Chapter 127 Any Last Words—Part 1

• Camille Charleston was properly fucked if the jelly-like feeling in her limbs and the throbbing ache in her lady bits were anything to go by. No surprises there. After all, Ralph, one of her junior reporters at Scandal and latest boy toy, knew his way around the sheets.
• He wasn't particularly good at his job by any stretch of the imagination. His weekly satire column on the country's politics often put her to sleep. But, what he lacked in the way of skills at the office, he more than made up for in her bed. And this was the only reason she'd kept him around. Camille didn't tolerate mediocrity in her life, and Ralph was far from mediocre when it came to using his tongue and dick.
• As satiated as she was, though, she had to send him home ASAP. She never made the mistake of allowing her lovers to stay the night. She wasn't about to start now with him. She loved her personal space too much. Though she'd admit, he looked thoroughly tempting as he lay there, with the covers spread over the lower half of his sculpted torso and the soft glow of the downlight bouncing off the tiny beads of sweat coating his smooth mahogany skin.