WHAT SHE WANTED

Olivia Foxe

Dev wasn’t a pussy, he just wanted to fuck one.

He repeated the thought to himself while his knees shook with the urge to buckle for Camille. His cop’s uniform felt rough on his skin as the breeze from the hot afternoon brushed his face.

Standing on the balcony of his apartment, he crossed his arms, aware of the bulge of his biceps and the way Camille’s eyes latched on to them, then moved down his body in appreciation. His cock twitched in his pants. Beads of sweat rolled down his spine.

Dev wanted to claim Camille like he’d done to the other women he took to his bed, but that wasn’t what she wanted.

“Well, Dev?”

Her voice dragged over his senses, rough like a cat’s tongue.

They’d been playing this game for weeks, her asking, him not saying no. At least he’d been playing, hoping she’d change her mind. But she hadn’t. Her gaze licked over him again and she leaned back against the railing, then turned to look over her shoulder to the street below. The afternoon light and shadow played perfectly over the lines of her face, the mahogany skin, her long and delicate neck.

When he first saw her, he imagined her riding him, her pussy clenched around his cock while his hand tightened around that seductive neck of hers, her gasps toward orgasm dragging his up from the base of his spine. But it never happened that way.

“It’s getting late,” she murmured.

He’d invited her over after work with the promise that she’d get what she wanted. But now his pride rebelled.

“You don’t have to go,” he said.

Camille straightened. She was tall, taller than any woman he’d ever dated—or fucked—but still only managed to match his height in the high heels she always wore.

“Why should I stay?”

His lust was a hot brand in his belly, firming his cock even though it should have made him limp to think of the things she wanted. But he only grew harder when her gaze dropped to his crotch. Not now. But his dick wasn’t listening.

“You’re very…impressive.” Her voice hummed with approval. “Nothing you say will change how much of a man you are.” She paused. “How capable and strong.”

Her words soothed something in him. Something he hadn’t known needed gentling. He’d had a long day at work. Some asshole tried to blow himself up and used a fake connection to terrorists in the Middle East as an excuse. Everyone on his team had been on edge, and after that shit show, the word came about a cop brutalizing a Black kid in a nearby suburb. His fellow cops weren’t perfect, but he wished the bad ones would just disappear so the rest could do their jobs in peace. He wanted to release all of that.

“Tell me,” Camille said.

A sigh leaked out of him, and he thought she didn’t hear it. But her eyes latched on to his.

“Hm. Maybe you’re right. I shouldn’t leave yet.”

After another pointed look, she walked past him, brushing the sleeve of his uniform with her bare shoulder. Her stilettos rang against the tile floor.

She headed for his bedroom, her leather purse in hand.

Camille had never been in his room before, but she easily made herself comfortable. Flung the windows open, refilled the glass of water Dev kept on the table. She even turned down the bed, leaving the dark expanse of sheets an ocean of invitation for her body, and his.

Camille slipped off her high heels. And although she was abruptly shorter than him for the first time since they’d met, she suddenly seemed more powerful.

“You’re tense,” she said. Her hands landed on his biceps and his muscles trembled. “Come.”

Camille tipped her head toward the bed, an order, and Dev couldn’t find it in himself to resist.

He stripped and climbed into the bed.

“May I?” Camille asked.

The “Yes” spilled out of him. He knelt in the bed.

“Good.”

She reached for her purse, pulled out something red. Rope. It spilled from her hands, slithering onto the sheets. Camille stroked his cheek.

“Tell me about your day,” she said.

Then, as he talked, the words apparently waiting to fall from his tongue, she tied him up.

The rope felt like silk and her touch both soothed and aroused him, stroking the already-there desire until his cock was aching. Any resistance drained from him with each knot, each stroke of her fingers. The rope bound his wrists behind his back and to his ankles, the silk brilliantly red over his muscled thighs. At the end of it, he felt…secure.

“Dev.” He lifted his head but it was an effort. “How do you feel?”

He licked his lips. “Good. Fine.” He actually felt better than fine, the tension from work gone, leaving only the heat of his arousal, his dick thick and dripping.

Camille brushed her thumb against his mouth at the same time as he licked his lips again. She caught her breath when his tongue wet her finger. Her nipples hardened under the thin blouse and the smell of her wet pussy changed the scent of the room. Dev’s mouth watered.

“What would you like?”

Dev confessed what he wanted most in that moment. “I want to taste you.”

The corner of her mouth curved up. Then she stood on the bed and pulled her skirt up, revealing plump pussy lips and slick arousal dripping down her thighs. Surprise and desire slammed into Dev.

“Ask and you shall receive.”

With one foot balanced on the headboard, she put her pussy to his mouth. Gratitude rushed through him, and he opened his mouth wide to devour her like a starving man uncertain of when his next meal would come again.

Camille’s clit was firm under his tongue, her sounds of pleasure falling into his ears, washing over his body, pooling low in his belly. Her hand tightened in his hair, a familiar pain he welcomed. The lust gripped him harder. Her pussy moved against his mouth in a desperate rhythm.

“You’re so good for me.” She groaned and bucked against him, her nails pressing the back of his neck, holding him firm as she chased her pleasure. His name fell from her lips, then she shuddered, whispering how good he was. How strong. How perfect. How—!

The orgasm burst over him, a sudden and overwhelming tide.

Dimly, he felt the splash of warmth on his belly, his chest, heard his own groans while he came, untouched except for the rake of her nails down his neck, her pussy dragging over his mouth, the silken ropes on his flesh.

“Gorgeous,” Camille murmured.

Then she untied him. A pillow appeared under his head and her sighing breath gusted over his lips, a kiss hovering a touch away. Leaning over him, she was like his own guiding star.

“Good?” Her breath brushed his lips.

He closed his eyes and his body surrendered into the sheets, relaxed and thankful. “Very.”

Her mouth touched his, and the sensation of it, light and firm at the same time, followed him down into sleep.