Invasive Questions IV
Alejandro's POV
I never wanted to fuck anyone as badly as I wanted Camila.
But I wasn't going to have her first time be in the backseat of a car. I instantly pull my finger out and clear my throat.
Luckily it's like she's already forgotten about it as a small devious smile graces her lips. "My turn." She says reaching her hand up to grip my tie and fiddle with it. I prepare myself knowing this isn't going to be good.
"What if I wanted to have a threesome? Would you have one with me?"
What the fuck?
My mind instantly refuses. There was no way in hell someone else was going to touch her like that. My eyes harden and stare down into her curious ones. "Absolutely not." I bite, trying not to ball my hands in fists, instead I settle on burying my fingers in her hair and gripping onto it.
If she was trying to get a reaction out of me, she was succeeding.
She bites her bottom lip and stares up at me, tilting her head in my lap. "What if it was with another woman?" And then she does that thing where she bats those thick fucking lashes but Im not caving for this.
I don't even hesitate. "Not a chance in hell."
I didn't give a fuck if it was a supermodel. No one else was going to pleasure her and certainly not before my own eyes.
I'd end up killing them. Man or woman.
She smiles like she was expecting that answer and I sigh knowing she was just trying to fuck with me. "Why the sudden obsession with threesomes?"
She shrugs, "I talked to Mason earlier and he was telling me about the threesome he recently had with two of the Beverly Hills housewives- the ones from TV!" And then she cups her mouth, "And get this, they're two of the married ones." She stage whispers, her eyes widening.
My mind instantly connects the dots. Mason was the boy I had thrown out of Camila's bed. The same boy I had threatened.
I didn't regret what I did, to be honest I didn't care for the boy. But after an hour long conversation about how she explained to me - in detail- about what she would do to my dick in my sleep if I touched him, I made the decision to leave him alone.
He was obviously very close to her and now, judging by the sound of it, he was harmless. "He fucks old women?" I ask incredulously. I didn't care for gossip, but this creeped me out.
I had briefly met most of them at the events Greta drags me to and those women were old enough to be my mother. Not to mention they were extremely handsy.
Who would want that?
Camila's hand comes out to smack against my chest. "That's my best friend, don't be so judgmental. Only I can be." She says.
I move my hands to push back the hair near her forehead, as I stare down at her, biting back a smile. "Okay, your turn, baby." I say, leaning back and shifting her head so that she's not uncomfortable.
She doesn't even think before she asks. "When was the last time you touched yourself to the thought of me?"
I didn't think she could take me by surprise, but I was genuinely taken back by the question and the way in which she asked so confidently.
I loved how confident and bold she was but I also didn't appreciate being put on the spot.
Instead of answering I raise a brow at her, "How are you so sure I've touched myself to the thought of you?"
I would be lying if I said I didn't touch myself to the thought of her. Hell, earlier when she had come out of the bathroom after her shower, I had walked into the walk-in closet to find her lathering lotion on herself.
Only she was topless.
I walked right out of the closet and into the bathroom for a cold shower but that still didn't stop me from slipping my hand down and fucking my fist until I shot my cum straight into the drain.
She raises a brow back up at me and grips onto my tie, pulling my head down slightly closer to hers. "You're telling me you haven't thought of me while fucking your fist? You get hard when I barely touch you."
I narrow my eyes, not being able to believe what I was doing. Spending my night in the back of a car, with my girl as she asked me the most invasive questions and like an obedient little puppy I was giving her the answers.
But I wasn't going to answer this time and it's like she realizes this because she rephrases the question with a little eye roll. "Have you ever touched yourself while thinking of me?" She asks dryly like she already knows the answer.
"Yes." I say before trailing my finger down to trace her jaw. I tilt my head and look down at her, the corners of my lips tilting. "Have you ever touched yourself to the thought of me?"
She looks up at me, her face dead serious. "Yes."
And I regret even asking because the information did nothing to stop my imagination from running wild. It turned me on to know that she was touching herself to the thought of me.
It's like she realizes this because she raises both brows and smiles. "Actually now that you mention it, the first time I brought myself to an orgasm was thinking about you."
Fuck.
There was no way for me not to imagine that sight. I throw my head back onto the seat and groan out. "Sarai la mia morte, sai quel bambina?" I say. (You're going to be the death of me. You know that, baby?)
Not only did I bring her to her first orgasm with my fingers but she also brought herself to her first orgasm at the thought of me.
My cock swells further beneath my slacks and there's no hiding the tent that instantly forms next to Camila's head in my lap.
She turns her head and giggles. "See? I don't even have to touch you."
I don't even care. I'm painfully hard and throbbing, so much so that when the car comes to a stop telling us we've arrived, I debate on just telling the driver to take us back to the hotel.
But then Camila jumps up. "Oh, we're here already?Damn time flew by."And the next thing I know she's heading for the door while I'm left to adjust myself with an irritated scowl.
The last thing I wanted right now was a boring dinner listening to fucking war stories.
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