Camila Cabello Imagines and Oneshots

35. Black Tie (mature)

⚠️ Mature - Smut ⚠️

—

"How do I look?" Camila asks with a small smile and a spin that sends her dress flying around her.

"Absolutely ravishing," I reply and she pouts as she looks at herself in the mirror once again.

"Do you think?" She questions again and, with a small sigh, I make my way behind her, kissing her exposed nape, since her hair is in an up-do, before resting my chin on her shoulder and looking into her reflection's eyes.

"Baby, you always look fantastic. And I'm not just saying that because I'm your wife and it's kind of my job." Her smile returns and my gaze drops a little to rest on her pulled-taut lips, "Tonight, you look even more stunning than usual. I'm not looking forward to having to share you with other people."

"Really?" She teases, turning and looking up at me.

"Really. Do we have to go? Executive parties are always so boring." I whine and she brings her arms up to rest casually over my shoulders, my hands instinctively finding her waist in our new position.

"Yes, we do because if we don't go you won't get that promotion you've been after for a year and I won't get to have my fun." She points out and I raise an eyebrow at her.

"And what 'fun' is that?"

With a wink, she replies, "You'll have to wait and see."

—

"Camila, stop."I hesitatingly hiss, trying to pull my ear away from her nibbling mouth. It seems she hasn't been able to keep her hands or mouth off of me since we arrived, and while I usually appreciate a little teasing, this is just too much. I'm legitimately scared it'll start running down my leg.

"Why? Executive parties are always so boring." Is her response, quoting what I said earlier. As if to prove her point, another man with white hair and a creepy smirk comes to stand before us, and she stops her now-licking of my ear to look at him, her arms crossed on my shoulder possessively. The hot stripes she's painted there go cold, almost making me shiver.

"Hi." I grin instead, sticking my hand out, "I'm Y/n Y/l/n-Cabello, this is my wife, Camila."

When I say her name, she doesn't offer him her hand. Instead, she smiles and gives him a curt nod. I clear my throat awkwardly.

"Ah, 'wife'." He repeats as though tasting the word, and by the look on his face it seemed to taste like lemon, "My name is Paul, Paul Rowan, and my wife is somewhere floating around." He gestures vaguely to the room and I let out a soft chuckle, "What's your role here?"

"Well, I'm currently CMO, chief marketing officer, but I'm hoping for and working towards CEO sooner rather than later as it would be beneficial not only in my career but in my life with this one, too," I say with a small joking tone at the end, jutting my thumb at Camila momentarily.

"Right." He nods and an older woman comes to stand right between us, regarding us with narrow eyes before looking over at Paul. She looks like a snobby bitch but I'm not gonna say anything.

"Come dance, Paul." She almost orders and the man looks at us with a shrug, stating 'duty calls' before slinking away with his arm snaked around his wife's waist.

"Why does he give me the creeps?" Camila asks, leaning back into my ear and making her hot breath billow against it.

"I don't know," is my reply as I turn to face her, propping her arms up around my shoulders, "but if you continue giving me these shivers down my spine I might just forget all about the ones he gave me."