Mollie

I’m the picture of cool, calm, and collected as I saunter away from Camden Hess. As if I didn’t just break up with my fake boyfriend and lose my job in the same weekend. As if the sight of this cocky, tattooed bad boy didn’t set my insides on fire despite those things. He’s gorgeous. And intimidating. And, I can only assume, a player. He’s everything I don’t need in a boyfriend, but he’s exactly what I need tonight.

My parents roped me into coming up for a family trip before summer is over. Of course, Tucker was supposed to come with me. But when I got the news that the magazine I’ve been working for since before I graduated college was no longer going to publish a print edition—therefore, leaving me jobless—I came home lost and upset, not to mention recovering from a gnarly bout of strep throat. Imagine my surprise when I found Tucker cozied up to another woman on our couch. His assistant, no less. How cliché, right? It didn’t matter that we weren’t really together. We hadn’t ever talked about hooking up with people and how that fits in with our…unique situation. He wasn’t straightforward with me. Needless to say, he was no longer invited.

Telling my parents that we “broke up” would open the door to questions I don’t want to answer, so I spilled my guts to my friend, Sutton, who lives in River’s Edge. We met when we were kids on the bunny slope and stayed in touch ever since. We planned to get day drunk and find some gorgeous locals to get my mind off real life. Turns out, Rum Runners and boating don’t mesh well with Sutton, so she’s laid up at home. I hung around until she kicked me out and then went back to our cabin until my parents and brothers started with their barrage of questions. I’m twenty-two. I don’t have to explain myself. But, I don’t feel like rehashing the ugly details just yet.

If I’m being honest, I’m embarrassed—about losing my job and Tucker—even though I know neither one was my fault. They’re not a reflection of me. Our relationship wasn’t really a relationship so much as an understanding between two people. I wasn’t in love with Tuck, so it’s not like I’m heartbroken. Not in that way, anyway. He was more like my best friend than a boyfriend, so the betrayal still stung. It almost made it worse, somehow.

When Tucker first confessed his feelings for me, I didn’t know how I felt, but I didn’t think it was the way he wanted. We gave dating a try. We were best friends and spent all of our time together, anyway, so what did I have to lose? Our friendship, that’s what. I figured out pretty quickly that it wasn’t what I wanted. It wasn’t fair to Tuck, either, to be with someone who, in the words of Cher Horowitz, “wasn’t majorly, totally, butt-crazy in love with him”.

Problem was, Tucker’s dad took our relationship as a sign of maturity and told him that if he kept moving in the right direction, he’d give Tuck more responsibility at Hastings Architecture, and eventually, he’d think about making him partner. Tucker has always been wild, if not a little rebellious, but design and construction is one of the few things he does take seriously. So, I told him we should keep up the charade for a while at least.

And it worked. Tucker has clients of his own now, and he couldn’t be happier. Eventually, I think we both just became too comfortable. Dependent, even. We slept together, but it wasn’t anything more than scratching an itch. I didn’t have the time or desire to date anyone, and something tells me that Tuck was hoping I’d catch some feelings of the romantic variety, so we kept it up longer than necessary.

So, while I still feel cheated on and betrayed by my not-boyfriend, I also feel strangely…relieved. And for the first time in forever, I wanted to hook up with someone. Someone who just wanted a night of fun followed by an ass slap and a good game afterward. Someone who made me feel good for just an hour. And I found the perfect candidate. It should have been a no-brainer. Except, somewhere between the cabin and the bar, the self-doubt snuck in. I got into my own head and started second-guessing my skills as an art director. My skills in the bedroom. Pretty much everything. I blame the quiet. Silence always turns into fears and overthinking for me. The fact that I chose that moment to check my texts from Tucker didn’t help matters. He said he was sorry, that he loved me, and begged me to call him. I didn’t.

By the time I walked inside, I wanted to drink away my sorrows instead of finding a sexy stranger to spend the night with. It’s too bad, because Cam looked like he knew his way around a woman’s body. He was arrogant, but weirdly charming, and truthfully, I wouldn’t mind being another notch in his bedpost.

I make my way out into the fresh air as I push open the heavy door. It slams behind me, shutting the music and chaos inside. It’s cooler than I anticipated, given the fact that it’s August. I visit River’s Edge a couple of times a year, at least, but it’s usually during winter. I haven’t been during the summer since I was a kid. My flip-flops crunch against the dirt and pine needles as I head toward the water that lies mere feet from the bar. I nearly trip over a pinecone the size of my head. What are these things, bionic? They’re huge. I don’t get more than three steps before the door swings open behind me.

“You said I had to let you leave, but, you didn’t say anything about not following you.”

I spin around and pin him with an impassive stare as I walk backwards.

“I can be tricky, too,” he says, wiggling his brows. I shake my head and turn back for the water. I sit down, the rough sand cold against my thighs. I slip my flip-flops off and bury my toes in the wet sand. I’m surprised when Camden lowers himself to sit next to me. He’s fully clothed in a white V-neck and black jeans, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He props his elbows on his knees and stares out at the lake, unspeaking. I use the opportunity to take him in. His dirty blond hair underneath his backward hat, the tattoos on his arms and the ones that cover his throat. The light stubble on his jaw. He looks vaguely familiar, but I know I don’t know him. I’d never forget meeting someone like him.

“Are you just going to stare at me all night? It’s kind of creepy,” Camden says, interrupting my perusal.

“You’re the one who followed me and sat down next to me without an invitation. If anyone’s winning the creepy contest, it’s you.” The corner of his lip lifts in an almost-smile.

“Touché.”

“Why did you, anyway?”

“What, follow you?”

I nod.

“I’m a sore loser, I guess.” He shrugs, and I burst out laughing. Well, at least he’s honest.

“She laughs,” he says, flashing his perfect teeth in a Cheshire grin. “Does that earn me a kiss?”

“You’re not going to quit, are you?”

“Quitting isn’t in my vocabulary.”

“Somehow, I don’t think a guy like you is only interested in a kiss,” I deadpan.

“Would you rather fuck instead?” he asks with a straight face, and I realize that he is dead serious. My mouth clamps shut, and I feel my face heat. He has zero filter. I doubt there’s a single thought he’s had that hasn’t been spoken aloud.

Camden chuckles at my reaction and leans close to my ear.

“Does that word make you nervous?” he rasps, his lips brushing the shell of my ear over my hair. “Because I want to fuck you, Mollie Mabey.”

My core clenches at his dirty, blunt words, and he tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. Our eyes lock, and it’s not humor in his eyes that I see, but heat. My arms tingle with goose bumps and I shiver, but it’s not from the cold.

I shouldn’t do this. I don’t even know this guy. Even though my initial plan was to have a one-night stand, I figured I’d at least spend more than ten minutes with the guy. But I want this. God, do I want it. And I’m going to take it. I’m going to take everything this gorgeous, egotistical stranger can give me in spades.

I catch Camden off guard when I swing a leg over his and straddle his lap. His hands immediately find my ass, and I feel his hardness between my thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, and when I lean in, that’s all the permission he needs.

One of his tattooed hands fists my hair, and the other presses against my lower back. My hands cup both sides of his scruffy face as our mouths crash together. No longer playful, but hungry. Frantic. Desperate. His tongue tastes like oranges, and I moan when it slides against mine. The hand on my back slides under my dress and up my back, coming to rest between my shoulder blades.

Maybe it’s the fact that it feels wrong to be like this with a man I don’t know that’s turning me on, or maybe it’s just him, but I’ve never felt so much from a kiss before. I’m completely consumed, and I feel like I’m burning from the inside out. The hand on my upper back snakes around my side and comes to rest flat on my ribs, and his thumb grazes the underside of my breast. Everything inside of me ignites at his touch, and I pull back from his kiss on a gasp.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice thick and gravelly.

“Do whatever you want with me,” I whisper. And I want him to. I want more of this feeling, and I’ll chase it until the very last drop. His thumb brushes my nipple, and I shudder. Cam groans and circles it some more, applying more pressure this time, causing me to arch into his touch. Shoving my dress up to expose my braless chest, he cups both of my breasts before leaning in to suck a nipple into his mouth. I grind into his lap, uncaring of the fact that all that separates us from a crowded bar is a few sparse trees.

“You want more?” Cam asks.

“I want everything.”

“Then, we need to go to my place,” he says, reluctantly letting my dress fall back into place. “As much as I want you to sit on my dick—right here and now—beach sex is overrated. You don’t want sand where the sun don’t shine. Besides,” he says, curving one hand over my ass, not stopping until he’s sliding his fingers over my panty-covered crotch, “if we do this, it’s not going to be quick. You’re going to let me take my time with you.”

His words do little to break through my lust-induced trance. Here I am ready to give it up to a guy I met five minutes ago, right out here in the open, and now he’s asking to take me home. I know I should stop and think about this. To, I don’t know, take a picture of his license and send it to Sutton or something. But, tonight isn’t about making rational decisions. Tonight, I’m going to throw caution to the wind, because nothing about Camden Hess screams safe.

His eyebrows pull together, creating a crease between them as his icy blues search my browns, waiting for my answer. His fingers squeeze the tops of my thighs, as if he’s trying to keep them from straying, and I say the word that could quite possibly result in the best sex of my life.

“Okay.”

* * *

After scooping me up and throwing me over one shoulder, Cam prowled straight to his house—which happened to be right around the corner from The Edge—without another word. His entire demeanor changed after I agreed to go with him. He went from fun, witty stranger to scary, sexy stranger, and I was both terrified and intrigued. He strode through his house, and hanging upside down, I could only make out a brown leather couch before we were in his room. The door was slammed shut, and then I was slammed against it. I dropped my wristlet to the floor and wrapped my legs around his waist as he sucked and kissed and licked at my skin.

Now, we’re both panting, desperate for more, and he swings around, walking us to his bed. He drops me into a pile of gray and black bedding before bracing himself above me, his hands planted on the bed on either side of my head. I spread my legs, welcoming him between them, and I smooth my hands up his back, dragging his T-shirt along the way. He pulls back to rip it off, and then he’s right back where he was.

“Do you have a condom?” I have one in my abandoned wristlet over by the door, but I’m betting a guy like him comes equipped with an entire arsenal of them. He smirks at me, and I get the feeling that I’ve said something stupid. Isn’t that how these things go? Some quick kissing and fumbling around in the dark before getting down to business? He’s already surpassed my expectations.

“We’re nowhere near that part yet. I told you, I’m going to take my time doing whatever the fuck I want, and you’re going to let me, aren’t you?”

I don’t let people tell me what to do. I’m not a doormat. But in this bed, with this man, I’m more than happy to comply.

Taking my silence as confirmation, he slides down my body, bunching my dress up as he goes. He hooks a finger into the sides of my black panties and drags them down my legs, before tossing them behind him. The nerves hit me, being exposed like this, and I clamp my knees together. It’s not that I’m a virgin—far from it—but I’ve only been with Tuck in the past year. It feels foreign to be with another man, let alone one that does more to my body with a single look than anyone I’ve ever been with before.

“No,” he says simply, but firmly, lifting his head to look me in the eye. His pale blue eyes seem to glow, even in the dark. “Spread your legs for me, Mollie.”

I do, slowly, but his eyes stay trained on mine. He parts me with one finger, sliding through my wetness, and I suck in a breath at the sensation. He circles my clit a few times before plunging that finger inside me. Finally, he breaks eye contact to watch his finger slipping in and out of me.

“Look at you. So pink and wet and tight.”

His words cause me to clench against him once more, and his teeth dig into his lip as he slides down to get a closer look.

“Lift your knees,” he orders, and I comply, completely mindless with pleasure. “Now hold your legs up with your hands,” he instructs. “Good girl. Just like that.”

My legs are spread obscenely wide. This angle has him reaching a spot that has me panting and causes a moan to slip free. His unoccupied hand glides up my stomach and rests in the center of my heaving chest.

“You’re beautiful, Mollie Mabey.”

My eyes are closed and my head back—unable to focus on anything but the sensations coursing through my body—when I feel Cam’s hot breath between my legs half a second before his tongue is there. He doesn’t clumsily poke around, nor does he attack me with sloppy, overeager kisses. No. Cam is slow. Intentional. He knows exactly what he’s doing. He drags the flat of his tongue through my slit, applying more pressure once he gets to my clit, and then repeats the process again. He adds another finger into the mix, and this slow torture is almost more than I can take. I squeeze my legs together, rocking against his face as his firm strokes turn into sucking.

Just when I think I’m going to explode, he pulls his fingers from me and rips my legs apart. Wet, tattooed fingers grip the insides of my thighs and hold me open for him. My hands fly to his Jax Teller-esque hair and he growls into me. Cam moves his hands, and before I know what’s happening, he’s pushing my legs backwards and sliding his tongue even further south, to where no one else has ever been.

I jerk away at the sensation. It’s not that it doesn’t feel good—because holy Jesus, it does—but the fact that I’m completely caught off guard, if not a little embarrassed to have his tongue there. Cam doesn’t allow for shame or discomfort, though, because in response, he flips me onto my side, so my knees are almost touching and angles his head underneath me to devour me that way. I bury my face in the pillow, balling his gray sheets in my fist as I forget inhibitions and take everything he’s willing to give me.

A thick finger is shoved inside me as his tongue continues its assault on my other hole.

“Oh, fuuuck,” I whine, low and keening.

He moves his mouth back to my clit, and then he’s slowly inserting another finger, but this time, he slides it into my ass. I freeze, locking up as he works his way in, little by little. It’s wet enough not to hurt, but it still takes a minute to adjust to the burning fullness.

“Relax,” Cam soothes before nipping at the bundle of nerves. Slowly, the discomfort turns to pleasure—full-blown fucking pleasure—and my legs go slack. It’s all I can do to lie there as he works my body better than I knew possible. He pumps harder, the knuckles of his other fingers pounding into me, bruising the sensitive flesh, but it feels too good to care.

I’m writhing against him and his scruff scratches against my delicate skin, but I welcome the discomfort. I feel that familiar tightening that tells me I’m close. His choreographed movements don’t miss a beat. Tongue, teeth, and fingers all work together to send me over the edge, leaving me a shaking and shuttering mess beneath him.

Cam crawls up my body before brushing sweaty hair from my cheek once I start to come back down to earth. Sleepy, sexed-up eyes meet his for a beat, and then he stands, dropping his pants. Even his muscular legs are full of ink. He’s fucking magnificent. He saunters over to the open bathroom connected to his room, his glorious ass on display without an ounce of shyness, and looks at me in the mirror as he washes his hands.

“Now, we’re ready for a condom,” he says with a cocky smirk.

It’s going to be a fun night.

* * *

Cam

Good golly, Miss Mollie. She’s turning out to be more fun than I anticipated. I pegged her as a missionary-only kind of girl who wouldn’t let my tongue anywhere besides her mouth. I’ve never been happier to have been wrong.

Now I see it—that curiosity, that dark side hidden beneath the surface. She’s innocent, that much is clear, but she isn’t a prude. She’s untapped talent. A goddamn needle in a haystack. And tonight, I just happened to be the lucky bastard who found it.

I walk back to my bed, condom in hand, making a mental game plan of where I want to start. I didn’t get near enough time with those puffy nipples that are just barely a shade darker than her olive skin, but I can’t get enough of that pussy. I lick my lips as I climb into bed next to her, about to dip back between those creamy thighs, but she surprises me again by straddling my lap.

Mollie snatches the condom out of my hand and I twirl a lock of her long, brown hair around my finger as she carefully rips the top open with her teeth. She looks at me from beneath dark lashes, and suddenly, I feel like the one who’s being seduced here.

Just to get the upper hand, I tweak her nipple with my thumb and forefinger, and she gives a little yelp. I lean forward to lick away the sting at the same time she reaches between us and starts to roll the condom down my length.

Fuck, her hand feels good on my dick. She works me up and down for a minute before planting her hands on my shoulders and sinking down onto me.

“Goddamn,” I groan at the same time she whimpers, feeling her tight heat swallow me whole. I fight the urge to thrust upward and grip her hips instead while she adjusts to my size. She finds her rhythm soon, and her confidence follows. Mollie rises on her knees, until just the tip is inside her, and then she slams herself back down. I want to close my eyes to think of something else—anything else—to keep from blowing my load, but willingly missing out on this fine ass female learning and exploring and grinding on me, using me for her pleasure, is a sin punishable by death.

Mollie tangles her fingers in my sweaty hair as she moves her hips faster. Her eyes are shut, mouth parted, and I’ve never seen anything hotter in my life. I find myself wishing for half a second that she were local, so we could make this a weekly ritual. Daily, even. Hourly.

Mollie circles her hips and I palm her ass cheeks, keeping her pressed close. Her breathing is ragged, her movements jerky, like she’s about to come again, and that’s when I take over. I practically throw her off me, and when she squeals, I push on her shoulder blades to get my point across. She takes the hint and presses her chest into my sheets and lifts her ass in the air.

“Fuck me, you’re perfect,” I rasp, lining myself up with her entrance before sliding into her. I smooth my palms up and down her back as I start to move inside her. Mollie shudders, and I know she’s enjoying this just as much as I am.

“Rub your pussy,” I instruct, and she obeys instantly.

“Oh God,” she moans, pressing her face into the sheets. I feel her fingers move from her clit to where we’re connected, and she spreads them apart, sliding on either side of my cock.

“Fuck yeah. Keep doing that.”

Timid fingers creep back even further to cup my balls, gently rolling them in her hand, and that’s when I snap. I curl my body over hers, nipping and biting her spine as I rut into her like a fucking animal. Mollie arches her ass against me, taking my punishing thrusts. Pulling back, I watch myself disappearing inside her, her pink heat hugging my cock, unwilling to let go. Her asshole is on display, and I suck on my thumb before bringing it to that little hole, pressing and rubbing, but not penetrating. Half of her face is smashed into the bed, and she gasps as she presses backwards onto my thumb, spreading her legs even wider.

“You like it when I play with your ass?” I ask, my voice ragged.

“Yes,” she breathes, and this time, there’s not a trace of self-consciousness. It’s pure, unadulterated lust that drives us both in this moment. The all-consuming kind of sexual chemistry that doesn’t come along every day.

“Do you want more?”

“Please,” she begs, looking back at me over her shoulder with desperate eyes and puffy lips. That word coming from that mouth is my undoing. I press my thumb inside the tight ring and reach around to rub her clit with the other hand. I’m about to blow, and I’m going to make sure she’s coming with me.

Mollie screams and clenches around me, and I can only assume her limbs gave out from the way she collapses to the bed. I fuck her through her orgasm, gripping her curvy hip with one hand while my thumb continues to work her hole. I feel the familiar tingle in my balls a second before I start to come, long and hard.

Before I’m even finished, my bedroom door opens, and an inebriated Cordell stumbles into my room. Mollie is oblivious, eyes closed, still catching her breath, so I try to discreetly wave him away with a look that says I will fucking kill you in your sleep if you don’t walk away right now. But he doesn’t see my warning, because his eyes are fixed on Mollie’s ass.

“Get the fuck out!” I bark, and both of them jump at the sound of my voice. Mollie yelps and lunges for the blanket, but it’s still stuck underneath us. I cover her body with mine, trying to preserve some modicum of modesty. Cord looks at me like he doesn’t even recognize me. He’s watched me with girls before. He’s probably wondering what makes tonight any different.

“I heard screaming,” he says lamely, with an annoying smirk plastered to his mug.

“We’re fine. Leave. Now.”

Cord shrugs a shoulder before turning to leave.

“Fuck, sorry about that,” I say. I press a kiss to her nipple before lifting myself off her to take care of the condom. Except, when I look down, there is no condom. The fuck? I dig around in the sheet, thinking it must have slipped off after I pulled out, but it’s nowhere to be found.

“What is it?” Mollie asks, her eyebrows tugged together in concern.

“I can’t find the condom.”

“What? What do you mean you can’t find it?” she asks, her voice rising in pitch.

“Relax, it’s here somewhere.”

I turn on the lamp next to my bed, and we both scour the sheets, the floor, under the bed…and it’s just gone. There’s only one place left to check.

“Mollie,” I say, and her head snaps up from the side of the bed.

“What? Did you find it?”

“No, but I think I know where it is. Don’t freak out,” I warn.

“Where?” she asks skeptically and stands, her naked body on display.

“Inside you.”

“Nope.” She shakes her head. “No. Nuh-uh. There’s no way.”

I pin her with a blank stare, waiting for her to come to the same realization. It has to be.

“Don’t you think I’d feel it if it was?”

“Lie down. Let me check.”

She hesitates before lying on her back, bent knees clamped shut. I lie on my stomach in front of them and gently pull her knees apart.

“I was just up close and personal with your pussy, baby. Relax, it’s no big deal.”

“This date just went from one-night stand to OB-GYN appointment,” she mutters, covering her eyes with the back of her hand.

I chuckle, as my palms skate along the insides of her thighs, pushing them open. I spread her lips with my thumbs, but I can’t see anything. She squirms when I hook two fingers inside her, and a little moan slips free. I feel my dick getting hard again already, and my hips automatically grind into the mattress on their own accord.

I’m just about to see how she feels about round two when I touch rubber. I fish it out and hold it up between two fingers.

“All right, Miss Mabey. The procedure went well. I didn’t run into any complications. You may expect some mild discomfort, but it’s nothing that some Tylenol won’t fix. Come back in a week and I’ll examine you again. You know, just to make sure we got everything.”

Mollie giggles, and I dispose of the condom.

“Are you…okay?” I ask, not knowing how to broach the subject of what just happened.

“What do you mean?” she asks, perplexed.

“I mean, are you on birth control, or do I need to run and get you some Plan B?”

“Oh,” she says, shifting uncomfortably. “I’m on the pill. And I’m clean, obviously,” she tacks on at the end.

“Me, too,” I assure her.

“Can you grab my dress?” she asks, after an awkward beat of silence.

“Why?”

“Soooo, I can leave?” It comes out as a question.

“You’re leaving?”

“I mean, I just figured…” she trails off.

“You just figured, what? That our time is up? Because we still have about,” I check the alarm clock on my nightstand, “seven more hours until the sun comes up.” And there’s a lot I can do to her in seven whole hours.

“Seven hours, huh?” she asks, blush creeping up her neck.

“And lucky for you, only about seven more minutes until I can go again.”

“Hmm,” she says thoughtfully, tapping a finger against her chin. “Hooking up with a stranger once is totally acceptable. But twice? I think we at least need to know some basic facts about each other.”

“Is that so?” I ask, raising a brow.

“It’s a rule,” she insists.

“Well, you’ve got seven minutes to get to know me,” I say, lying down next to her with my hands crossed behind my head.

“What do you do?” she asks.

“I snowboard.”

“No, like, for a living,” she clarifies.

“I snowboard. Professionally.”

“Oh,” she says, sounding shocked. She scans my room, as if looking for clues. She won’t find anything but a few of my sponsors’ stickers, unless she opens my closet.

“Why were you upset earlier?” I ask. “Boyfriend issues? Daddy issues?”

Mollie huffs out a humorless laugh. “Sort of. I guess you could say I just got out of a complicated relationship right before I came here.”

“Ah, so I’m the rebound,” I guess. Mollie shrugs and gives me an apologetic smile.

“Maybe?”

“I hate it when beautiful women use my body to get over their boyfriends. You should be ashamed of yourself,” I say, reaching over to grab her by the waist and pulling her on top of me. My cock nestles between her wet pussy lips, and she slides back and forth on top of me.

“So ashamed,” Mollie says, feigning innocence.

“Is it working?” I ask, flexing my hips upward. “Are you over him yet?”

“Almost,” she breathes, as my hands reach up to palm her perky tits.

“I guess we’ll just have to try again,” I say, and then she angles her hips just right to take me inside her.

“Just one more time.”