Chapter 34
34
Josefine
Damn, that should have earned me a gold star. More like five hundred gold stars. Turning Cameron down was no easy feat. If my pussy could talk, she would have told me to lie on my back and shut the fuck up. In fact, she’s screaming at me right now, throbbing with want. Wanting the man on the other side of that door, the one who’s stark naked with water dripping down his chiseled body.
Even after a day of traveling, he looks better than I remember. A Mediterranean tan highlights his dreamy features and accentuates the sinewy muscles of his arms. I shut down the traitorous quiver my body unleashes at the thought and drag the covers up to my neck.
When Cameron steps out of the bathroom, he’s met with a view of the back of my head. Squeezing my eyes closed, I will him to hurry. I feel bad that he’s going to be stuck sleeping on the sofa in his own home, but the determination etched on his face told me I wasn’t going to win that round. A drawer near the foot of the bed slides open, then another. I feel his gaze on me like a hot, intense spotlight. A sigh, then the soft click of the door .
Rolling onto my back, I throw my arms across my face. What am I doing? Is it too late to go somewhere else for the night? Is it too early to go back to my apartment? The email said we could return on Monday. Technically , it is Monday. I swipe my phone from the nightstand.
Me
Guess who came home early???
I will Millie to respond. I need a pep talk. But no message. It is the middle of the night, after all.
My body’s circuiting with fitful electricity. There’s no way I’m sleeping now. So I tap on the Instagram icon, well aware that scrolling on my phone is the last thing that’ll help. I notice Cameron is online. Great. Here we are, under the same roof, doing the same thing but separately. That is not weird at all.
My phone buzzes a few seconds later. A DM from @click_it_with_cam .
Cam
What are you doing awake?
I contemplate just silencing my phone and rolling over, but my fingers have other plans.
Me
Can’t sleep
Cam
I’m sorry. I feel like that’s my fault
Me
It’s not. You didn’t even know I was staying here lol
Cam
True. Ezra is gonna hear it from me tomorrow winking face
Rather than respond, I stalk his Instagram grid. Yeah, I’m a glutton for punishment. I swipe in a swift upward motion, and pictures fly by in a blur like the wheel from The Price is Right .
The fifteen-photo grid displayed when it stops is full of photographs of places and things—hotel lobbies, a meadow of wildflowers, specialty cocktails and an artisan charcuterie board next to a luxury pool. There are a couple of featured people too. There’s one of Cameron and Ezra at a baseball game. Another I recognize instantly. It’s me, but this photo wasn’t taken recently. It’s the picture he had framed on his desk in Greece. The one of me jumping off the side of the boat in my pink bikini. The date beneath it shows he posted it more than a year ago. And the caption? The most beautiful view I’ve ever seen .
My pussy is no longer screaming. No, she’s got a full choke hold on me now. A relentless ache tugs behind my heart. I don’t have time to think about what this means, though, because another message comes through.
Cam
You still there? I can’t sleep…
Me
I’m here
Why can’t you sleep
The man traveled across an ocean today. He’s got to be exhausted.
Three dots appear, then disappear. Then reappear.
Cam
Truth?
Me
Truth
I grin at the memory of the night I tried to get him to play Truth or Dare at the bed-and-breakfast.
Cam
I can’t stop imagining how you were grinding against my mattress before I interrupted
Yup. Pussy, meet choke hold. Help .
Cam
When you leave tomorrow, will the scent of your pussy be branded on my sheets?
Dear Lord, the man’s lewd. I fucking love it.
Me
You’re making this really hard for me
Cam
I could say the same about you…
I snag my vibrator and twirl it. He’s right about one thing—there’s no way I can go to bed in this state. I’m way too pent up. Why does it feel like the man’s sexual energy has a force field over me?
An idea strikes me then. One that’ll leave me satisfied and won’t have me going back on my word…
Mere seconds after I text Come here , the bedroom door flies open and a shirtless Cameron skids across the hardwood floor.
When I turn on the bedside light, I can’t help but revel in the merriment brightening his stupidly handsome face.
“I have a proposition,” I say, sitting up higher against the headboard.
He takes a hesitant step closer, his brows jumping. He regards me, then my toy, then me again. Oh, I’ve piqued his interest, all right.
It’s more than a force field of sexual energy.
With a deep breath in to ease the ache in my chest, I push that thought away.
“Neither of us is falling asleep anytime soon,” I begin.
A nod, then he’s positioned in the middle of the room, hands clenched into fists at his sides and his chest heaving.
I stand by my decision. I won’t have sex with him, but I have needs—and dare I say kinks? A little voyeurism could satisfy us both without crossing the line.
It’s the perfect loophole. I’m metaphorically patting myself on the back for having come up with it.
Cupping the long, slightly curved vibe in my left hand, I continue. “How about this? You can look, but you can’t touch me.”
Cameron, hair still wet from his shower, drags a hand down his face. A faint “fuck” falls from his lips.
I quirk an eyebrow, silently asking, Are you in?
Without a word, he closes the space between us, only stopping when his knees bump the side of the bed. He yanks the sheets, eager and impatient, like a kid with wrapping paper on Christmas morning.
“Spread your legs, gorgeous.”
He snags two pillows and settles them halfway down the bed, and without needing direction, I swivel so my upper body is propped against them. I plant my feet on the edge of the mattress and spread my legs. Then I tug on the hem of his T-shirt I’m still wearing, pulling the fabric up my abdomen until it rests just below my breasts.
I never answered when he asked why I was wearing his shirt. My first instinct was to lie and say because my clothes were already packed, but neither of us would have believed that. The truth is, I haven’t been able to shake thoughts of him. Our time in Greece has left a stain on my soul. So when I found myself sleeping in his bed, I swiped a shirt from his drawer and wore it like I had on the nights we were together in Greece.
“Let me see that pretty pussy.” He pulls me from my reflections.
His eyes are glued to my core, where I’m exposed and vulnerable. I never did put my underwear back on. “Doesn’t look like you’ll need lube,” he says. “You’re already fucking soaked.”
I swirl my favorite toy through my wetness and drag it up my slit. I’ve never pleasured myself with an audience before, but I’m instantly a fan. Putting on a show, I’m discovering, turns me on more than if I were solo.
I dip the vibrator into my entrance, then trail up to my clit, slo-o-o-wly, several times over. Cameron’s eyes are locked between my legs; mine are locked on his. When I finally turn on the device, he startles. A laugh bursts from my lips, making him scowl at me. But the laughter dies and is quickly replaced by a moan as the vibrations stimulate my clit.
With a curse, he grips the bulge in his sweatpants.
“I said you couldn’t touch,” I reprimand, when he rubs his length through the fabric.
He gulps. “You said I couldn’t touch you .”
Touché.
I don’t argue. Watching him touch himself is only speeding along the momentum building inside me. Like live-action porn. With one elbow, I prop myself up for a better view. He takes my silence as permission, and when he drags his pants down his thighs and lets them drop to the floor, I fucking whimper.
He snickers. The man’s no idiot—he knows exactly how to get me going. Damn, I love how in tune he is to my needs and desires.
Fuck, I cannot be using love in reference to this man.
“Where’d you go?” he whispers.
See? He just knows .
Shaking my head, I focus on what’s in front of me. The way he strokes his length and swirls his precum at the tip with his thumb forces a whimper from me.
He huffs out a laugh in response, and I shoot him a glare. But my grudge doesn’t last long. Between the vibrations and the sight of this gorgeous man throwing his head back in ecstasy, I’m perched on the edge. Watching him jerk himself is torture. Why did I make the stupid no-touching rule?
“Let me see you slide it inside,” he rasps.
I obey, arching off the bed and finding a rhythm.
“Thatta girl,” he croons. “You like being filled up. You wish it was me fucking you right now, don’t you?”
My groan is confirmation enough.
“Eyes on me.”
When I force my attention to focus on him, he’s leaning over me with one hand planted by my side and the other gripped tightly at the head of his cock, like he’s fighting not to spill himself all over me. Still, he’s not touching me.
When I mutter, “I’m close,” he spits in his hand and coats his cock and matches my pace, stroke for stroke.
I can’t look away from him. I say his name like a prayer.
“That’s it. Don’t slow down now, sweetheart.”
I drag the vibrator over my clit, relishing the rumble that works its way through me .
When he grits out “Come for me, baby,” I’m a goner.
Without constraint, I squirm and shiver, conceding to ecstasy. My eyes are shut tight when the first warm droplets hit my belly. Fuck, I don’t want to miss this. When I open them, the image above me is magnificent. Cameron, quivering and grunting through gritted teeth.
“ Fu-u-ck, ” he howls in pure bliss.
With one final shudder, he collapses onto the bed to my right, hand lightly wrapped around his cock.
The aftereffects of my orgasm are subsiding, the heat in my core banking just a little, but there’s still a faint pulsing sensation inside me.
Next to me, Cameron props himself up on an elbow and assesses my body, now sprawled out on the bed. “Shit,” he sighs, taking in the cum pooling in my belly button. “I’m sorry.”
Still riding my high, I dip my finger into the milky warmth and drag it over my lips, then lap it up with my tongue.
“Fuck, Joey,” he pants, his hot breath caressing my cheek. “Are you trying to kill me?”
I stifle a predatory laugh, then heave myself up on both elbows.
“Wait.” He sits and snags a few tissues from the nightstand, then wipes at my stomach with a flourish. He surveys me, his breaths slowing. We stay like that for a heartbeat too long, but before I can muster the energy to back away, he excuses himself and strolls to the bathroom. He turns on the water for a moment, and then he’s back, crossing the room in full birthday-suit glory and scooping his sweatpants off the floor.
He holds out my silicone toy. My clean, dry silicone toy.
“Did you just clean my vibrator?” I ask, dumbfounded. I hadn’t noticed he swiped it from the bed.
He nods. “Consider it the sixth love language.”
Love language. He can’t be saying shit like that. Not when I’m trying to put distance between us. Yeah, because letting him jerk off on your stomach is “distance.”
I’m so fucked.
“Well, good night,” I blurt out, quickly looking away from the longing look in his eyes.
“Good night.” With that, he’s gone, quietly closing the door behind him.
After rinsing his stickiness off my body, I settle into his bed and pull the sheets up to my chin. Though I got the orgasm I was in such desperate need of, an emptiness settles in my soul. Fear forbids me from finding out what it means.