Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 96513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
One digit slipped in just barely as I came hard and then back out.
“Next time,” he told me and stood.
I lay back, my eyes finally opening and my chest rising and falling with my pants. He smiled like a Cheshire cat, clearly loving the effect he had on me.
“Camden,” I purred.
“Yes?”
“Fuck me.”
He smiled then, eyeing my body, primed for the taking. “I think… I’ll make you wait.”
“What?” I gasped, coming up to my elbows.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Are you not satisfied with what I provided?”
“I… I am,” I stammered out. “But don’t you want…”
“Don’t presume to know what I want,” he commanded.
I slumped back on the bed. My legs were still spread. I was still dripping wet. I was an offering on a platter. Everything he could want. He strained against his suit pants. He did want me.
But he wanted the control more. It was clear in his dark eyes. He wanted to make me beg before he gave me what we both wanted. And I wouldn’t beg.
And he knew that. He was patient. He could wait.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he said, striding out of the room. “You can imagine me fucking you while I get off.”
I groaned at his words and wondered why the fuck I couldn’t swallow my pride. He’d made me come by barely touching me. I would find a way to get him inside of me without begging. He couldn’t hold out forever.
14
Katherine
The next couple of days, I ignored the questioning looks from my friends and the desire that flared between Camden and me. I tried to ignore it all and enjoy myself. Not that it was easy, sleeping next to Camden and not fucking him. When all I wanted to do, now that he had denied me, was fuck him.
I was glad when Lark suggested a spa day without the boys. It was harder to pretend that nothing was happening between us when Camden was around. We weren’t arguing and there was a new heat between us. One that everyone seemed to be stepping around.
No Camden for a day would be for the better.
Lark had gotten us all the full-day executive treatment—massages, facials, salt scrubs, body wraps, mani-pedis, plus use of the sauna and salt pools. With a famous Cortes chocolate martini in hand, I stepped into the salt pool for our first thirty-minute relaxation period.
“This drink is out of this world,” Whitley said.
“It’s like if a Frosty had a baby with an alcoholic Frozen Hot Chocolate,” English said, taking another sip of the delicious concoction.
“What’s a Frosty?” I asked.
All three girls turned and stared at me.
“What?” I asked, wide-eyed.
“God, you were sheltered as a child,” Whitley said with a laugh.
“I started drinking wine at, like, eight,” I told her.
“Fine. Maybe sheltered is the wrong word.”
“Wendy’s just not proper enough for you?” English asked, stifling a smile. “Only Serendipity will do?”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t eat fast food.”
“Are you eating anything at all?” Whitley quipped. “Look at how fucking skinny you are.”
Lark frowned. “You do look very trim.”
“You look amazing,” English said. “What are you doing? Tell us your secret. I wouldn’t mind losing another five pounds.”
“Shut up,” Lark said, swatting at her. “You do not need to lose weight. None of you do. You’re all perfect exactly as you are.”
“Okay, Mom,” Whitley said with an eye roll. “If everyone thought they were perfect exactly how they were, I wouldn’t have a job.”
We all laughed. It was a fair point, coming from a plastic surgeon.
“So, apparently I don’t need to lose five pounds,” English said, rolling her eyes at Lark, “what are you doing?”
Katherine shrugged. “I got a new personal trainer. He works with dancers from the New York City Ballet. He’s all about building lean and toned muscle and keeping dancers fit for their grueling jobs.”
“And you need that… why?” Lark asked. Her eyes bored into me, asking so much more than the question conveyed.
“Hey, don’t knock it,” English said. “It’s clearly working.”
“Anyway, it’s not that I need it. But you know, my face and my body are part of my public persona. I’m a socialite by trade. It’s no different than a model trying to stay in shape. I’m not eighteen anymore, and I’m competing with those skinny twits.”
“I’m glad you’re not eighteen anymore,” Lark said pointedly.
I frowned and looked away from her.
“God, aren’t we all glad not to be eighteen anymore?” Whitley said. “I was not doing this kind of shit at eighteen.”
“No shit,” English said with a laugh. “I was blowing up-and-coming rockstars and working as a bartender in the Valley.”
“Speak for yourself,” I said. “Lark and I were doing precisely this at eighteen.”
“Depends on when. We didn’t leave Manhattan the summer after graduation,” she said through clenched teeth.
Before I could respond, two women appeared at the edge of the pool.