Camille’s shirt joined his on the floor a moment later, and her bra followed. He watched her nipples tighten, and licked his lips. Soon, he promised himself. Fuck, he wanted to taste her.
Hands on his shoulders drew him down into another kiss. Mark braced himself on his forearms as he leaned down over her, and felt her skin against his own. His hips rolled, rubbing his length against the curve of her mound through the remaining layers of their clothing. She gasped and arched up into him.
“Come on,” he said when they broke apart again, hands on her hips, pushing her farther up onto the bed.
She gave him a slow smile. Her lips, still perfectly red despite the hungry kisses they’d been trading back and forth and the time her mouth had spent on his cock, curled into a wicked curve. Mark swore under his breath and reached down for his already unbuckled belt, grateful he didn’t have to take the time to mess with it when every second seemed to stretch out into an eternity of wanting. Fuck, he wanted her. He shucked the belt off to the side with the rest of the things they’d tossed on the floor, and scrambled out of his pants so that he was only in the black briefs he’d been wearing underneath.
On the bed, Camille rolled onto her hands and knees, arching her back and throwing a come-hither look over her shoulder at him. Mark didn’t hesitate to follow the implied order there. It was his turn to do a little teasing, and he grinned at her as he settled into place, slow and dangerous.
The garter belt momentarily confounded his plans.
“I’m gonna be honest with you,” he said, running his hands up her legs from knee to the bare curve of her backside. “I don’t know how to undo these.”
She laughed, but her body arched into his touch, her legs sliding open wider. “Then don’t,” she said, low and hot.
“Don’t?” Mark traced two fingers over her panties, the fabric already damp. She shuddered and moaned. “What do you want me to do then? Tell me.”
His fingers traced the same curve again, with more pressure this time, and when they brushed over her clit through the fabric she bucked against his hand with a groan that made his cock jump against his own underwear.
“Just pull the underwear down. Just—Fuck.”
The words broke off into panting, her hips rolling into the fingers that kept stroking her.
“Just take them down. Please, Mark.”
He curled his fingers around the waistband of the thong and yanked it as far down her thighs as it would go. She dropped to her elbows, and he slid his fingers over newly-bare skin, growling low in his throat when he felt how wet she was already. His fingertips found her clit and rubbed over it, slow and firm. Camille whimpered.
“How much do you want it?”
“So much. Come on, Mark. Fuck me.”
“Well, I’d hate to disappoint.”
Mark reached around her to pull a condom out of the drawer in the nightstand, and made quick work of his own underwear and rolling it on. His hands curled around her hips and dragged her back closer while she moaned.
“Ready?” he breathed, leaning down so that his chest pressed to her back, his cock sliding between her thighs to rub against the curve of her sex.
“Yes. So ready.” She rocked her hips, red-painted nails clawing at the bedclothes.
The slide-in was tight, her legs trapped by the underwear around her thighs. Mark took it slow, torturing them both with the sensation of pressing in inch by inch. She tried to rock back, to take it deeper, but he held her hips still, made her wait for it until she was swearing at him through breathless moans and little gasps.
He drew back, and then his hands on her hips pulled her onto his length as he pressed deep inside her, hard and fast this time. She muffled a cry against the blankets and arched up into him.
One hand reached up and stroked over her stomach to her breasts, cupping the weight of one so that he could rub a fingertip over her nipple in slow circles, feeling it tighten under the touch. Camille’s hips hitched.
“Sensitive, baby?”
“Yeah,” she panted. “Yeah. Please.”
He kept rubbing, stroking. Then he drew his hand back and caught a nipple between thumb and first finger, rolling them over the peaked little bud, tugging just enough to make her gasp and sob her pleasure into the sheets. When she was writhing helplessly against him he switched sides, teasing her other nipple with the same slow circles and then the tug of his fingers. His mouth moved over the arch of her neck, the line of her shoulders.
Mark’s hand slid down then, back over her belly, and he slid his fingers between her thighs to rub at her clit, dipping them lower to get them wet before he began stroking them over the sensitive little bundle of nerve endings. He could feel the catch in her breath, the way her body tightened as she drew closer to the edge. “Going to come for me?”
“Yes.” The word was ragged, trembling on the edge.
“Come for me, then. I want it.”
She sobbed his name into the blankets, shuddering around him as she fell over the edge of pleasure into orgasm. Mark could have followed her, could have let the coil of need at the base of his spine explode outward, but he held himself back, working her through her climax with gradually slowing strokes of his fingers over her clit.