Page 225 of Corrupting Camille

Fuck me.

She takes a lazy, lingering lick, completely oblivious to the fire she’s igniting in my veins. The damn thing glistens wetly beneath the neon lights, her tongue tracing along its length again in a casual, mindless tease. She’s not even trying to provoke me, and somehow that makes the effect infinitely worse.

My jaw tightens. My pulse spikes.

She catches my gaze, eyes glittering innocently beneath those thick lashes. “You okay?” she asks sweetly.

“No,” I growl, barely containing the urge to snatch that fucking popsicle from her hand and replace it with something far filthier.

She grins slowly, wickedness dancing in her eyes as the Ferris wheel rises behind her, lit brilliantly in gold and silver.

“I want to go up,” she says, tilting her head, wide-eyed and deceptively innocent. “Come with me.”

I stare at the giant metal monstrosity looming dangerously above us. “It’s a death trap held together by rust and spit.”

She smirks, slow and devastating, then takes another long, sultry lick of her popsicle, her tongue tracing the length like she has no idea what she’s doing to me, and every goddamn idea all at once.

“So is your soul,” she murmurs, lips sticky and glistening as she steps closer.

“Camille…” I grit her name through clenched teeth, trying and failing to remember why I ever thought I had control.

She leans in, voice a whisper meant to ruin me." Take me up,” she purrs, dragging her tongue up the length of the melting rainbow. Then she lifts it to my mouth and licks the other side, eyes locked on mine, “And you can put it anywhere…daddy.”

My control snaps like a fucking tripwire.

“Get in the cart,” I growl, already reaching for her waist.

She grins like the the glorious little nympho she is, victorious and glowing.

Camille

I grin, smug and breathless, and spin toward the Ferris wheel like I haven’t just shattered him in front of half his family.

Fucking worth it.

The second he snarls out“Get in the cart,”my entire body lights up like I’ve just mainlined pure adrenaline. My skin buzzes, my thighs clench, and that deep, molten ache that only Kane Rivera knows how to ignite pulses hot between my legs.

God, he looks like he wants to murder someone. Or fuck me stupid. Maybe both.

I flash him a wicked grin, tossing the half-melted popsicle into the trash with a flick of my wrist. “You sure you can handle being that high off the ground, grandpa?” I chirp, already walking toward the Ferris wheel.

He doesn’t answer.

He just follows.

Stalking behind me like something dangerous off a leash.

The ride operator barely makes eye contact before waving us into the cart, and the moment the door latches, I know I’ve pushed him too far.

Perfect.

We start to rise, and the lights of the carnival smear around us in dizzying color. But all I can focus on is the burn of Kane’s stare. His hands rest on his knees, clenched tight, the muscles in his jaw ticking.

I sit across from him like a spoiled brat with a secret, crossing my legs slow and dramatic, letting my dress ride up my thighs just enough to bait him further.

“You’re quiet,” I murmur, dragging a finger along the condensation of the glass window. “I thought winning a stuffed bear and threatening a churro stand would’ve lightened the mood.”

He lifts his eyes, black fire, hot enough to scorch me.