reserved us a table at a Spanish club on Main Street. Also recommended by a patient of mine. Known for its Latin music and floor space.
We laughed.
We drank.
She danced, I watched with a drink in hand.
“Come on, dance with me!”
I grabbed her arm, tugging her to my face. “Not when you’re dancing for me.”
She smiled, beaming.
With a sway of her hips, she snapped her fingers. Slowly rocking her body in a circle, until her ass was in my face. She got down low, and I took a swig of my whiskey to resist the urge to bite her luscious ass.
The crazy part about Camila, she truly had no concept of how much she governed a room.
All eyes were on her. Men and women.
There was this energy that radiated off her. This confidence and sex appeal you didn’t learn. It was something you were born with.
She didn’t have to try, it was just there.
It came so fucking natural to her. Luring you in with a look…
A smile.
A slight movement in her body.
She was captivating. Exuding sexuality. A magnetic pull that forced you in without even realizing it.
In that moment, as much as I tried to ignore the thoughts hovering, I couldn’t.
I watched how she danced, how her tits bounced, her ass shook, and how her hands worked their way up her body. Remembering how I fisted my cock to this exact sight the last time I watched her in this way.
She was addicting.
Controlling my thoughts, my actions, my decisions.
Consuming every last part of me.
Especially how I wanted to end the night.
With my tongue up her ass.
“Come here.” I motioned with my finger.
She deviously smirked, and I pulled her toward me instead. Making her straddle my lap.
“You’re going to get us kicked out.”
“Great, faster I can take you home then.”
“Home? Is that what you think it is for me?”
“What else would it be?”
Her lips were close to my mouth.
Her perfect tits were pressed on my chest.
“I don’t know yet.”
“I know you do.”
She didn’t say a word, she didn’t have to.
Her eyes spoke for themselves.
<>Camila<>
I was dancing for him when I heard, “Dr. Pierce!” A man with long curly hair walked toward our table with a petite brunette holding his hand behind him.
I couldn’t help but notice how strikingly attractive they were, and how familiar he looked.
How do I know him?
“Mr. Montero,” Aiden greeted, shaking his hand before nodding for them to sit down at our private booth.
“Cami, this is Damien Montero and his wife Amira.”
“Hi, nice to meet you. I feel like I already know you. Where do I know you from?”
“The news. My husband has a hard time staying out of other people’s business.”
His hand twitched, like he wanted to spank her ass.
I laughed at the thought.
“Old habits die hard,” he announced, leaning back into the sofa. “It’s my job to involve myself in other people’s business.”
“That’s where I know you from!” I pointed at him. “You were that District Attorney who almost died, right? You got caught in the crossfire of a shootout in Miami?”
“The one and only.”
Amira rolled her eyes at her husband, breathing a sigh of relief. “Don’t remind me, worst night of my life. But thanks to your husband—”
“He’s not my husband,” I corrected, looking over at Aiden who didn’t bat an eye at her assumption.
“Oh, I apologize.”
“No need,” Aiden coaxed. “There are worse names I could be called.”
What the hell?
“You mean like Savior,” Amira professed, bringing my attention back to her. “Thanks to you, my husband is alive.”
I never expected her to follow-up with that. “What?”
“Dr. Pierce performed emergency surgery on Damien. He saved his life.”
What was Aiden doing in Miami?
“I was just doing my job,” Aiden simply stated as if it weren’t a big deal.
“Wow… I had no idea.”
“I owe this good doctor my life.” In a caring gesture, Damien gripped onto Aiden’s shoulder. “I’m no longer DA, but I still work in the Department of Justice. I don’t like owing people and it’s been almost five years and here I am waiting to return the favor.”
Aiden laughed him off, however, there was an eeriness in Mr. Montero’s tone that meant business.
What did he mean by that?
Aiden grabbed my hand and kissed it, like he knew what I was thinking and wanted to reassure me.
“What are you doing in North Carolina?” I asked, curious to know.
“I’m looking into a case. How’s Noah?” he questioned, quickly changing the subject.
“He’s good.”
“Staying out of trouble?”
“Define trouble?”
We all laughed.
“Tell him I send my regards.”
“Will do.”
“It was good seeing you,