Dr. Stanton Box Set - T. L. Swan Page 0,187

sensory overload. I close my eyes to try and hold it off.

“Look at me,” he whispers as he grabs my jaw and drags my face to his. “Do you feel that, Ash?” He pumps me hard. “This is the only cock you’re going to feel ever again.” He kisses my ankle softly once more.

Oh, God...

I can’t hold it. I lurch forward as my orgasm rips through me, and he holds deep as his body empties itself into mine.

He falls onto me and I stare at the ceiling. We’re both covered in perspiration and breathing heavily. “I can’t wait to fuck your ass that hard.” He smiles sarcastically against my shoulder.

My eyes widen. “For the record, Cameron Stanton, you are never fucking my ass that hard,” I mutter dryly.

He lifts himself up onto his elbow and looks down at me. “My wife. My ass. My way.” He raises his eyebrow in a silent challenge.

I widen my eyes and shake my head. “You do know that your romantic score is now sitting at negative two, right?”

He kisses me on the lips, tenderly. “I don’t need a romantic score because I know I can give you a ten right here.” He flexes his dick inside of me. “I also know that you are a sex maniac.” He winks cheekily. “So, that works in my favor.”

“You’re off the scale between the sheets.” I smirk, because he really is ridiculously good in bed. “It’s immeasurable, actually.”

He slowly pulls out of me as he laughs that beautiful carefree laugh before he falls beside me on the mattress. He slides his arm under my head and pulls my body half over his. “Well, then… Seeing that my life’s goal has always been to have an immeasurable cock…” He kisses my forehead. “My work here is done.”

“Negative five,” I reply flatly.

He laughs out loud and I feel it all the way to my bones. “Shut up or I’ll fuck you again, Tucker.”

“How much farther?” Owen whines from the back seat.

“Not long, buddy,” Cam replies as he glances at the Google Maps on the dashboard. We seem to have been travelling through the countryside for a long, long time, pastures new for as far as our eyes can see.

It’s Saturday and we’re on our way to San Diego to see the property I inherited from Gloria. Well, the property we inherited.

We haven’t had time to look at the other house in town yet, but for some reason this is the one I’m dying to see the most.

“So, tomorrow?” Cam says.

“Yes?” I reply.

“I thought we might go and look at a few wedding reception venues.”

“We have heaps of time to do that.”

His eyes flicker to me. “Well, not really. We’re going to have trouble getting in somewhere as it is.”

I look over at him. “What? They don’t have one booking available next year?” I roll my eyes. Him and this damn organization fetish.

“What are you talking about? Next year? I want to get married next month.”

I scrunch up my face. “What? That’s ridiculous.”

“When were you thinking?” He frowns.

“Not next month, for God’s sake,” I mutter. “I want to lose at least five kilos before I get married. I haven’t got a dress or anything.”

He shakes his head in disgust. “You are not losing any weight. Wake up to yourself, woman. You’re perfect just the way you are.”

That’s a bit cute. I smile at him and he reaches over to take my hand in his, placing it on his lap as he thinks.

“I need at least twelve months, Cam.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?” I ask.

“I want to be married now. Why on Earth would you need twelve months?”

“I need to get a dress, find a venue, organize everything.” I shake my head. “This is overwhelming, and you know how time-poor I am already.”

He thinks for a moment. “Well.” He shrugs. “I’ll organize it. You just need to pick the venue and your dress. I’ll do everything else.”

He’ll do everything else? As if!

I know for a fact that he has already lined Adrian up for the job. Adrian rang me on the Monday morning we got back from Vegas to discuss color palettes. “Don’t you mean Adrian will do everything else?” I ask.

He shrugs. “You know Murph loves weddings and shit.”

“Don’t say shit, Dad,” Owen calls from the backseat.

“Sorry,” he replies with a roll of his eyes. “Fucking shit,” he mouths so Owen can’t hear.

I smirk. Watching him getting his language picked up by his goody two-shoes son really is amusing.

We drive

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