Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
I jerk in surprise at this proclamation because that information was not passed on to me. I glance at Paul, ducking his head, hiding a smirk. It’s then I notice that Camille wobbles slightly to the left, and I realize she’s a little more inebriated than I thought. I imagine once the whirlwind of dancing settled down, and she came out here to see what was going on, the alcohol caught up with her.
In his nasally, British accent, The Creep expresses his offense. “How dare you threaten me with such a thing, you high-and-mighty bitch.”
His words are cut off at bitch as my hand shoots out and closes around the front of his throat, squeezing and choking everything else off. Baxley’s eyes bug out of his head, and it’s Paul who speaks in a low murmur, “Easy, Jackson.”
I can get in serious trouble for this. My job is to protect the princess no matter what, but in this moment, she’s not in physical danger. I am, however, assaulting a member of the British royal family for calling the princess a bitch, and I’m not sure how that is going to fly.
I release my grip on Baxley’s throat and turn to Paul. “Will you escort this gentleman to his vehicle so he can leave the premises? I’ll take the princess back inside.”
Paul nods and takes The Creep by the back of his neck the same way I propelled him out here. He goes muttering and cursing, but at least he goes.
I turn to Camille. “I’m sorry if it offends you that I did that to your ex-boyfriend.”
Her eyes grow as large as saucers. “My what?”
“He said you two dated in college,” I reply, realizing by her reaction that was probably an exaggeration.
Camille wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. “As if I’d date someone named Baxley. It’s a dickish name.”
I actually have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop the bark of laughter and then force a serious tone. “Would you like to go back inside and continue your party with your friends?”
She beams a glorious smile at me, and fuck if it doesn’t take my breath away. “I would like that very much, Jackson. Thank you.”
Camille then loops her arm through mine, hooking our elbows together, and I have no choice but to escort her back in that way.
♦
My hips rotate and grind, thrusting my cock deeper into her warmth. My face is pressed into her neck, her skin soft and sweet smelling. She raises her legs and wraps them around my waist, digging her heels into my ass.
“Harder, Jackson.”
I go harder.
Deeper.
I take every inch of what she’s giving me and then I demand just a little more.
“Going to come,” she whispers just before she starts quaking in orgasm underneath me.
Her fingers slide into my hair and she grips it tight, moaning her release.
I’ve got no choice but to let go, and I fuck her hard.
So hard that the headboard bangs against the wall.
Thump.
Thump. Thump.
I jolt awake, sitting up straight in my bed and straining my eyes in the darkness, my ears open and listening intently.
Another thump, followed by a cry of pain, and then a crash.
All coming from Camille’s suite next door.
“Fuck!” I fly out of bed and grab my gun from the bedside table. When I’m working, I wear sweatpants and a T-shirt to bed rather than my normal naked nothing so I can move quickly toward danger. I rush to the door that separates my room from hers. I push the knob downward and come up hard against a locked door.
“Son of a bitch,” I curse, wondering what the hell Camille was thinking by locking the door between our rooms.
I specifically told her not to.
I take one step back, raise my right leg, and knowing it’s going to hurt like hell because I’m barefoot, I give a front push kick to the door with enough force that the casing splinters and the door crashes inward. I rush through, gun ready to fire the minute I locate whoever is in her room trying to hurt her.
The lights were left on in the main living area, and I can quickly tell there’s no one here. I rush to her bedroom, and from the light flooding through the doorway, I see Camille on the floor wrapped up in her sheet.
I move to the bedside table and turn on the lamp, making a quick scan of the interior of the bedroom. It looks clear, but I open the closet door to be sure, finding it empty but for her clothes. I turn my attention to Camille on the floor tangled in her sheets and looking otherwise okay. I’m confident she made the noises I heard but I still feel a sense of relief when I check the bathroom and it’s empty.