Excerpt:
Corrupting Camille
Kane
All I see is her.
“That’s three to zero!” she shouts, cocky smile curving her lips, eyes locked right onto me, daring me, teasing me, claiming me.
My chest tightens. Fucking hell, I’d burn this whole carnival to the ground just to keep her smiling like that.
She moves toward me slowly, hips swaying, eyes glittering with mischief as she thrusts her stupid octopus into Lucia’s hands. The wind tugs playfully at her hair, curls tumbling in wild abandon until she sweeps it all up into a high, messy ponytail, baring her throat.
“You know, Rivera,” she drawls, stepping into my space, chin tipped defiantly as her gaze drags over me, wicked and slow. “It’s not exactly a victory if I’m just beating Lucia. Maybe you’ll actually give me some competition?”
Heat flares low in my gut, my pulse hammering violently beneath my skin. She’s baiting me shamelessly, recklessly, and every primitive instinct in my body demands I rise to her challenge.
“I don’t play games, Princesa,” I warn, voice rough-edged and dangerous, though the curve of her lips makes it clear she knows he’s already won.
She tilts her head back, exposing the elegant curve of her neck, eyes locked onto mine, daring me to resist. “Scared you’ll lose?”
My teeth grit, a smile sharp enough to cut pulling at the corners of my mouth. I close the distance between us, leaning down until my breath grazes her ear, my voice dropping to a dark, possessive whisper. “You already know I don’t lose.”
She shivers slightly, lips parting on a sharp inhale. But the spark in her eyes flares brighter, defiant and reckless, just the way I like it.
“There’s always a first time,” she challenges softly, smirking as she turns away, tossing me one last teasing glance over her shoulder.
Fuck.
I follow her without another thought, drawn to her like gravity, every dark promise of danger and violence forgotten in the fire of her gaze.
The world around us fades into background noise, neon lights, laughter, chaos, all fucking meaningless compared to the sway of her hips, the triumphant glint in her eyes as she leads me through the crowd.
She’s a reckless queen, taunting her king into battle. And I’m already helplessly, savagely lost.
We stop at some stupid shooting game lined with garish stuffed animals. Camille turns to me, brow lifted mockingly, daring me again, provoking that dark part of me that can’t resist her challenge.
“Can the big, scary cartel king handle a toy gun?” she teases, leaning casually against the booth, watching me with eyes too knowing, too sharp.
I step close, crowding her against the booth, caging her with one arm planted firmly at her side. My voice drops dangerously low. “Give me something worth playing for.”
Her gaze flicks up to mine, eyes darkening with desire and something intoxicating. She leans closer, breath warm against my jaw. “If you win, you get anything you want.”
I tilt her chin up with a rough thumb, studying her flushed cheeks, parted lips, the pulse fluttering wildly at her throat. “when I win, Princesa,” I rasp, voice dripping sin, “I’m taking everything.”
Her breath catches, and I watch in dark satisfaction as her confidence falters for one heartbeat before she steels herself again.
“Promises, promises,” she murmurs, smiling wickedly as she slips from my grasp, sliding one of the cheap toy guns into my hand.
She picks up her own gun, stance confident, eyes fierce with determination, hair wild in the breeze.
Game on.
The cheap plastic feels ridiculous in my hands, but her hungry gaze locked onto mine makes it worth it. Her mouth curves, smug and confident as she lines up the shot, certain she’s going to beat me.
Cute.
The buzzer sounds, targets pop up, and I fire. Smooth, precise, lethal, even with a damn toy in my grip. My shots land dead center, one after another, methodical, controlled. Beside me, Camille curses softly, missing twice, her frustration adorably obvious as she tries, and fails, to catch up.
When the game ends, the scoreboard flashes obnoxiously above us: my perfect score, her half-hearted attempt trailing behind.
Camille huffs, cheeks flushed with a mix of annoyance and reluctant admiration. She tosses her gun down dramatically, pouting. “You couldn’t let me have this one?”
“Not a fucking chance.” I smirk, savoring every second of her irritation.
“Show off,” she mutters, biting down on her lush bottom lip.
I lean down, crowding her space, savoring the way she trembles, how her pulse flutters at her throat, the intoxicating blend of defiance and surrender in her eyes. “I warned you, Princesa.”
She exhales shakily, glaring half-heartedly. “Fine. Claim your victory.”
My gaze drags slowly, possessively, over every fucking inch of her, letting her see exactly how I plan to claim her later, in private. Then I jerk my chin toward the prize wall. “Biggest one.”
The booth worker grabs the obnoxiously huge stuffed bear and shoves it into my hands with an amused smirk. I thrust it toward Camille, watching her eyes widen in surprise.
“Really?” She laughs softly, almost shy, gripping it with both arms.
“Consider it a trophy,” I say quietly, darkly, leaning closer again. My voice dips into something raw, edged with unmistakable promise. “And later, when I’ve got you head down and ass up, it’ll be something you can scream into.”
Camille’s eyes flare wide, heat rushing up her neck to color her cheeks a furious shade of pink. She shifts on her feet, clearly torn between embarrassment and arousal, her grip tightening reflexively on the oversized bear.
“You’re fucking shameless,” she whispers breathlessly, voice shaking, pupils dilating with undeniable hunger.
“You love it,” I rasp, lips grazing the sensitive spot beneath her ear. “You love it when I’m filthy. Admit it.”
She inhales sharply, pulse throbbing visibly at the base of her throat, defiance warring openly with submission in her gaze. “Maybe.”
“Definitely.” I catch her chin between my fingers, forcing her eyes to mine.
She shudders visibly, eyes darkening, breath hitching in anticipation. I step back just enough to give her space to breathe, a wicked smirk curving my lips
“Now,” I murmur softly, tucking a loose curl behind her ear, my touch deceptively gentle. “Go show Lucia your new trophy. Let her know exactly who won.”
She glares, “You’re an asshole, Kane Rivera.”
I grin darkly, possessively, sliding my thumb over her lower lip savoring how she trembles beneath my touch. “And yet you can’t get enough.”
Camille rolls her eyes, biting back a reluctant smile as she pulls away, gripping the enormous stuffed bear with exaggerated possessiveness. Lucia and the twins rush over, laughter bursting from their mouths as Camille holds up the massive stuffed animal triumphantly.
“I hate to say it, but Kane kicked my ass,” Camille admits grudgingly, eyes twinkling despite herself.
Lucia grins, nudging her playfully. “Yeah, that’s because he cheats.”
Marisol snorts, arm looping casually around her sister. “He always cheats.”
I watch them all together, the playful banter, their laughter rising effortlessly above the noise. Diego shifts slightly beside me, mouth twitching into something that resembles a smile.
“Look at you,” he murmurs quietly, amusement threading through his voice. “Almost enjoying yourself.”
“Don’t fucking start,” I grumble, but I can’t quite bite back the faint smirk pulling at the corners of my mouth.
Marisol catches my eye, brows raised in mocking disbelief. “Is that an actual smile, Kane? Careful, your face might crack.”
Camille glances back at me, her eyes warm and teasing, lips curving into a soft, secretive smile reserved just for me.
“See?” she says sweetly. “Told you a night out wouldn’t kill you.”
I shake my head slowly, fighting another grin as the twins erupt into fresh laughter, Lucia tugging Camille toward the next bright attraction. I follow closely, keeping watch, tension still coiled deep within me, but for just one night, just one fucking moment, I let myself breathe.
Camille returns moments later with a fresh, sugary churro in hand, eyes dancing mischievously. “Want a bite?”
My gaze slides over her, lingering meaningfully on her lips. “Always.”
She rolls her eyes again but steps closer, holding the churro to my mouth. I take a slow, deliberate bite, eyes locked onto hers the entire time, tasting sugar, cinnamon, and her lingering heat.
She blushes slightly, pulling the churro away and pointedly taking a huge bite herself. “That’s enough for you.”
Fucking typical.
We drift through the carnival again, the family shifting around us like a constellation—Diego murmuring something to Rosa that makes her laugh softly, the twins shamelessly stealing sips from their boyfriends’ drinks, and Lucia racing recklessly ahead toward some gravity ride I wouldn’t let Camille near if my life depended on it.
Camille’s eyes light up, sugary cravings pulling her toward a stand glowing beneath the Ferris wheel. She emerges moments later clutching a rainbow popsicle, lips curving with childish delight as she brings it slowly to her mouth.
My entire body goes rigid.
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.
“You’re not gonna make it off this ride in one piece, Camille.”
A delicious shiver shoots down my spine. I smile sweetly, feigning innocence. “Then I guess you better break me in before we hit the ground.”
His eyes flash.
And I know exactly what’s coming.
He moves.
Fast.
One second I’m smirking like a smug little brat, the next his hand is in my hair, tight at the nape of my neck—and I’m being yanked across the tiny cart with zero finesse and zero warning.
My breath snags, caught between panic and arousal.
Then his mouth crashes into mine.
It’s not a kiss. It’s an attack. Wet, hot, open-mouthed destruction. His tongue claims everything, like he’s trying to burn his name into the roof of my mouth. Our teeth clash, lips bruising, breath heavy and tangled and wild.
I moan against him, clawing at his shirt as he pulls me deeper into his lap like he can’t get me close enough, like we’re not even in public, like the world below us doesn’t exist.
Only Kane does.
Only this.
He breaks the kiss with a sharp tug of my hair, forcing my gaze to his. His eyes are feral. Ravenous.
“On your knees.”
My stomach flips violently.
I drop like I’m meant to be there.
Dress pooling around my thighs, heart pounding against my ribs, fingers clutching the seat beside his leg as I kneel in the swaying cart. Carnival lights bleed through the glass, streaking my flushed skin in gold and red.
Kane tilts my chin up with two fingers, eyes locked on mine, as he expertly unbuckles his belt, unzips his jeans and pulls himself out.
“Say ‘ahh,’ Princesa.” His voice is low. Rough. Dangerous.
My lips part.
And I obey, because my current mind frame is all slut.
“ahh…”
His smile is dangerous. Filthy. Perfect. “Such a good girl,” he praises, thumb sliding deeper, pressing my mouth wider. …“Now let’s put that pretty mouth to better use than sucking a popsicle,” he rasps, voice dripping dark, filthy promises.
He fists his cock, thick and hard, glistening obscenely at the tip as he trails it across my lips, smearing his desire like a brand. Teasing. Mocking. Claiming.
My breath shatters into sharp little pants, heart slamming violently behind my ribs, but I obediently part my lips wider, tongue slipping out to taste him instinctively.
“Eyes on me,” he commands roughly, voice edged with a cruel smirk.
I meet his gaze.
Eyes wide. Lips trembling. Mouth open and desperate.
He slides in without mercy, slow, thick, relentless, stretching my lips and hitting the back of my throat in one filthy, possessive thrust. Tears sting instantly, throat convulsing around him as I jerk reflexively back, overwhelmed.
But his hand fists brutally in my hair, yanking me forward until my nose brushes his skin, until I choke beautifully around him.
A dark, wicked chuckle escapes him. His eyes, hooded and blazing, look down at me with savage delight.
“Oh no, Muñequita,” he murmurs, voice dripping with sinister affection. “You wanted to play dirty games, Camille. Now be a good little slut and finish what you started.”
His cock throbs against my tongue, and I swear I feel him twitch when I gag again, helpless and messy. He holds me there, buried deep, letting me choke on it—on him—until spit drips from the corner of my mouth and tears streak down my cheeks and his smile is pure sin.
“There she is,” he growls, voice guttural, hips rolling slow and brutal as he starts to fuck my mouth like it’s his personal toy. “Look at you…on your knees, drooling all over yourself…mouth made to suck my cock, ”
He pulls back just enough to let me breathe, the head of his cock resting heavy on my tongue, strings of spit and precum connecting us in a wet, obscene line.
“Lick it…”
I do, reflexively, desperately, moaning around him like a starved girl licking the edge of madness.
His hand flexes in my hair again, dragging me back down hard. “I know that throat can take me in deeper…”
His voice is a velvet-wrapped threat as he forces me all the way down, plunging deeper until my nose presses into the rough fabric of his jeans, his scent intoxicating and overwhelming. My throat constricts violently around his length, gagging, throat spasming in raw protest but Kane just groans louder, savoring my struggle, savoring the way I fight and lose, again and again.
“Fuck yes,” he snarls, hips jerking mercilessly, pushing himself deeper until my nose brushes the coarse dark hairs at his base. “That’s it, Camille. Take every inch. I want to feel your pretty little throat tighten around me.”
I gag, eyes flooding with tears that streak down my flushed cheeks like rivers of sin. He holds me firmly, forcing me to stay exactly where he wants me, trapped, powerless, choking beautifully on his cock, the taste of him floods my senses, salt and dominance and desperation coating my tongue, until drool pools on my chin and drips down onto my trembling thighs.
“Choke on it, Princesa.”
He thrusts back into my mouth hard and relentless, fucking into my throat with savage strokes, taking everything I have and demanding more. My nails dig helplessly into his thighs as he uses my mouth mercilessly, cock swelling impossibly thick, throbbing against my tongue.
“Yeah…just like that…” he growls. “Take me all the way in, show me how good you can be.”
My head spins as I gag again, throat fluttering wildly around him, tears soaking my cheeks.
I moan around him again, the vibration wrenching another low growl from his chest, fingers tightening painfully in my hair.
He sets a savage rhythm, fucking my mouth deep and punishing, claiming me completely. Pleasure coils low in my belly, twisting tight with every filthy thrust, every broken sound of hunger he rips from my throat.
“I’m close, Muñequita,” he warns, voice cracking with raw, brutal need. “And you’re going to swallow every drop. Aren’t you?”
I look up at him through tear-blurred lashes, utterly destroyed, and nod eagerly around his cock.
He curses violently, thrusts growing frantic, hips snapping erratically, until finally he plunges deep, grinding himself brutally against my lips.
He spills hot and thick down my throat, forcing me to take it all, holding me still as I swallow every last drop obediently, greedily, perfectly.
When he finally pulls out, I gasp for air, filthy, trembling, ruined.
Kane strokes my cheek gently, thumb smearing the mess across my lips as he smiles darkly down at me.
“That’s my good girl,” he whispers, voice a sinful promise. Without warning, he fists my hair again, yanking me brutally to my feet and slamming his mouth against mine in an explosive, savage kiss. His tongue invades, tasting the wicked cocktail of him and me, stealing every breath until I’m dizzy with it, clinging helplessly to his shoulders.
When he finally pulls back, eyes wild and feral, his voice is raw command, sharp-edged and possessive:
“You said I could put it anywhere, Camille,” he rasps, voice dripping dark intention as he shoves my dress up, exposing me entirely. “Now touch your fucking toes and give me my pussy.”
I bend forward obediently, palms hitting the cool glass, thighs trembling as I grip my ankles, completely exposed, heart hammering like it’s trying to escape. Kane’s fingers dig harshly into my hips, holding me still as he drags his cock slowly along my drenched slit, teasing, tormenting, spreading my arousal until my knees threaten to give out beneath me.
“You’re fucking dripping, Camille,” he growls, voice dark with approval and cruelty. “This sweet little pussy knows exactly who it belongs to, doesn’t it?”
“Y-yes,” I gasp, pressing back desperately, shamelessly begging him to fill me.
His palm cracks sharply against my ass, making me jolt forward. A cry tears from my throat, pain mixing deliciously with raw, aching pleasure.
“Louder, Muñequita,” he commands harshly, delivering another stinging slap, harder, crueler. “I want everyone down there to hear who owns this pussy.”
“It’s yours,” I cry out, voice broken and needy, the burn from his hand making me wetter, more desperate. “Only yours. Please…”
“That’s right,” he whispers roughly, gripping my hips brutally as he aligns himself, pressing just inside me, stretching, teasing, making me whine with desperation. “And now you’re going to take every fucking inch, princess.”
He thrusts forward in one merciless stroke, burying himself to the hilt, filling me so completely I nearly collapse. He holds me up by sheer force, fingertips bruising my flesh, breathing hot against my neck as he leans over my trembling body.
“Good girl,” he praises darkly, voice dripping sin and ownership. “Now take it like the filthy little slut you love to be.”
He fucks me hard, savage, hips snapping violently, cock pounding relentlessly inside me. Pleasure coils, spiraling tighter with every brutal thrust, until I’m screaming, clawing at the glass, vision blurred, body shaking uncontrollably.
“That’s it,” he snarls, driving deeper, harder, claiming every inch of me. “Come on my cock, Camille. Show me how much you fucking love this.”
I shatter instantly, violently, falling apart around him, body jerking helplessly, pleasure so intense it hurts. His mouth finds my ear, teeth grazing the sensitive skin, breath hot and possessive.
“I’m nowhere near finished with you yet,” he warns, voice low, dangerous, and devastatingly seductive. “But first, let’s make sure everyone down there knows exactly who fucked you senseless.”
And he thrusts deeper, starting all over again.
Nothing but madness.
👀🖤