SOLD TO AUGUST CHILDE

013

CAMILLA

The screen switched to footage of the announcement.

I froze.

My stomach dropped so fast I thought I might actually be sick.

August’s mother, radiant as ever, smiled for the cameras with that practiced grace, answering questions effortlessly. August himself stood off to the side, trying to cover his face with his hand. He dropped it, spinning away from the cameras, moving fast, clearly furious. Taylor followed behind him, her cream dress flawless, her posture perfect, and her expression controlled.

I turned slowly toward Ama, feeling leaden in my legs. Every nerve in my body felt tense, braced for impact. “Ama… the news?”

She stood up quickly, moving as if to leave. Her eyes met mine for a brief moment, filled with something I couldn’t read entirely—regret? sympathy? caution? I grabbed her arm gently but firmly. “Is… is that real?”

Her face softened. She nodded once.

“Shit.” The word tumbled out before I could stop it. My hands flexed in frustration. “Why did he bring me here knowing fully well that he has a fiancée? My goodness. What the hell is wrong with him?”

Ama looked at me, confusion and concern mingling on her face. “You didn’t know he was in a relationship?”

I threw my hands in the air. “Of course I didn’t! I was focused on getting my life out of Rico’s mess. I had little to no time reading gossip blogs or watching celebrity news!”

Realization flashed across her face. “Oh… I… I thought you were the side piece. I’m sorry.”

“Now that you know I’m not, please let me go.” My voice was shaky, raw, and I could feel the anger simmering beneath the surface.

At that moment, the front door opened, and August stepped inside.

He looked wrecked. His eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed, like he had been fighting—inside or out, I didn’t know. Every step he took toward me radiated tension and frustration.

Before I could say anything, he pulled me into his arms. It was a hug that crushed me into him, bone-deep and unrelenting.

His face buried itself in my hair. His hands fisted the fabric of my T-shirt, gripping like he needed to anchor himself. I could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest and the tremor in his shoulders.

Ama slipped out quietly, giving us privacy, leaving the room silent except for the sounds of him holding me.

The hug lasted long enough for me to relax, long enough for my arms to wrap around him. His body shivered against mine, and I could feel his vulnerability in a way I’d never imagined.

Finally, I whispered, “August…”

He loosened his grip slightly, just enough to look at me. His thumbs brushed over my cheeks, soft and tender, lingering. Then he leaned down, pressing his lips to mine.

I didn’t kiss him back at first. My mind was still a whirlwind of shock from the news—fiancée, wedding, June eleventh—but the pull was too strong to resist.

When I finally kissed him back, I started soft, hesitant, and unsure. Then deeper. His tongue traced mine, a perfect rhythm that made all my confusion, all the noise outside, disappear for a second.

He lifted me suddenly. My legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, and he carried me up the stairs like I weighed nothing, never breaking the kiss.

The moment we reached his room, he dropped me onto the bed. The mattress dipped under my weight, sheets cool against my heated skin. My body still buzzed from the tension of the day, and I wanted to say something, scream at him, demand explanations—but the sight of him, looming over me, stopped every word before it left my throat.

“August…” I whispered, breathless, but my voice sounded fragile, small.

“Shhh, baby. Don’t say anything.”

He sank to his knees at the foot of the bed, eye level with my center. The sight of him there—broad shoulders filling the space between my thighs, dark hair falling forward, eyes locked on me with something raw and desperate—made my chest tighten.

He spread my legs apart slowly. His palms were warm on the insides of my thighs, thumbs stroking soft circles that sent tiny sparks racing up my spine.

My body responded before my brain could process it, arching slightly, instinct taking over.

He kissed the tender skin just above my knee first. Then higher. A slow trail of open-mouthed kisses made me shiver involuntarily. Higher still. Until his breath ghosted over me.

I wasn’t wearing anything underneath, so I was exposed.

He pressed the gentlest kiss right to the head of my p***y. Then his tongue flicked out. One long lick from bottom to top dragged a moan straight out of my throat. The sound startled me. My hands flew to his hair, fingers threading through the dark strands, gripping, holding, needing him closer.

He groaned against me. The low vibration hummed through my core, sending sparks shooting behind my eyes.

His tongue circled my c**t—slow, lazy circles at first that made my hips twitch. Then faster. He sucked the sensitive bud into his mouth. Flicked it with the flat of his tongue in quick, relentless strokes. Over and over. My body betrayed me, trembling, hips arching into him.

I arched off the bed. “August… oh God…” I gasped.

He slid two fingers inside me without warning. Curled them just right, hitting the spot that made stars explode behind my eyelids. Pumped them in time with his tongue. Sucking. Licking. Curling.

My thighs started to shake. Heat coiled tight in my belly. “I’m… I’m gonna…” The words barely formed. My hips bucked instinctively.

He sucked harder. Fingers thrusting faster. Deeper. The pad of his thumb brushed my c**t in tiny circles while his tongue kept working.

I shattered.

A sharp cry tore from my throat. My whole body clenched around his fingers. Waves of pleasure crashed over me, hard and endless, until I was trembling. Breathless.

He didn’t let up. I felt him lapping me through the aftershock, like he was memorizing every inch of me.

When the tremors finally eased, he rose. Shoved his boxers down in one rough motion. His c**k sprang free—thick, hard, and already leaking at the tip. Veins standing out.

“Suck me,” he said. Voice gravel-rough. Low and commanding.