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Brock
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In his nine-year history of being a university professor, Brock had never taught a class on autopilot.
Until tonight.
As he pulled the car into the driveway, he couldn’t even recall what exactly he’d lectured on, or how well the students had received his lecture. That had never happened before. Brock took his career seriously, and he prided himself on being a good and well-liked teacher among the faculty at Grexton.
But tonight, something was more urgent. More dire and consuming.
And that something was Camilla Benton.
He’d asked her to stay on a whim, thinking she would turn him down in an instant. Despite their age difference, someone had to be the responsible one. It wasn’t him, or he would have been able to refrain from asking her to stay in the first place, but it obviously wasn’t going to be her, either.
Camilla wanted him. There was no way to hide the yearning that shrouded her eyes. He recognized it because he was sure he was wearing the same blatant need on his own face. He wanted her, too. With the heated desire of a thousand red-hot suns.
And his three-hour lecture had been governed by that desire, his need pulsing through him and growing with each minute that passed without her near him. Without her against him. Under him.
By the time he pressed the code into the front door of his house and stepped inside, all Brock’s self-control had been swept away by the incessant throbbing of his hardness and the boiling of the blood in his veins. His resolve hung by a thread.
So, when Camilla came around the corner, eyes wide and fearful, there was nothing he could do but pull her to him in a frenzied hurry, desperate to feel her slender body against his in any way he could get it.
His mouth crashed down on hers as he pushed her up against the wall beside the doorway and pressed his entire body against her, fueled by the realization of just how perfectly she fit against him. He tasted her mouth hungrily, his tongue exploring every warm, wet inch of hers, tasting the sweetness that was all Camilla. She moaned against him, the decadent sound reverberating against his lips, only enticing him to continue, to take what he needed.
“Rynn...” He breathed out his daughter’s name in a husky pant. “Tell me she’s asleep.”
“Yes.” Camilla’s own breath came out labored, in a rush. “For hours.”
Relief washed over him as he pressed his forehead to hers, letting his tongue flick out to touch her bottom lip. The action, and the whimper it elicited from her throat, only made his rigid cock ache more brutally. “Stay with me.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” she asked, but whether or not she realized it, Camilla was nodding while she spoke. Her fingertips had pulled the back of his dress shirt up, tracing sensual circles against his lower back.
Her body was betraying her even if her mind was holding on to some semblance of control.
“I frankly don’t give a damn, Camilla.” His eyes burned into hers. “I won’t be gentle with you—I can’t. I want you so goddamn bad I can barely think straight.”
Brock wasn’t sure he got the words out in full, wasn’t sure who kissed who. But suddenly their mouths were colliding again, and this time Camilla’s tongue tangled with his in a delicious dance that made every nerve ending within him spark with electricity. His hands were in her hair, his chest and abdomen and pelvis crushed against hers, overcome by the unquenchable need to be closer to her, to be inside her.
His pulse pounded in his ears. Mixed with the moans and whimpers coming from Camilla, the sounds that surrounded him were driving him crazy, tugging at that last shred of control that held him back from dominating her in every dark and decadent way he could fathom.
Then, he felt her grind forward, pressing that soft, sweet spot at the apex of her thighs against his hardness in blissful agony, and everything inside Brock snapped.
A low growl escaped his throat as he reached behind her, cupping her ass and lifting her. No demand was needed for Camilla to wrap her legs around him and let him take her wherever he wanted.
She was his. His to do with what he wanted. What he craved.
Their kiss continued the entire way to the bedroom, and it took every ounce of strength Brock had not to slam the bedroom door shut and rip her clothes from her body like an animal. But he couldn’t take a chance at waking Rynn, and he shifted Camilla to one arm as he slowly closed the door, listening for the click as he locked it behind him.
It was the only gentle thing he did. After that, there was nothing left to hold him back from devouring the woman before him like the sexy woman she was. He wanted to taste every inch of her, feel every inch of her creamy skin.
“Fuck, Cam—”
“Shh,” she whispered. “Show me.”
Whatever resolve he had left dissipated in a cloud of smoke. In a tangle of limbs and frenzied kisses and touches, their clothes were peeled away, her fumbling with the buttons of his shirt and the buckle of his belt, him tugging at the hem of her shirt and the fly of her jeans. Layer by layer, skin was bared, areas that he kissed and licked because he had to, because he needed to feel the warmth of her flesh and the heat of her skin against his.
Camilla grazed her fingernails down his hard, chiseled chest, dragging a moan from his lips and a flinch of his muscles. Everything was so clenched, so constricted and tight and aching.
He let out a gruff sound of approval at the sight of her mauve lace bra and panties, pushing her back onto the plush comforter of his bed so he could take in the full view, from her long legs to the visible beat of her pulse at her throat as her head tilted back and she relished in the sensation of his tongue sliding up the inside of her thigh.
The way she writhed beneath his touch, giving herself over to him completely and unabashedly...it unleashed something within him. It was more than just sex. More than two people coming together to quench the need their bodies had conjured up and couldn’t relinquish. The connection he’d found with Camilla—the one he felt the moment he opened the door a few days ago and first laid eyes on her—was more than physical. It went beyond that, deeper, sending his body into overdrive, yes, but also consuming his mind, too, keeping thoughts of her at the forefront of his mind at all times. Even the most inopportune ones.
But it led him there. To that room, where the darkness that surrounded them was only marred by the glow of the pale moon shining through his bedroom window, letting him take in her creamy bare flesh and the molten desire in her eyes. Letting him know she felt the same way.
She watched him intently, her chest heaving with each breath as Brock peeled away her panties and crawled his way up her body to lift her and unclasp her bra.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” His eyes skimmed every inch of her naked body as he pulled the clothes away from her and tossed them to the floor. At the edge of the bed, he freed himself of his boxer briefs and stood before her, doing everything in his power to calm himself, to remind himself that he should take it slow, be gentle and enjoy the moment.
The bigger part of him, though, the part that ached and throbbed with the need to show her just how many ways there were to be his, was in control. He was sure that streak of dominance was alight in his gaze.
“Camilla...” Brock wasn’t sure what he was going to say. A warning? An apology?
“It’s okay, Brock.” She silenced him with those two words, and she ruined every chance she had at a gentle lovemaking when she coyly opened her thighs, inviting him in.
Their mouths suddenly crashed together again, and he had no recollection of kneeling back down onto the bed. He was on her, like a wild animal with his prey caught between his hands, and the thick head of his erection pressed firmly against her warm folds. He grinded against her, all too aware of the wetness there, too aware of the hardness of her nipples against his chest and the desperate breaths that she gasped each time he rocked his hips against her.
“Please...” she pleaded with him. “Oh God, please.”
Listening to her beg...that almost made him come undone. One of his hands came between them and he guided his rigid length more firmly against her entrance. A hard thrust had him inside her to the hilt, and they both gasped against each others’ mouth, overcome by the sensations that coursed through their bodies.
Inside her like that, Brock let his instincts take over. He succumbed to his need to be the one to drive her into euphoric bliss, and his hips began to move, kissing her hard and passionately while his hardness filled her so perfectly that he was sure his body was custom-made for hers alone.
Every slam of his hips against hers was a feverish stroke meant to make her succumb to his power over her. He was determined to make her shatter beneath him. His lips pressed against hers, devouring her whimpers and incessant moans, her breath coming out in shallow pants each time his cock was driven back into her to the hilt.
Camilla’s hips bucked to meet his, and a wave of dark satisfaction rolled through Brock knowing she was so willing to take everything he gave her. It fuelled his increased pace, and he drove every inch of his shaft into her relentlessly.
Her whimpers were lost amidst their kiss, and he refused to let up. Camilla’s hands rounded his lower back and crept to his ass, squeezing his cheeks and forcing him down onto her harder, faster.
This time, he was the one fighting back a fucking whimper. The beautiful woman wanted more. The intoxicating sensation of pleasure and pain as he thrust into her with hard, forceful strokes wasn’t enough.
Maybe it would never be enough.
His furious rhythm became a frenzy of long, deliberate strokes, bucking his hips to meet hers and slam her back into the mattress.
Camilla whispered, “Oh God...oh God, yes...” in labored breaths, writhing beneath Brock and digging her fingernails into his shoulder blades, a sting that only stoked the fire that was fueling his relentless thrusts.
“You’re mine, Camilla,” he grunted out, his gaze blazing with the truth of his words. “You’re mine.” He could feel the tightening of her core around his thick hardness, squeezing him and violently coaxing him closer to the edge of his release.
“I am.” No hesitation on her part. Nothing but submission and desire to be exactly that.
Her confession broke the last shred of his resolve, and his release raged through him, hard and fast. A low, guttural growl escaped his lips as he slammed into her tight channel unabashedly, desperate to deliver those last few thrusts that would send her careening over the cliff with him.
The sharp gasp that tumbled from her lips announced Camilla’s orgasm, and Brock had just enough wherewithal to clamp his large hand over her mouth before she screamed out his name and let her release crash through her body like a tidal wave. The tightening and clenching of her muscles, mixed with the throbbing and twitching of his erection, collided and then ebbed together, reducing them both to a series of sporadic shudders and tangled limbs.
“That was incredible,” Camilla sighed once her breathing started to even out. “You’re incredible.”
A playful smirk played on Brock’s mouth. “And you’re mine.”
She grinned at him lazily. “So, you did hear that confession, huh?”
“Oh, I heard it.” He leaned over and kissed her mouth, just hard enough to steal the breath away that she thought she’d regained. “And I’m going to hold you to it.”