Better Than Margs

BETTER THAN MARGS

M ost people have a favorite day of the week. I think it's a way of coping with the mind-numbing repetition of working in a capitalistic society. Like, "you worked your ass off for eighty percent of the week just to survive, so here's four-dollar margaritas at Monsey's every Tuesday." Not that I'm complaining about four-dollar margaritas. In fact, Tuesdays used to be my favorite for exactly that reason. But you know what's even better than sweet, tart, blended tequila?

Sex.

Specifically, hot, dirty sex with a foul-mouthed, blonde-haired woman whose ass was crafted by the Gods. That is why Thursdays are the fucking best. And after my shitty day at work, and Angela up my ass, I don't think I can wait another minute.

I push open Cam's front door, the beige paint-chipped wood swinging open with ease. She really should lock the thing. I could be anyone.

Dawson rounds the corner from the hallway, his pointed ears pinned to the sides of his head. But just as a low growl begins to rumble in the base of his throat, recognition pools in his golden eyes, and his muscles relax.

"Hi," I coo softly, scratching gently behind his ears. He lets out a satisfied groan, then promptly turns, trotting back to the bedroom. I guess that's my cue to follow. I toss my backpack onto the counter and begin my short venture down the hallway.

I love this hallway.

Last week, I had Cam pressed against the left wall, my hand tucked sweetly between the wet folds of her pussy. The week before, she gripped the right wall, as her leg wrapped around the back of my head, pulling my mouth further into her dripping cunt.

A shuddered breath slips from my lips, and I'm really hoping the burning sensation in my cheeks isn't visible. Sure, I might be here for a literal sex appointment, but that doesn't mean Cam needs to know how badly I want her.

Her door is ajar when I finally reach the bedroom, but she doesn't notice as I push it open further and lean against the worn frame. Instead, she simply adjusts her position in bed. Her back is pressed to the headboard, a thick book resting on her bent knees. Pink light floods through the open curtains, painting her entire body a warm, rosy shade. She looks like an actual angel, but the things I want to do with her would send us straight to hell.

I admire her, taking in the beauty I'm about to create a mess of. Cam tucks a tendril of blonde hair behind her ear as she leans deeper into the book, almost like if she gets close enough, she'll somehow fall into the story. A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth, and I don't bother fighting it back.

"I could be an axe-murderer," I say pointedly. Cam's body jolts, her eyes snapping up to look at me while her hands slam the book closed. I toss myself onto the bed next to her.

"That's not funny," she snaps, a crease forming between her feathered brows. I shrug.

"I'm serious. Literally anyone could have walked through your front door just now. You should lock it."

Cam's gaze shifts to the wall in front of us for the pure purpose of making a point. The point being that she is, as usual, annoyed with me.

"You should knock." She glances at me subtly, then scowls when I catch her and fixes her gaze back onto the wall. "And besides, you're early."

I slide my phone out of my back pocket, pointing the screen at her so that she can see it. Her annoyance shifts to surprise, then back to annoyance.

"It's seven already?" she groans airily, stretching her limbs out so that her body takes up the majority of the bed. I click my tongue once and cock a teasing brow at her.

"Oh, is that inconvenient for you Princess?" I taunt. "I can go home."

I say it as if the warmth between my legs hasn't been throbbing since the moment I began my drive here. Hot, needy pressure is building. Pressure that needs to be released. But Cam has every right to change her mind.

"No," she says quickly, her eyes flicking to mine as a red tone rises to the tops of her cheeks. While my lungs deflate with relief that I won't have to rely on my shower head tonight, my ego inflates at the sound of Cam's definitive, and hasty assurance.

"So what," I tease, eyeing the book on her lap. I reach out to grab it. "Just upset that you have to stop reading your—"

"No!"

Cam practically yells the word, though by the flush of her cheeks, I can confidently say she hadn't meant to. She tugs desperately at the book, but my grip only tightens, my curiosity building.

"Oh?" I tilt my head innocently. Cam's lips part, but quickly snap shut as she reaches for it again. I pull it away, my brows raising inquisitively. Although, I'm not sure Cam is too keen on sharing the reasoning behind her loud and abrupt reaction. I look down at the book, bright colors printed on the thick matte cover. Two illustrated women decorate the front, both in contrasting hockey jerseys with arrogant smirks plastered on their faces.

"Sports?" I ask. " You? "

"What's that supposed to mean?" she huffs.

I shrug. "Just didn't take you for the sports type. But I guess you did kick my ass at bowling so…"

Cam scowls, and tries again to snatch the book, but I'm able to keep it safely in my grip.

"Aht—" I hold it high above my head. "Now what is in here that you so badly don't want me to see?"

"Nothing."

"Liar."

"Am not!" Her voice squeaks at the end of the statement, making her deception that much more obvious.

"Okay," I shrug. "So then you don't care if I open it?"

Cam's lips press together into a flat line. "Nope."

"Cool."

I bring the book down, parallel to my face so that I can see it, but keeping Cam in my peripheral vision just in case she tries to snatch it again. Which, of course, she does. Thanks to my oldest-sister reflexes, I move it quickly out of her reach.

"Okay! Okay, okay," she pleads, and she almost sounds desperate. Begging. God, I love how she sounds when she begs. "Alright. It's a sports romance, yes. But it's…"

I wait patiently for her to finish. Cam's the type of stubborn where if you push her too much, she turns into a solid ball of tight-lipped lead. But the tip of her nose begins to flush, and she swallows hard.

"Alright. I like sports. What's the big deal?" I ask. Cam just continues to stare nervously. My fingers venture between a small gap in the pages of the book, and I don't break eye contact until I flip it open, letting my gaze fall to the inked letters.

The handcuffs click as she snaps them closed around my wrists. I tug on them, not because I want to slip out, but to give her the illusion that she's really the one in control. In all honesty, if I wanted to break free, the headboard's wooden dowels could easily be snapped.

"Is this okay?" she asks nervously, a lilac hue glowing in her cheeks.

"Kai," I say sweetly. "Every second that you touch me is a privilege."

My gaze snaps to Cam, her cheeks radiating with a color comparable to summer-picked cherries. Handcuffs? I hadn't considered handcuffs… I want to pin her down to the bed right now and kiss her. Suck on the sweet spot near her collarbone and tell her how badly I need her. But my eyes draw back to the pages in front of me, and I keep reading.

Kai's cheeks suck in as a smirk tugs at the corners of her mouth. She leans over me, her nipples dragging along my exposed chest, and the cuffs tighten around my wrists.

Oh fuck.

"Tell me to stop," she whispers, the vibrations of her voice tickling the shell of my ear. A heavy pulse thrums from my clit, and my hips roll toward her slightly. "And I'll stop."

I look back up at Cam, her face now hidden behind her hands. I close the book, setting it on the nightstand beside me.

"Cam," I say, pulling her hands down. She tries to fight it at first, but ultimately succumbs.

"It's not—" she starts. I want to stop her right there and tell her that there's nothing to be embarrassed about. But if there's one thing Cam hates most of all, it's being interrupted. So I let her continue. "It's just a book."

I smile. Not a taunting grin, not even an intrigued smirk. Just a soft, genuine smile. To let her know that it's okay.

"You know." I pull her hair gently to one side, exposing her neck. Then, I lean in, pressing my lips to the soft, pale skin. "I think it's hot." I feel bumps wash over her as I make contact, and Cam's breath hitches in my ear.

"Whatever," she mumbles. My fingers drag gently along her jaw, and I cup her chin.

"Cameron." Her eyes snap up to mine, and she swallows nervously. I love the way her chest shakes when I say her name. How her breathing becomes subtly more rapid, and her pupils dilate. "It's sexy as fuck that you read to learn what you like."

She stares up at me, trembling breaths slipping from her lips. She doesn't say anything. She just stares. Still cupping her chin, I take my free hand and tuck her bangs behind her ear.

"Can I kiss you?" I ask. Cam nods, softly but quickly, like she had been waiting for me to ask.

I lean forward, pressing my lips to hers. You'd think I was used to kissing Cam by now, but still, every time our lips touch, a fluttery feeling tickles my chest. Her lips are soft, and raw from her anxious chewing. She tastes like honey, no doubt from the granola she's always snacking on. My tongue slides through the opening of her mouth, the smooth caress of hers dragging against mine. A pulse radiates in my clit, and my fingers glide to the back of her head, tugging gently on her hair.

"Wait." Cam pulls back, a curious shimmer in her eye. I tilt my head.

"What is it, Princess?"

She hops out of bed, making her way to the closet. She digs through a drawer for a moment before finding what she's looking for, holding it behind her back as she approaches me.

"What do you have back there?" I cock a brow. Cam puts on a smile that I know is falsely confident, but I love the dimpled effort. Hesitantly, she pulls her hands in front of her, a long, silky tie hanging from her fingers.

"Only if you want to," she says. The gold flecks in her eyes seem brighter, somehow. The setting sunbeams filtering through the window illuminate them in a way I can't say I've seen until now. If I'm being honest, there is nothing on this planet I could want more than her.

"Every second that we touch is a privilege," I whisper. Then I grip her hips and pull her on top of me.

She smiles as her lips press to mine, her hands fumbling around me. I feel my wrists pull behind my head, and my eyes shoot open.

"Wait," I say, but I don't fight back. " You're tying me up?"

Cam pulls at the fabric hard, the knot twisted around my wrists tightening. A devilish smile pulls at her lips, and she looks down at me innocently.

"Was that not specified?"

Holy fuck. Cam's confusing because, one minute, she's anxious as hell. Unsure of what she wants, unsure of herself. But the next, it's like this power flows through her. This confidence that makes her entire body radiate and makes my entire body ache.

"Not complaining," I shrug, to the best of my ability. "Just surprised. Though, maybe I shouldn't be. You know, with your control issues and all."

Cam's brows furrow. "Careful, boss. Remember whose hands are tied to the bed frame right now."

And she's right. Unlike what was happening in that book, this headboard is metal, and the knot is tight. It would take a lot of strength and persistence to get out of this, but for some reason, that only makes me more excited.

Cam straddles my hips, her arms crossing over her body as she pulls her shirt over her head. God, she's beautiful. Cam has these freckles, small isolated spots that spread sporadically across her body. There's one on her left cheek, and another on her right shoulder. But my favorite is the one on her stomach, about an inch to the right of her navel. I want to kiss it, then drag my tongue down to the waistband of her shorts, tugging them off with my teeth. But when I try to lean forward, the fabric around my wrists tightens, and my head falls back onto the pillow.

"Don't be impatient," she teases. If my hands weren't bound right now, I'd devour her. "I just took that off so it doesn't get soaked."

Just the word "soaked" coming from her pretty pink lips is enough to make my hips buck, and an unbridled whimper escape my mouth.

"What?" I manage to squeak. Cam flashes me a taunting smirk, a challenging gleam shining in her eyes. She scoots herself back, her fingers hooking around the band of my underwear and jeans. I suck in a breath as she pulls them down, a shiver running through my body as the cool air hits my skin.

Cam pulls my jeans all the way to my feet, carefully weaving them off of my body. Then, she crawls forward, hooking her arms around the underside of my thighs.

Strength has always been my priority. Physically, mentally, emotionally. I've always strived to, at the very least, appear secure. Indestructible. But from the way my breath is trembling, and how my hands are gripping the silky tie in desperation, I think it's fair to say that when it comes to her, I am so fucking weak.

A loud moan tumbles from my mouth as her tongue drags between my wet folds, my clit aching at the smooth contact.

"Oh fuck Cam," I groan, rolling my hips into her mouth. The grip around my thighs tightens, and her tongue circles around my swollen clit like a ballet, the rise and fall of my chest the orchestra. I've never needed someone so badly in my life.

"You like that?" she asks, sucking the skin on the inside of my thighs between her teeth.

I groan. "Yes."

Cam pulls back, the pupils in her deep brown eyes blown wide. She holds up her index and middle fingers, then places them against my heat, a smile growing on her face.

"Tell me how much you like it."

Cam is hungry with power, and I think it might be my favorite version of her. Her cheeks glow, her chin tilts up, and that sweet dimple in the corner of her mouth turns almost evil. I'd like to think I could fold her right now, with my words, or the touch of my hand. But I like how she looks too much to test it.

"I like it so much," I say. "That if you don't start touching me soon, I'm going to have to break from these ties and do it myself."

And with that, Cam buries her face back between my thighs. My back arches as my clit begs for more pressure, and Cam complies, letting her tongue venture around it. Her mouth feels cosmic against me, hot, wet desire pulsing through my body. She moans against my clit, and just the sound of it is almost enough to tip me over the edge. Forgetting my hands are tied above my head, I reach down to push hers further into me, and of course, fail.

"What, you want more?" she asks. I nod desperately. Cam's fingers carefully dip inside of me. The soft ridges of her fingertips run along my walls, and my back arches again, forcing her to go deeper.

Her tongue finds my clit as she pumps her fingers rhythmically, curling them with the precision of a goddamn mathematician. My stomach tightens as my breathing speeds up, my fingers gripping the fabric of the tie to support my shaking body.

"Fuck, I'm—" I groan, my head rolling back. "I'm—" I try to get the words out, but my voice keeps breaking.

Cam doesn't stop. She doesn't tell me to come for her. She doesn't speed up. She just keeps rolling her tongue in circles, her fingers moving in a calculated but messy way. Pressure builds inside of me, begging to be released. I rock my hips forward, feeling her fingers bury inside of me until the knot in my stomach tightens so much, it feels like it's going to shatter.

A soft moan vibrates from her mouth at the same time one slips from mine. I ride the wave of energy against her face, needily gripping the tie so hard I'm sure my knuckles have turned white. Goosebumps wash over my skin as I feel the pressure inside me release, the rise and fall of my chest slowing to a steady, panting rhythm.

Cam pulls back, swiping her fingers along my wet, dripping center, and sucking them into her mouth. I stare at her in disbelief, blowing a strand of hair off my forehead.

"A privilege, huh?" she taunts. I squint my eyes at her, but a smile breaks across my face.

"Untie me, Princess."