built-in grill and bar.” She smiles at me. “We can look at them later. Or discuss them with the designer.”
“Who might that be?” I ask her with an all-knowing grin on my face.
“Take a wild guess.” She laughs.
“Beau.”
“Who else? She’s bloody brilliant at what she does.” And just like that her British accent rings true to form. It’s been a while since I’ve heard it...or I’ve just really gotten used to it.
“That she is.” I grab for the smaller package. “This isn’t keys to some sports car, is it?”