Chapter 10: Cold Questions

"Nolly," I said. "You called me Nolly."

Camille pulled the sheet up to her chin.

"Did I?"

"You did."

"I don't know where that came from."

"Nobody has called me that in five years. Not you, not Dean, not anyone."

"Then you must have said it to me yourself." Her voice was too even. "On the bridge. Or the first night."

"I never said it."

"Then I heard it somewhere." She looked away. "The staff talk. I can't help what I pick up."

"Cam."

"Stop calling me that."

"You liked it three minutes ago."

She turned back.

Her grey eyes were bright, and her mouth was set hard.

I saw something cross her face then, fast and fierce, and I couldn't read it.

Then she pushed me down onto the pillows and climbed on top of me.

"Camille, we should talk."

"No," she said. "We shouldn't."

She kissed me before I could answer.

It was a different kiss from the first, deeper and angrier.

I was still hard from before, and she knew it.

She took me in her hand, rose over me and sank down all at once.

I groaned and gripped her hips.

"Look at me," she said. "Keep looking."

I looked.

She rode me with her hands flat on my chest, slow and hard, rolling her hips until I could barely see.

Her hair fell over her shoulders and her breasts moved with every stroke.

"Tell me again," she said, breathless.

"What?"

"That you never stopped."

"I never stopped."

"Say it like you mean it."

"I never stopped, Camille. Five years, every day."

She cried out and came apart on top of me, clenching so hard around my cock that I couldn't hold on.

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