Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 74882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
He doesn’t need words right now.
He needs this.
I wake to the morning Florida sun blinding me. Camilo is no longer in bed. With a yawn, I slide out from under the covers and take a moment to check out his room. It’s empty save for a bed and a dresser. No television. No decorations. No pictures. It feels cold to me and my heart aches a little for him. I’m not sure what I expected from his place, but it wasn’t this. I assumed his living space in the States would be just as vibrant as he is, like his villa in Mexico.
He’s never home.
But I’m never home and I still made my place livable. It’s a sanctuary when I am home.
Shaking away the melancholy feelings, I pad out of his room and into the living room. I can smell coffee and follow my nose over to it. He’s left a mug out for me, which makes me smile. After making a cup, I go on a hunt for him. I find him outside on his balcony, staring out at the side of another building. The place is nice with huge, full palm trees and a pretty courtyard below.
“Morning,” I say, settling beside him in the other chair.
“Yep.”
I sip my coffee and stare at him. He looks like hell. His dark hair is messy and sticking up. Dark circles ring his eyes. He’s still wearing yesterday’s clothes and they’re rumpled. I want to crawl into his lap and ask him if he’s okay, but I get a weird vibe coming from him. One that says he’s in a delicate mood and one wrong move will send him shattering.
“Are you hungry? I could make you something to eat,” I say softly.
“I don’t have anything. Never home. Fridge is empty.” He delivers his words with cold emptiness that makes me shiver despite the warm weather.
“I could pick something up,” I offer.
“Nah. Too much trouble.”
“Maybe we could get dressed and go eat—”
“I’m not hungry, Sheridan,” he snaps. “I can’t fucking eat. In case you forgot, my dad died. I need to deal with that shit first.”
I bite my tongue, holding back fiery words of my own. He most certainly needs to eat and I’ll get some food into him. It’s going to be hard dealing with his attitude, though. While I get why he’s being a dick, it doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.
“Right,” I say, sliding into business mode. “I’m going to get showered so we can take care of the funeral arrangements.”
I abandon my coffee and walk back into his condo. After locating my clothes and toiletries, I start the shower, undress, and hop in. I’m furiously scrubbing my hair when the shower door opens and Camilo steps inside behind me. My body warms several degrees as his nakedness presses against mine. He’s hard and his erection pokes against me.
“Camilo…”
He doesn’t answer. His palms slide to my breasts that are slick from the shampoo I haven’t rinsed from my hair that is sliding down them. He pinches my nipples, making me gasp, and then pulls on them almost painfully. My breathing grows heavier the more he abuses my nipples with his fingers. They’ll be sore later. Apparently I like a little pain because I’m practically squirming with need. One of his hands leaves my breast and slides down the curve of my ass. His fingers explore until he finds my pussy from behind. Easily, his finger enters my wet body. I groan when he adds a second one.
“Camilo,” I whine when he fingerfucks me almost too roughly.
“Want me to stop?”
God no.
I shake my head and he continues his probing. He’s softened his touch and I already miss the way he seemed to fuck his fingers into me in an angry way. I’m distracted from his fingers inside me when he twists my nipple. It’s strange how my body reacts in such a needy way. I’m growing closer to orgasm when he pulls his fingers out without warning. I whimper until he presses the head of his dick against my slick opening. He grabs my hip and thrusts hard. My hands slap against the tile wall to keep from falling. Camilo crowds me, pressing my front against the chilly tiles. He fucks me hard as I cling to the wall, holding on for dear life. I know he’s upset about his dad and needs this release.
“Fuck,” he hisses. “Fuck.”
Heat floods up inside me. I haven’t climaxed yet. Normally, I’d tell him to get me off too, but things are weird right now. With his softening dick still inside me, he slips his fingers to my pussy. I moan as he easily brings me to orgasm. My body clenches around his and I can feel him already hardening back up. He moves his hips, stretching me with his growing length. I’m dizzied from the steam and still shaking from my orgasm, in no way ready to take him again.