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Authors: Vanessa Fewings

BOOK: Cameron's Control
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“Good girl, Mia.”

She lapped around the head, her delicate hands cupping my balls, her feverish mouth tracing along the underside of the base before sucking in her cheeks and drawing me all the way into the back of her throat. Her eyelids closed in ecstasy.

She let out the longest moan of contentment, that vibration of sound encompassing my erection as the sensation burst outward, alighting every nerve, every cell, and I went with it, letting go, willing her to do whatever she wanted.

Playing with locks of her hair, my eyelids grew heavy. My need to be inside her consumed every thought.

I pulled her up, positioned her above me, and pushed into her, all the way, thoughts stolen by the madness of this moment and the need to fill her.

Holding Mia against me I was undone, gripping her against my chest and raising my hips off the bed to pound her, delighting in the sound of our sex slapping against each other—

We fell over into the abyss together, her rhythmic clenches insistently demanding, and me lost in this sea of pleasure, stilling, absorbing it all, all this intensity, all of her.

I was consumed by this ecstasy tearing through me.

This was what it was to love without barriers.

Bliss.

She collapsed on top of me and we fell back onto the bed, both drifting off like that, with me still inside her.

We stirred in the late afternoon.

Possessively I’d bathed her in the shower, kneeling before her to kiss between her thighs, suckling her there until she’d shuddered against me and screamed my name.

Again.

No matter how many times I took her, it wasn’t enough.

I’d dried her off with a soft towel and she let me pamper her.

Beautifully post fucked and naked and newly bathed, she’d lain spread out on the bed, lush golden locks curling around her as she watched me dress.

I chose my usual casual wear of Roberto Cavalli jeans and navy blue shirt and black jacket and dragged a comb through my hair, and then dabbed a splash of Clive Christian cologne on my neck.

I dressed Mia in the new luxury underwear Sylvia Hudson had chosen for her and delivered earlier, under my direction. Savoring the smoothness of her skin, I eased those fine panties up Mia’s thighs and secured her bra, cupping her breasts into that exquisite Badgley Mischka dress. I knelt at her feet and assisted her into strappy Louboutins.

She tied up her hair, leaving strands spiraling over her neck, showing off her ruby studded collar. She looked beautiful and she hadn’t applied makeup yet.

She disappeared inside the bathroom to do just that.

When she reappeared, she’d transformed her already radiant complexion with a soft blush, and those smoky eyes caught the light. That seductive way she peered beneath long lashes, and her lips were plumped with pink gloss.

Men were going to hate me tonight and women would be in awe of her.

I tipped a drop of cologne onto my fingertip and traced the edge of the droplet on her throat. I’d marked her with my scent.  

“I hate being late,” I said.

“We’re not late. We’ll be right on time.”

“No, Mia, we’re going to be late.”

“Traffic?”

I ran my thumb over her bottom lip.

CHAPTER 13

 

 

THE LOCATION CHANGED.

We were no longer headed to The Strand, having been redirected by Shay to Greystone Manor.

Mia sat beside me in the back of the limo looking remarkably fresh, considering I’d tied her to the bedpost and spent the last hour taking her to the edge of pleasure and teasing her into a frenzy.

This addiction wasn’t easing, these feelings I’d held back for far too long were all-consuming and showed no promise of letting up.

My fingers traced through her golden locks and I eased a wisp of hair behind her ear. “Apparently a celebrity is having a party at the Strand tonight and the place is crawling with paparazzi.”

“Scarlet won’t mind?” said Mia.

“No.”

We arrived just after 10PM.

Taking my hand, Mia elegantly climbed out of the limo.

We were within full view of the line of guests waiting on the red carpet to enter the club and were cordoned off by a velvet rope. Mia looked stunning and it was no surprise their gazes lingered on her. Her natural flair leant itself to an exquisite style, all flowing locks and fresh faced smile, emanating innocence. Protectively, I wrapped my arm around her.

The stocky bouncer narrowed his gaze when he saw us approaching. He spoke into his headset and gestured we could bypass the line and go on in.

The air-conditioning hit us as we entered the low lit foyer.

As did the music—the base vibrated from the rustic floorboards, alighting an already intense party atmosphere. Young, eager faces fell on us, the men checking Mia out and the women assessing the competition.

The female concierge hurried forward to greet us and in a flurry of caffeine fuelled enthusiasm led us to our party. As usual, Shay had smoothed the way for us. I was always grateful for his attention to detail.

The place was buzzing.

We dodged the stray dancers and hurried along, hoping there were no stragglers from the paparazzi here.

The manor was famed for its vintage style and modern décor, including a large performance stage flooded in bright multicolored lighting, with an outside arcade, and for those like us who needed a more exclusive experience sat the VIP room.

Cheers rose from our friends when we entered the private roped off section. Champagne already flowed and it was good to see Richard, Shay, and Arianna already having a great time. From their flushed faces, they’d hit the dance floor hard. Scarlet, Lotte, and Penny also greeted us warmly with hugs. Penny’s husband Miles had also joined us—a soft spoken man who worked as a set designer at Warner Brothers. His calm temperament suited Penny’s boisterous nature. He shook my hand and I introduced him to Mia.

“Happy Birthday, Scarlet.” I hugged her.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” she said brightly.

She looked so cute, a far cry from her status of being one of L.A.’s most preeminent dominatrixes, with her flowing auburn locks and elegant black chiffon dress.

We all settled on the leather seats and conversations picked back up.

I leaned back, stretching my arms along the length of the seat, and Mia snuggled beside me. That slow steady beat of music was easy to fall into. The entire place was conducive to people watching. Here and there puffs of smoke escaped from electronic cigarettes, vapor spiraling up and into nothing.

We had a sprawling view of the club. Beyoncé flooded the room with her lyrics about betrayal and heartache, echoing down on hundreds of dancers.

Arianna grabbed Mia’s hand and pulled her toward the dance floor. Mia turned to see if I approved and, with a wave, I sent her off to have fun.  

It dawned on me I’d never seen her dance.

I savored these firsts with her, keeping my gaze locked on them all the way to the dance floor.

My phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out. My gaze rose to meet Shay’s.

He’d sent the text.
I have one of my people on the dance floor.
 

I gave a crooked smile.

Shay gave one back.

Mia would no doubt soon disappear into the sea of bodies.  

She and Arianna moved perfectly with the base, their hips swaying, both of them mirroring each other. I scanned the crowd for Shay’s man but couldn’t see him. A pretty woman with an ebony complexion danced rhythmically beneath the lights. She’d closed in on the girls and frequently glanced their way.

Shay called over. “Ex-special forces. Emma kicks ass.”

“Good to know,” I said. “Don’t let her kick mine.”

He chuckled.

Mia ignored those around her. Her flushed face and big grin proved she really was enjoying herself.

It was good to see her let herself go.  

My thoughts drifted to the first time I’d ever seen her. A screenshot on Tara’s phone, my then secretary at Enthrall. Tara had been dating Bailey, Mia’s best friend, and she’d fallen head over heels for her. Tara had told me the blonde in the photo was Mia Lauren and she’d been friends with Bailey a long time. I’d taken the liberty of scrolling through Tara’s photos, checking out the others. One had stood out. And it had been life changing.

Mia didn’t know I’d seen it.

It was of her, Bailey, and Tara, standing on a balcony with their backs facing the camera, all three of them flirtatiously raising their skirts high above their butts. Mia had been the only one wearing panties, but her thong hid nothing. Mia’s flirty tilt of her head matched with her innocent smile as she looked back at the camera, her blue eyes sparkling with joy, her beauty enthralling—

Making me catch my breath.

That moment had spurred a need to protect her. Tell her to cover up so some young stud didn’t take advantage. Considering I ran one of the most hedonistic club’s in the world, it was quite a revelation.  

That glorious vision of her in the photo had inspired an idea. One that had come back to haunt me. If I’d failed at one thing in my recruitment of that fresh faced beauty, it was to assume such exhibitionism hadn’t come from a virgin.

My one regret with Mia was I’d not been the one to deflower her.

Still, I was more than making up for time with her now. My hands twitched, needing to touch her.

From the dance floor, she gestured she wanted me to join her.

I gestured with a shake of my head,
no
.

The music was loud, and though I managed to hold a conversation with Scarlet, if not a compromised one, it was good to catch up. Had I chosen the venue it would have been an intimate restaurant in Malibu overlooking the ocean. These clubs weren’t exactly conducive to fine conversation. But then again that was the point.

I took the chance to talk with everyone and hear their news, savoring these precious hours. Mia and Arianna spent the evening dancing away, their hairstyles now mussed up and their faces blushing wildly.

My phone vibrated again and I glanced down at the message.  

Alert for: Dr. Cole,
it began,
01:48. Cedars ER. Requests response
.

I texted back:
Dr. C.R. Cole, not on call. Alert A. Feinstein.
 

I tucked my phone back and listened into Scarlet and Lotte discussing Lotte’s brother’s timeshare in Hawaii and plotting their next vacation.

Shay sat beside me and leaned in to speak over the music. “We got the footage you asked for of Rodeo Drive. Wanna tell me what’s up?”

“I think Mia saw someone from her past,” I said.

“Who?”

“Didn’t ask.”

He looked surprised.

“If it’s who I think, the man left an indelible mark and not in a good way. She didn’t mention it, which brings me to the conclusion she suppressed her fear. It’s a delicate issue.”

“Want me to ask her?”

“No.”

“I’ll have that black Kia driver’s info for you by morning,” he said. “My guy’s out of the office. He’ll run the plates first thing.”

“I appreciate that.”

Richard leaned over and gave my back a pat. “Got a second?”

“Of course.”

We nudged up to a more private corner and huddled close.

Richard leaned in to talk more privately. “You look good.”

“You too. How are you?”

He stared off at the dance floor.

“You know I love you, right?”

He seemed to think about this for a while. “We miss you at Enthrall.”

“We?”

“Me.”

“Well that’s good.”

“I’m having a party at my place next weekend. Shay, Henry, you, and me.”

“You’re on.”  

He sat back. “When was the last time you checked your shares?”

“I don’t know. A week.”

“Tripled.”

The air left the room.

The dancers disappeared, everything disappeared.

“Richard, that would make you—”

“A stockbroking genius.”

On paper, I was three times the man I was yesterday. He’d pulled off a miracle. My brain tried to catch up. “How?”

“An 8 percent NASDAQ surge.” He shrugged. “This month saw the highest number of monthly buyback announcements in history.”

And on he went, relaying just how he’d taken my investments and made me three times the money I’d entrusted to him.

My thoughts reeled. “How can I repay you?”

“Steak dinner.”

And of course he’d also made a nice commission, adding a few million to his portfolio too, but he deserved every cent.

“I’m at a loss for words.” I shrugged out of my jacket, the heat getting to me.

“You had faith in me, Cam.” He let a moment sit between us. “That’s reward enough.”

After Richard’s dad had brought down Wall Street, Richard had lost every last one of his clients. Except me.

“What can I tell you, Cam? It’s in my blood.”

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