All Over You (All Falls Down #3) (20 page)

"Don't think like that, kitten," he murmurs, cupping my face between his palms.

I can't help but think like that, though. "They think I'm coming back," I tell him, trying not to cry. "That's my fault, Cam. I let them believe I was going to be back because
I
believed it. This wasn't real to me then. I was naïve and assumed the truth would save me before my life was seriously impacted."

I was wrong…but I'm not going to let that break me. I refuse to let Fake Ivy win.

"We are going to find her," he promises me. "She's not going to get away with this."

I stare at him for a long moment, memorizing his face. He looks so certain, like he knows we're going to find her. Like he'll move heaven and hell to make it happen if that's what it takes. Like he's not going to stop until he proves my innocence.

"I want something," I blurt.

His gaze flits across my face, searching.

"I want to spend the weekend with you. Just me and you."

"Kitten―"

"Please," I whisper. I know there's a million things we need to do to ensure I don't go to prison for a long time, but I don't want to do any of them this weekend. Before I leave this room on Sunday, I want the weight of his body on top of mine imbedded in my mind. I want the feel of him inside me seared so deeply into my memory, nothing that happens once we leave here has a chance of making me forget exactly how it feels when he's coming in me. Before we leave this room on Sunday…I want every piece of him.

"Kitten―"

"You said I never had to beg you for anything," I remind him. "But I will if that's what it takes."

"Fuck," he groans, his expression torn.

"I want you, Cam. I want you in me, and I want you all over me. That's my last request as a free woman."

When his eyes drift closed, I know I have him.

chapter fourteen

pillowtalk

I wake up in the middle of the night to an empty bed. Sitting up, I blink when my gaze lands on Cam. He's seated at the desk across the room, his head bent over his laptop. He's still naked, my scratch marks on full display across his back. His hair is a wild mess, like he's been tugging on it.

"Cam?" I call softly.

He lifts his head and turns to me, blinking through bleary eyes.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, kitten. Just looking at something," he says, his gaze running across my body. His eyes heat, turning that stormy gray color I love. He pushes the laptop closed and rises, prowling toward me as his cock stirs, hardening. "Did you sleep well?"

I nod.

"Good." He smirks, the expression on his face predatory, primal. "I have plans for you, sweetheart."

My body responds to the wicked promise in his gaze, heat blooming. My nipples pucker, arousal flowing through me.

Cam climbs onto the bed, pulls the covers back, and then prowls over me, straddling my body. He pushes gently against my shoulder, pressing me down into the bed beneath him. Gathering my hands up, he wraps his fingers around my wrists, pinning them.

"Hi," he whispers then, his lips an inch from mine.

"Hi," I whisper back, my gaze locked on his face. With deep shadows beneath his eyes, he doesn't look like he's slept at all, but he still makes my heart race. The hint of stubble on his cheeks makes me want to feel his face between my thighs.

I shift, a soft moan breaking from my lips at the thought.

He leans in like he's going to kiss me, but he doesn't. Instead, he sinks his teeth into the sensitive flesh of my throat instead, making me moan again. "You still want to play?" he asks against my skin.

I nod eagerly.

"Good." He bites me again, pulling my skin into his mouth and sucking hard. "I'm going to fuck you until you beg me to stop, kitten," he warns me when he releases my flesh.

Oh, God.

"Please."

He leans away from me, smirking. "Wrap your hands around the headboard."

"I―" My heart begins to pound, a frenetic, excited rhythm.

"Now."

I do as told, reaching up and clutching slats in the headboard.

Cam watches me and then reaches over and snags a pair of my panties out of the floor. He eyes me for a moment, a speculative gleam in his gaze that has me breaking a sweat, wondering what he's going to do with them.

"W-what…" I have to lick my lips before I manage to force out sound. "What are you going to do with those?"

"Whatever I want."

Oh, sweet mother of God.

He lets the little scrap of lace dangle from one finger. He brings his other hand up, tracing his thumb across my bottom lip. "Maybe I'll gag you with them so no one hears you screaming my name." His hand drifts higher to rest over my eyes. "Or maybe I'll blindfold you with them so you can't see what I'm going to do to you."

"Yes, please." I'm not sure which I'm agreeing to, but the thought of either has me writhing beneath him, so turned on, I feel my arousal already wetting my thighs.

Is that normal?

I don't think I care.

"My greedy kitten," he murmurs, running his thumb across my lip again. "So willing and eager." He licks the seam of my mouth before biting my top lip, and then his tongue plunges into my mouth. Before I can even process what he's doing, his hands are on mine, and he's weaving my panties through the headboard, tying me to it.

"Oh, fuck," I moan, testing my new restraints when he lets go. The gorgeous bastard just tied me to the bed with my panties. They're tight enough to keep me in place without cutting off my circulation.

"Damn," he breathes, sitting back on his heels. "You look good enough to eat, all tied up and spread out for me. You want that, don't you? For me to eat you?"

I nod, the movement jerky, frantic. If I don't get relief soon, I'm going to combust.

"Not yet," he says and then wraps his fist around his cock, pumping as he straddles my chest. "I want your mouth, kitten. Give it to me."

I give it to him willingly, letting him to slip his cock between my lips.

"Fuck yes," he groans, throwing his head back as I take him in as far as I can and then swallow, allowing him to push his way down my throat. He wraps one hand in my hair, using the other to keep himself steady. He pumps his hips in a gentle rhythm, fucking my mouth.

He's so big, my lips are stretched to capacity around him. I push against my restraints anyway, eager for more. I don't want him to be gentle this time. I want him to take me, own me…
use
me.

"You want more?" he asks, dropping his head to watch his dick disappear between my lips.

I nod, moaning around him.

His eyes gleam with wild excitement. "Greedy," he says and then his grip in my hair tightens. He curses and then he lets go, fucking my mouth with abandon. His cock plunges and retreats, his hips rocking until his balls are practically against my chin. My eyes water and I have to take tiny breaths between thrusts, but he doesn't let up and I don't want him to. His face is flushed, his eyes nearly black with lust as he takes what he wants, using me for his pleasure.

It's so fucking hot, I can't stop moaning. Neither can he. Filthy sounds tear from his lips, a litany of curses and encouragements that have me going wild beneath him in search of a little relief.

"Fuck," he grunts. "Look at you taking my cock." He plunges and retreats again and then again. "Gonna come," he warns me before slipping right back into alpha-Cam mode. "Take it all, kitten. Every last drop."

I do, wrapping my lips around him and sucking hard as he throws his head back and growls his orgasm. His seed splashes against my tongue and the back of my throat. I swallow eagerly, not letting up until he shudders and pulls back with a hiss. His cock falls from my lips, glistening. He's still hard as a rock.

"Jesus Christ, kitten," he says, panting, and then he's on me. His teeth close around my left nipple and he pulls.

"Cam!" I cry out, arching upward as pain and pleasure mingle, sending lava into my veins.

He does it again before moving on to the right breast, paying it the same attention. His hands are rough against my skin, his fingers trailing over my body. He slips one hand between my legs.

"Fuck, kitten." He rears up and grabs my thigh, wrapping it around his hip. And then he's right there, thrusting inside of me in one hard movement.

A cry leaves my lips as pain and pleasure roll through me again.

He takes me hard, each thrust pulling a cry from my lips as it moves me up the bed. He doesn't stop or slow, instead doing exactly what he promised: fucking me until I can't take any more. Orgasm explodes through me so fiercely, I can't breathe. He still doesn't stop. Instead, he leans back onto his heels, wraps both of my legs around his waist, and goes harder.

One finger rolls across my clit, pressing.

I come again, screaming as pleasure rips me apart savagely.

"That's it," he growls. "Give me what's mine, kitten."

I fight against my restraints, trying to get my hands on him, but it's useless. I'm his, my body for his pleasure, and there's nothing I can do about it except take what he gives me. I do, again and again until sweat rolls down my body and I'm pleading for him to show me mercy, my body so sensitive that every thrust has his name exploding from my lips in a broken crack of sound.

Then and only then does he unbind my wrists and lift me into his arms, draping me over him. His thrusts slow until he's making love to me again, holding me against his chest.

His lips move across my shoulder and collarbones, and then across my face. "So perfect," he mumbles against my skin, pushing my hair away from my face. "Gonna keep you, kitten. Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours," I whisper, digging my nails into his skin.

"Come with me," he says, still moving inside of me. "Give me one more, sweetheart."

And I can't. I know I can't…but I do anyway.

"Cam," I whimper as he thrusts up into me and stills, calling my name as he comes. Orgasm sweeps through me again, pulling me under. His name echoes around the room.

"Kitten," he chants softly, his lips sweeping across my face as he holds me through it.

"I l love tattoos," I murmur, tracing my fingertip across the bold lines of the cross inked onto Cam's shoulder blade. He's on his stomach with the sheets twisted around his hips, watching me with that laser-focus of his, as if nothing outside of this bed exists for him in this moment.

"You don't have any," he points out, almost as if asking me why.

"I've always wanted one," I tell him, running my finger across the blue ribbon wrapped around the cross. It's so life-like, seeming to ripple and wave with each small movement he makes, like it's a living, breathing piece of him. "I just don't like needles."

"You'd look good with one." He trails a hand across my side, his fingertips ghosting across my ribcage. "Right here."

"Yeah?"

"Strands of ivy."

I smile, but don't respond, my attention on the cross. "What's this one for? The one with the date."

He tenses at the question, his body going rigid.

My gaze flits to his in time to see a flash of pain cross his face. He flinches, and for just a moment, he's vulnerable, exposed like he's never been before. The sight steals my breath and makes my heart ache. Whatever the tattoo means to him…it's not something he likes to talk about.

"You don't have to tell me," I hurry to say, not wanting to push.

He squeezes my thigh as if to thank me. "A friend was shot and killed in the line of duty last year," he says then. "The cross is for him."

"Oh." I shift my gaze back to the tattoo. It's a beautiful tribute, one that clearly means a lot to him. "I'm sorry you lost your friend," I whisper, leaning down to press my lips to the ink.

"Me too." A soft exhalation of air escapes his lips. "We met at the Academy. Graduated in the same class."

I crawl toward him and straddle his hips, trying to ease a little of the pain evident in his voice. He settles beneath me, allowing me to run my hands up his spine. I massage the tight muscles, reveling in the feel of his skin beneath my palms. He's so strong, so powerful, and yet he's one of the most gentle people I've ever met.

"Chris was on a traffic stop," he says, groaning as he relaxes again, his muscles loosening beneath my palms. "He walked up to the car, and this twenty-year-old kid opened fired. The bastard had an ounce of pot on him and didn't want to go to jail."

"Oh, wow."

"Chris died instantly. The kid who shot him is on death row now. All over a fucking bag of pot."

"I'm sorry." I lean down and press my lips to his shoulder again, not sure how to soothe him. His world is so different than mine in so many ways. He deals with life and death every day, and he does it knowing that there's always a chance he won't make it home at the end of the day, or that someone he cares about won't. The courage that takes is mindboggling to me. The thought that something could happen to him, that he could die like his friend, for no real reason and with no warning, makes my heart physically hurt.

"Have you ever been shot at?" I ask him, anxiety pulsing through me.

I think he hears it in my voice.

He flips over beneath me, grasping my hips in his hands to steady me. His gaze is open and honest when his eyes lock on mine. "Yes," he murmurs, not lying to me. "I've been shot at twice."

My stomach churns. "W-what happened?"

"I deal with criminals every day, kitten," he says instead of giving me details. "They don't always play nice."

"I don't want anything to happen to you," I whisper, pressing my lips to his palm.

He smiles at me, his expression softening. "You think I don't know that, sweetheart? I promise you, so long as I have a say in the matter, I will be coming home at the end of the day. There's no way I'm gonna let some motherfucker take my life when it's only just getting good. Believe that."