Thirty minutes later, the elevator doors slid open on the ground floor, releasing Hank and Kamilla into the quiet lobby. Officially, Kamilla's shift had ended at eight PM, a full three hours prior. But her dedication to her job, coupled with a genuine respect for Constance Hanigan and a burgeoning admiration for Mr. Avery's handling of the evening's crisis, had kept her by Hank's side. She appreciated the way Constance ran the company, and in the short time she had interacted with Hank, he had proven to be not only effective but also surprisingly respectful… a refreshing change from some of the entitled figures who frequented the building.
As they stepped out onto the cool night air of Miami, Kamilla turned to Hank, a playful glint in her mahogany eyes. "Want to get a drink?" she asked, her voice casual, yet with an underlying invitation.
Hank smirked, a knowing look in his eyes. "Trying to lower my inhibitions, Officer West?" he teased gently.
She returned his smirk, a hint of mischief dancing on her lips. "Maybe," she admitted, her gaze lingering on his for a moment. "But honestly, I was thinking I need one. Tonight was… eventful. And drinking alone after all that feels kind of like a downer. Plus," she added, her tone turning slightly wry, "I don't particularly feel like fending off every overly enthusiastic, drunk guy in whatever dive bar is closest to my place."
Hank smiled, understanding dawning in his eyes. "Very well," he agreed. "Lead the way. You know any good bars around here? I'm still relatively new in town, and my hotel is about twenty minutes that way," he said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the glittering skyline.
She smiled, a genuine, warm smile that softened her strong features. "There's a bar or two that way that might suit our needs," she said, a suggestive lilt in her voice.
Hank looked at her, a silent question in his eyes. "And what direction do you live?" he asked, wanting to gauge the practicality of her joining him. She nodded towards the opposite direction, away from his hotel. "I'll grab a cab when I'm ready," she said, her gaze meeting his with a confident steadiness.
Hank smirked again, a hint of playful skepticism in his expression. "You sure about that, Officer West?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. She simply nodded, her lips curving into a knowing smile.
They hailed a passing taxi, the yellow glow illuminating their faces in the night. Kamilla gave the driver directions to a bar a few blocks away, a low-key establishment she frequented after long shifts. As they settled into the back seat, the close proximity in the dimly lit cab seemed to amplify the unspoken tension that had been subtly building between them throughout the evening.
Then, her hand, strong yet surprisingly gentle, landed on his thigh, her fingers resting lightly on his leg. She turned her head, her mahogany eyes locking with his, a silent communication passing between them. Without any further warning, she leaned in and kissed him, her lips pressing against his with a sudden, almost urgent intensity. The adrenaline and excitement of the night, the shared experience of facing potential danger, and the undeniable attraction that had been simmering beneath the surface had finally reached a boiling point for Kamilla. Hank, Mr. Avery, had been nothing but professional and a strong, capable figure throughout the ordeal, a stark contrast to the vulnerability she had felt in the past. Her lips against his, she pulled back slightly, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Do you have something to drink in your hotel?" she whispered, her breath warm against his lips, her voice husky with a sudden desire.
Hank, caught slightly off guard by the suddenness of her advance but certainly not displeased, could only nod, a slow, deliberate movement. He turned to the taxi driver. "Change of plans," he said, his voice a low rumble. Then, he gave the driver the address of his downtown hotel, the direction of their evening having taken an unexpected and decidedly more intimate turn.
---
The moment the door to Hank’s hotel room clicked shut, the outside world and the lingering tension of the evening evaporated. Kamilla was on him again, her eagerness palpable, her lips finding his with a renewed, almost desperate hunger. Her hands, surprisingly deft despite their strength, were already working at his belt buckle, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through him. He placed his own hands over hers, gently stilling her movements.
“Miss. West… Kamilla,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble against her lips. She pulled back slightly, her mahogany eyes, now dark with desire, looking up at him questioningly. “There is something you need to know,” he said, his gaze direct and honest.
She nodded, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps, her anticipation evident in the way her body leaned into his. “I have a lot of women in my life, Kamilla,” he began, choosing his words carefully, wanting to be completely transparent with her. “Some I am intimate with, some not yet. You will not be my only woman if we do this.” He watched her reaction, the honesty feeling like a necessary prelude to any intimacy.
A slow, knowing smirk spread across her face, a spark of something akin to amusement in her eyes. His candor, rather than deterring her, seemed to ignite a different kind of fire within her. “But if I do this,” she whispered, her voice husky with a mixture of desire and a newfound understanding, “and I accept that… we can be together again?”
Hank’s smile was small but genuine, a reflection of his appreciation for her directness and her willingness to accept his unconventional life. He gave her a small, affirmative nod. “Yeah, Kamilla. You are fucking beautiful, and I can already tell you are loyal. Those are qualities I value deeply.”
Her smile widened, a flash of pure desire in her eyes. She resumed her work on his belt, her fingers now more purposeful, quickly undoing the clasp and the zipper. Then, with a practiced hand, she reached inside his trousers and gently pulled out his already hardening cock. Her touch was firm and knowing as she stroked its length, her gaze never leaving his. She leaned in and kissed him again, a soft, lingering press of her lips. “I want you to take me, Hank,” she whispered, her voice thick with need. “It’s been over six months since I’ve been with anyone.” The vulnerability in her admission, coupled with the raw desire in her eyes, was incredibly potent.
Hank’s arms wrapped around her waist, his hands splaying across the small of her back. He lifted her effortlessly, her surprise evident in a soft gasp, and carried her the few steps to the king-sized bed. He laid her down gently, his gaze sweeping over her strong, capable form. He leaned over and kissed her deeply, a promise of pleasure in the press of his lips. “Are you sure about this, Kamilla?” he asked again, needing to hear her affirmation. She nodded emphatically, her eyes filled with an unwavering desire.
Hank began to unbutton her uniform shirt, his kisses following the path of his fingers as the fabric parted, revealing the smooth skin beneath. He lingered at the curve of her collarbone, then moved lower, his lips tracing the swell of her breasts through her bra. He unhooked the clasp, and her full breasts spilled forth, their weight heavy in his hands. He kissed each one in turn, his tongue teasing her nipples until they hardened beneath his touch. Then, he reached for the waistband of her uniform pants, pulling them down in one swift motion, taking her panties with them.
His breath hitched slightly. Kamilla was built differently than the other women he had been with. She was more robust, her thighs thicker, her hips wider, but it was the solidness of muscle, the undeniable strength of her form, that captivated him. She was undeniably sexy in her own powerful way. He knelt between her legs, these legs that looked strong enough to crush his head should she ever choose to, but instead, they parted further, an open invitation. Without hesitation, he lowered his head and dove straight in, his tongue finding the slick heat between her thighs.
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Kamilla’s body jolted beneath him, a surprised gasp escaping her lips. The sensation was immediate and intense, unlike anything she had experienced before. His tongue felt like a live wire, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her. He licked and tasted, his mouth knowing instinctively where to linger, where to press, exploring every sensitive inch. Her hips lifted off the bed, her fingers tangling in his hair, her moans escalating with each skillful stroke. The pleasure was so overwhelming, so unexpected, that she almost cried out, her body arching and trembling beneath his devoted attention.
Hank’s focus narrowed, his tongue a relentless instrument of pleasure directly on Kamilla’s swollen clitoris. He could feel the tension coiling within her, the subtle tremors that telegraphed her impending release. Her hands, no longer hesitant, found his head, her fingers threading through his hair, urging him closer, pressing his mouth more firmly against her most sensitive point. He obliged, deepening his ministrations, his tongue delving into the hidden folds, mimicking the insistent rhythm of intercourse. A guttural moan escaped Kamilla’s lips, a sound raw and primal, signaling the imminent peak.
Just as the first waves of her orgasm began to ripple through her body, her muscles clenching and releasing in ecstatic spasms, Hank swiftly crawled up her body. He positioned himself above her, his own desire a throbbing ache in his loins, his gaze locked on her face, flushed with the afterglow of her climax. As she was still shaking from the intensity of her first release, he pressed his lips against hers, capturing her soft cries, and in the same moment, he plunged his hard cock deep inside her, filling her completely.
Kamilla’s body shuddered anew, a fresh wave of sensation washing over her, even more intense than the first. Her eyes widened in surprise, a gasp escaping her lips as she felt him stretching her, filling her with a satisfying fullness. Another orgasm, even more powerful than the last, ripped through her, a cascade of pure, unadulterated pleasure. It was a revelation for her, this back-to-back climax, a sensation she had never experienced before. Even her most sophisticated toys at home hadn’t offered half this level of exquisite torment and delight.
Hank began to pump into her, his movements deep and rhythmic, his desire a burning need to connect with this strong, alluring woman. Kamilla instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels digging into his back, holding him tightly against her, wanting to feel him as deeply as possible. "Oh god, keep going," she whispered, her voice shaky and breathless, her nails digging lightly into his shoulders. Hank needed no further prompting. He fucked her hard and deep, each thrust a testament to his own escalating desire.
Kamilla closed her eyes, her head lolling back against the pillows, her senses completely consumed by the rhythmic friction and the intoxicating feeling of being filled so completely. The pleasure built rapidly, and she could feel herself teetering on the edge of a third orgasm, her body humming with anticipation. Her inner muscles clenched around Hank’s cock, urging him on.
"Not inside," she gasped, her breathing ragged and out of control, just as Hank felt his own release building, the familiar tightening in his loins. He understood her silent request. With a final, powerful thrust, he pulled out of her just as his body convulsed, a torrent of hot, thick cum erupting from him, coating her stomach in a warm, sticky sheen.
Kamilla moaned, her eyes fluttering open as she watched his seed spill across her skin. A strange sense of possessiveness, of primal connection, washed over her. She ran her fingers through the warm liquid, a fascinated expression on her face. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she scooped some of his cum up and brought it to her lips, her eyes meeting his with a look that was both intensely sensual and deeply intimate. The taste was salty and distinctly his, a tangible reminder of their powerful connection.
Hank, his cock still throbbing with a potent afterglow, didn't hesitate. He guided himself back to Kamilla's slick, welcoming folds, the residual moisture a heated invitation. With a deep groan, he plunged back inside her, the renewed fullness eliciting a sharp cry of pleasure from her lips. Her legs and arms instantly wrapped around him, a possessive embrace that held him captive. Then, with a surprising surge of strength, she rolled them over, her body now dominant, straddling him with a fierce intensity.
She moved against him, her rhythm high and demanding, her eyes locked on his, a wild, untamed look in their depths. "You fucking just came," she whispered, her voice husky with lust and a hint of disbelief, "and you stuck it right back in." Hank nodded, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Sorry," he murmured, his breath catching as she rode him, "I couldn't resist your incredibly inviting body." She leaned down and kissed him deeply, her tongue tangling with his in a possessive claim. "Better make me one of your steady women, Hank Avery," she growled against his lips, the possessiveness in her voice leaving absolutely no room for argument.
Hank kissed her back with equal fervor. "I accept that, Kamilla," he breathed, his own desire reigniting with a fierce intensity. "Fuck… I want that." She smiled, a predatory gleam in her eyes, and rocked her body harder, grinding her hips against his cock. "How many?" she asked, her movements a sensual torment. "How many what?" he asked back, his senses overwhelmed by the feel of her riding him. She smirked, a knowing look in her eyes. "Women?" she clarified, her rhythm never faltering.
Hank smirked in return, a touch of playful defiance in his expression. "Three now… well, four with you," he admitted, his honesty a deliberate offering. Her eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing her features. "Steady? All four of them?" she asked, her movements slowing almost imperceptibly. Hank nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Who?" she whispered, her curiosity piqued, her desire momentarily overshadowed by intrigue.
Hank leaned up and kissed her ear, his breath warm against her skin. "A volleyball coach. She's on her way from Miami now to live with me," he whispered. Kamilla nodded, processing the information. "A volleyball player. She's in college, will move here in two years," he continued, his voice low and intimate. Again, she nodded, her thoughts racing. "And the third?" she asked, still slowly riding him, her gaze searching his. He smirked, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "Our boss," he said, watching her reaction intently.
She stopped moving completely, her body freezing above his. "Get the fuck out…" she breathed, her eyes wide with shock. "Miss Hanigan?" Hank nodded, a playful glint in his eyes. Kamilla buried her face in his neck, a soft groan escaping her lips. "Fuck, she is going to fire me," she whispered, the reality of the situation crashing down on her.
Hank gently lifted her face, his fingers tracing the curve of her cheek. He looked into her worried eyes and kissed her softly. "Wanna bet?" he asked, a confident smirk playing on his lips. A flicker of something sparked in her eyes. Unbeknownst to Hank, Kamilla had a history with gambling, a past littered with bad bets and lingering debts she was diligently working to repay. The thrill of the wager, despite her better judgment, held a certain allure. "What are the stakes?" she whispered, her voice laced with a mixture of apprehension and excitement.
Hank thrust upwards into her a few times, a primal urgency in his movements. "If you still have a job after I tell her you are my girl, you let me fuck your ass," he said, his voice low and demanding. She sat down hard on his cock, her breath catching in her throat, her body momentarily still. "And if I am fired?" she asked, her gaze searching his, a genuine fear underlying her bravado.
Hank smiled, his eyes filled with a sincerity that reached her core. "I will marry you," he whispered, the words hanging in the air between them, heavy with unspoken promises. She looked deep into his eyes, searching for any hint of deceit, any flicker of insincerity. There was none. Only a raw, honest truth that resonated within her. She leaned down and kissed him, her lips trembling slightly. "You really mean that, don't you?" she whispered, her voice filled with a fragile hope.
Hank smiled and thrust upwards into her again, his movements now infused with a renewed passion. "Abso-fucking-lutely…" he groaned, each word punctuated by a deep, powerful thrust that sent shivers of pleasure coursing through her. Her body convulsed, another intense orgasm seizing her, her grip tightening around him. Then, Hank felt the unmistakable tightening in his own balls, the imminent approach of his climax. "Fuck, Kamilla, I'm going to cum," he grunted, his voice strained. Whether she didn't hear him or simply didn't care, she kept riding him, her movements frantic and desperate. And then, he came, a powerful surge of release, his cum shooting deep inside her, a tangible symbol of their intense connection. She moaned, her body shuddering, and kissed him again, her lips clinging to his. "Fuck, Hank," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, "marry me anyway." Hank didn't say anything. He simply held her close, the weight of her words and the intensity of their shared passion filling the silent room.
