by Belle Aurora
I watched every floor tick by as my thoughts drifted to Maya. Why hadn’t she called? Was she okay? Had something happened? I shook my head, pushing the thoughts away.
Camilla. I was here for Camilla. I needed to get my head right.
Looking down at my key, I made my way to room 701, took a deep breath, and then slipped the plastic card into the slot. The light turned green. I opened the door gently as I could, and entered the room.
Darkness greeted me. It was a good thing I had been in these rooms so many times before, or navigating around the furniture would be hell. The curtains were drawn tight. Not a speck of light was showing, even though the sun hadn’t fully set.
I slowly walked over to the foot of the bed where Camilla lie feigning sleep. As I moved, I lifted my hand to work on the buttons of my white shirt. It fell to the floor with a whoosh. I slipped off my shoes and socks, leaving me only in my black slacks, then put my knee to the bed.
The mattress squeaked lightly and I heard Camilla take in a breath. Had she touched herself before I arrived? Was she dripping for me?
I studied my part well. Leisurely, I climbed over her with my knees by her thighs. My eyes had adjusted to the dark. I could make out the outline of her body, her curves, and her breasts. I lifted my hand to run my fingers down the side of her throat. That was Camilla’s cue.
She gasped loudly. “Who’s there?”
I smiled. She really did love playing a part. I couldn’t blame her. It was freeing to not have to think about your next move.
Sobering quickly, I drawled, “I’ll be whoever you want me to be, baby.” Then I ran my finger over the lace of her bra and the curve of her breast then into the valley between them.
I heard her swallow hard. She croaked, “Who are you? I don’t know you. Get out or I’ll call the police!”
My laugh sounded cruel, harsh. “No, you won’t, Camilla. You like the feel of me, of my body. Feel me.” I ground my hard length into the soft skin of her bare thigh. “Feel how hard I am for you.” I separated from my script then, only for a moment. I reached for her hand, gripped her wrist, and brought her palm to my material-covered, throbbing cock. I wrapped her hand around my hard length then placed my hand around hers, forcing her to gently jerk me. My voice went hoarse. “You want this, Camilla. I know you do.”
As per script, she didn’t respond, but her breathing turned heavy. I uttered softly, “It’s okay, baby. It’s all right. I’m not here to judge you. I just want to make you feel good.” Leaning down, I kissed the exposed side of her neck then whispered against it, “Let me make you happy.”
With a soft groan, Camilla’s stiff body slumped, her arms out by her sides. I had just been given full access.
Camilla was tall for a woman, but still short against me. She had an athletic body because of the marathons she liked to compete in, and had little in the breast department, but her ass was enough to hold onto. I gave her what she needed to feel feminine. I knew this, because she always wore sexy underwear, even when she wasn’t seeing me. I knew this, because she told me so.
I liked that she had that, that she had something she liked about herself. Women could be so critical on themselves. They could be their own worst enemy when it came to body image.
What women didn’t realize was that most men weren’t worried about a little extra weight, or cellulite, or even stretch marks. At least, for me it wasn’t an issue. We liked you in bed, as long as you were enjoying yourself. A horny woman was always a turn on.
My tongue darted out as I licked the side of her neck, silently thankful that she hadn’t put on any perfume. I gently sucked, careful not to leave marks, then nipped the skin there. With my chest pressed to hers, I felt her nipples go taut against me.
My hands found hers and slowly, I raised them above her head, holding them down firmly. But we both knew the truth; she could easily escape if she wanted to.
Camilla didn’t want to.
My lips found hers and I was pleasantly surprised at the sweet, minty taste of her mouth. I hated the taste of wine and, quite frequently, had to work past it. I kissed her deeper and she sighed into me.
A kiss was nothing but clinical to me. I felt it, but I didn’t really feel it at all. To me, it was the equivalent of somebody touching my arm. I could feel it, and it felt pleasant, but that was all. That was where it ended. I was desensitized.
Camilla seemed to enjoy my body weight on her, so I left it there, slowly grinding my hips into hers. With one hand, I worked on my button and zipper then worked my pants down my legs. I kissed Camilla harder, pushing her hands down in warning as I lowered my own to remove her panties. Then, in one swift move, I rolled us. We had switched places.
Camilla was wet already. Sopping wet. As I lay back on the bed with my hands on her hips, she ground her bare pussy into my thigh. My cock jerked. I could smell her. My mouth watered.
Would I ever get sick of sex? No. I didn’t think so. I loved it too much.
My hands slid up her hips to hold her just under the arms, then I pulled. She landed on top of me and my hand tangled in her hair, pulling her mouth to mine in a searing kiss. She moaned lightly and I felt pre-cum bead at the tip of my burning cock.
I wanted to fuck her, but this wasn’t about me. It was about Camilla. My arms went around her as I sat up, taking her with me. I pulled back, and with a rough tug at her bra, her breasts were free. I lowered my face and took a small nipple into my mouth. It was my turn to groan.
Fuck, but I loved tits.
Camilla gasped for breath above me. Her hands went to my head and her fingers ran through my hair before grasping tightly. When I nibbled at her taut bud, her grip tightened as she panted. The harder she tightened her grip, the harder I nibbled.
She was well and truly ready, my thigh covered in her juices. And I wanted nothing more than to eat her pussy till she came on my face.
I loved it when they came in my mouth. It was dirty, and hot, and uncivilized. And I fucking dug it.
I lay back down, holding Camilla by the waist, keeping her in a sitting position. Gripping her tightly, I lifted and pulled forward. She moaned out an unsteady, “Oh, Jesus,” as my lips came into contact with hers, and not the ones on her mouth.
My tongue dipped in, tasting her musk. She tasted spicy and sweet. I dipped in for another taste. Then it came to me. She tasted like cinnamon. I liked cinnamon.
With her knees at the sides of my face, I ran my hands down them as I delved deeper. I kissed her, and sucked her, and licked her. I swirled my tongue inside of her, up and down, then sucked on her hard little button. She screamed brokenly and her thighs tightened around my head, holding me in place as she began grinding herself into my mouth. I wished I could reach my cock. I wished I could grip it hard and jerk it harshly. I wanted to come so bad that I almost forgot what I was doing.
Camilla worked herself into me as I ate her. She loved this as much as I did. My hands reached back and found her soft, tight ass. I dug my fingers in, squeezing hard. I pulled back to growl, “God, you’re so fucking sweet. I could eat your pussy all day long, baby.”
I couldn’t begin to tell you how many women I have said that exact line to in the past four years. I couldn’t tell you, because it was almost every time. And that was a lot of occasions. Well into the thousands. They were just words, but the women liked them.
My lips sealed over her sweet spot and I sucked hard. Camilla whined softly then louder and louder. Her legs tightened around my head harder and harder, till she let out a hoarse yell. I licked at her entrance and felt it pulse against my tongue.
Oh, yeah. That was the shit right there.
Before she could recover from her orgasm, I reached under the pillow and pulled out the condom Camilla let Candy know would be there, ripped it open with my teeth, and then pushed her back on the bed as I sheathed myself. She collapsed, completely slumped. I smirked at her limp body, knowing this was exactly what she needed.
With my throbbing cock in h
and, I stepped off the bed and stood at the side of it. In one quick movement, I hooked an arm under Camilla’s belly and pulled her back to the edge of the bed I stood at. I arranged her as I wanted her; she didn’t need to do a thing.
I placed her knees at the edge of the bed and helped her to rest on her hands. I liked doggy and knew she liked it too. True, I wasn’t exactly sticking to the script, but I was sure if Camilla didn’t like this she would tell me.
My hand came down on her ass cheek and the slap echoed throughout the room. Crack! Left then right. Over and over till her body squirmed. I grasped my cock then ran it through her nectar, lubing so this would be as pleasurable for me as it was for her.
I pressed my groin to hers, leaning over her to run my hand up her back and press gently between her shoulders. She understood and lowered her face to the bed, her ass in the air.
The head of my cock slipped inside of her and she gasped, “Oh, God.”
She was a religious little thing. But God wasn’t going to help her today. I teased her, lightly moving the tip in and out, sliding fully out of her and rubbing my engorged head against her puffy lips.
I gave myself a mental pep talk. Don’t forget…this is about her. This is about her. This is about her.
God, I was a horny toad.
Slowly, I drove my length inside of her without pause, needing her to feel every single inch as it penetrated. She panted breathlessly and I felt her pain, the need to go at it rough and hard. Bottom to groin, she was fully impaled on me, and it felt great.
A rough rumble came out of me. “You ready, baby?”
Her response came in the form of her ass pushing back against me as she moaned long and low.
Pulling out almost completely, I thrust back inside of her warm pussy. Her moans drove me. With every needy keen, I thrust harder, then faster. Before long, I held her hips as I powered into her. I was ready to blow, my movements becoming irregular and jerky. Then Camilla’s back bowed and her body went rigid. She did this soundlessly, but after a few more seconds of pounding into her, I felt her clamp around me erratically.
That was all I needed. The light turned green and I sped off to the homestretch. Placing an arm under her belly, I pressed my chest into her back, restricting her movement and thrusting into her wet core hard and deep.
It didn’t take long before I felt the telltale tingles at my lower back. My vision went black as I thrust deeper and deeper before finally, colored spots danced behind my eyelids a moment before my body went stiff. I held my breath and gritted my teeth as my cock jerked inside of Camilla, filling the condom with come.
I held Camilla in my arms a good thirty seconds before I could move again. I slipped out of her and gently lay her on the bed, covering her with a sheet. She sighed dreamily, and I knew she would be asleep by the time I came out of the bathroom.
That was one of the reasons I liked Camilla. There was never an awkward goodbye. She fell asleep and I left. Till next time.
Making my way to the bathroom, I cleaned myself up and dressed, then quietly made my way to the door. I listened to the soft snoring of Camilla as I made my exit. I left my key on the table by the TV and closed the door behind me.
I stood in the hall, rubbing the back of my neck. I was officially fatigued, drained, and yet, I wanted to know if Maya was awake. I wanted to hear her voice before I went to sleep.
The first thing I did when I pulled into my building was turn on my cellphone. I didn’t even think before I called.
She sounded groggy, as if I had just woken her. “Quinn?”
Shit. I hadn’t checked the time before I dialed. I pulled my phone away from my ear and saw the time.
1:32 a.m. Yeah. Shit is right.
“Hey, sorry I woke you. I just wanted to check on you, see if you were okay.”
She sounded confused and adorably sleepy. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
I wouldn’t scowl. I wouldn’t. “You didn’t call.”
I heard ruffling in the background as I imagined she sat up. “I know. I sent you a text.”
Then I did scowl. “No, you didn’t.”
She argued right back. “Uh, yes, I did.”
“Didn’t.”
“Did!”
I fought a sigh. This was going nowhere fast. “Would I be calling to make sure you were okay if you had sent me a text?”
She paused. “Hold on a second.” She pressed buttons on her cell and I pulled it away from my ear as it beeped again and again. She muttered, “Shit,” then came back sounding apologetic. “You’re right. I did write out the message, but it’s still sitting in my drafts. I must’ve never hit send. Sorry, Cap’.”
I smiled at one of my many nicknames. “It’s all right. I really just wanted to make sure something hadn’t happened to you.”
Her voice came across pleased. “You didn’t need to do that.”
My response was immediate. “I wanted to.”
She swallowed hard then replied softly, “I’m okay.” Then she paused a moment before whispering, “Goodnight, Quinn.”
My heart skipped a beat, and it shocked me. “Sweet dreams, babe.”
She hung up and, looking down at my phone, I thought about the husky sweetness of her voice. I’d bet my life she had a soft pink blush on her cheeks.
It took me five minutes of thinking to realize I had been standing outside my front door, in the hall the entire time.
Chapter Sixteen
Mia
After Quinn called, it took over an hour for me to find sleep again. I couldn’t stop thinking about the rough lilt of his voice. Past memories assaulted me.
Coming home for Christmas had been a mistake. I did this every year, and every damn year, I regretted it.
Losing weight hadn’t been easy, but in the past year, I had lost nineteen pounds. Sure, it didn’t look like I had lost much, or even anything, but I felt better about myself and was proud of my willpower.
I didn’t drink. I didn’t smoke. I didn’t do drugs. But I ate. And having a food addiction was so much more severe than any other addiction, I thought, because food was available anywhere and everywhere. Years back, I would spend nights going to the gym then leaving just to be tempted by burger joints on the way home. There I would be, in my gym clothes, eating a burger in a dark part of the parking lot, feeling ashamed.
It was harder to say no than yes. I was weak when it came to my eats.
So when my mother looked at me with that disapproving frown and accused, “Have you lost weight?” I cracked. Would it have killed her to tell me that she was happy I was finally doing something about my weight? Yes, apparently, because every spare moment, she would shove something edible under my nose, and after a short argument, I would give in.
I’d bet I would go back to college at least six pounds heavier and a shitload sadder.
I never understood my mother or why she fought so hard when it came to my wanting to lose weight. The only thing I could think of was that she thought my personality would change along with my weight. I’d heard her make the same accusation about her sister, my aunt Penny.
Every year, a member of our block would host a Christmas party. This year was Mom’s turn. We ate Christmas lunch at midday then got to work making trays and trays of appetizers, dips, and desserts. Of course, I ate while I worked, which pleased Mom immensely and left me feeling ill. Around six p.m., members of the community started showing up. I went upstairs to change, only to find that the dress I had bought before I came home, nineteen pounds thinner, no longer fit.
I shouldn’t have been surprised by this. I had eaten almost every hour over the past three days and the dress had been tight when I bought it. Talk about discouragement. I almost threw a fit, but instead, I pulled up my big girl panties and dressed in black pants and a blouse. I was underdressed and felt ugly, but it was my own fault.
I stood in a corner most of the night. Harry disappeared after lunch to do a shift at the bar, and all the normal people my age were
out with friends and loved ones. I was the only person under forty at this shindig, and it blew.
Mom had placed me on waitress duty, as if I wasn’t embarrassed enough, so I spent the majority of the night taking trays of finger-food, walking them around for a minute, and then hiding in the corner with the tray, eating all the contents of said tray till I felt sick.
Ten-thirty rolled around and I was sure Mom wouldn’t notice my absence, so I fled upstairs. If Mom had an issue with that, she could suck an egg. I was done.
I got out of my clothes and into my Snoopy pajamas, tied my hair into a high ponytail, and sat on my bed, reading. Mom had placed a red rope across the stairs, so no one would be coming up, and I felt it safe to leave my door open.
I should’ve closed it. Then locked it. Then placed a chair against it and sat in that chair.
Being engrossed in my book had nothing on the tall, stumbling man who gripped my doorframe to keep from falling over. He held on tightly with one hand, his body swaying from side-to-side as he groaned and ran a hand down his face. Wide-eyed, I held the book to my chest and heaved in anxious breaths. Then he saw me.
His hair looked freshly cut, was dark brown and styled in that way hairdressers do when they’ve completed your new ‘do. I couldn’t see his eyes from where I was, but I knew they were too light to be brown. His tall body was lean but muscular, and the sleeves of the black shirt he wore over his dark jeans had been pushed up to the elbows, his top button undone. He leaned forward, squinting hard, looking right at me and teetering.
“Minnie, right?”
He knows me?
There was only one person who called me Minnie. My brother. By process of elimination, I quickly realized who this person was. I blushed and nodded slowly.
He smiled crookedly, and it was shocked me at how my stomach fluttered. “I’m Matt Quinn, Harry’s friend.” Before I could say anything, he stepped a foot into my room and sat. “Mind if I sit?” He stretched his legs out in front of him, giving me a close-up view of just how tall he was.