Page 205 of Just for the Cameras
He pumps faster.
Harder.
Sweat builds between us.
Our moans mix.
The feeling of ecstasy spirals up my spine as the friction builds and builds until…
“Motherfucker!” he yells as he stills inside me.
And the view of him coming, his entire body freezing as pleasure rips through him, is the sexiest, most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced.
His hand falls between my legs and rubs against my clit, finishing me off so I find my release as well, my body shaking with my orgasm as I try to catch my breath.
He leans forward, his lips brushing along my shoulder blades and then to the back of my neck. “Will never have enough of you. Never.”
He turns my face and kisses me on the lips just as he removes himself from me and helps me stand tall.
He spends the next few minutes cleaning us both up, making sure I’m properly dressed in a pair of shorts and his shirt, then he takes me downstairs, where we find OC in the kitchen with a display of pastries on the counter and orange juice in some glasses.
Smiling brightly, he says, “That might have been your most entertaining sex session yet.”
Oh, dear God.
He did hear us.
Graydon tenses next to me, pulling me closer to him. “Talk about it again, and be prepared for my fist to meet your face.”
OC quickly holds up his hands in defense. “Sorry, just…wow.” He looks Graydon up and down. “Impressive, man.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“It’s fine,” I say, trying to calm Graydon before he really does punch OC, because I could see it happening. “He’s right, Graydon. You’re very impressive.”
His eyes land on mine, and the scowl in his brow lessens as he leans down and lightly kisses my lips.
OC clears his throat and says, “Uh, anyone want to compliment my spread? I woke up early to grab it from the corner café, along with some orange juice and coffee. Thoughtful, right?”
“Are you really looking for a compliment?” Graydon asks.
“Dude, I gave you one.”
“Don’t call me ‘dude,’” Graydon snarls.
Tugging on his arm, I say, “The spread is very impressive. Thank you, OC.”
He lifts a chocolate croissant and takes a large bite from it. “I know it’s not the most nutritious, but when dealing with a broken heart, I find that I work best when filled with buttery, flakey goodness.” He lifts the plate. “Pastry?”
Graydon moves past him and grabs the milk from the fridge, then pulls a tub of protein powder from up top. “I’m good.”
OC’s face falls, so while Graydon makes his protein shake that I know he likes to have every morning, I take a seat at the kitchen island and pick up one of the Danishes with cherries in the middle.
“Don’t mind if I do.” OC lights up like a puppy dog when his owner returns home, and tosses me a napkin, then hands me a cup of orange juice.
“Are you a pastry girl?”
“Pretty much love anything with carbs.”
