Chapter 15 Cam
fifteen
cam
Two things were going my way today:
I hadn’t opened my mouth again about anything that could compromise my stability as a worker in Saúl’s family’s sanctuary, either. Or asked anything else that would make me the most hated person by HR if we had anything like a department of human resources.
I’d wrinkled my nose when I first learned we didn’t because HR always seemed like a good idea.
Now, I was very glad.
I was also trying to picture what kind of Dom Saúl’s friend was. They were giving each other one of those manly hugs I’d always sucked at because I either tended to linger or felt too uncomfortable because the other person was rather aggressive about it.
So, I was focusing on his existence as a Dom, which obviously tracked.
He had to be the quiet type. Maybe even the kind who wore a suit and made it all about high protocol and respecting the history of kink.
He was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a graphic T-shirt for trans rights, but I could see him rocking a suit.
He had the perfect height for it.
“Cam, right?” Damian looked down at me when he disentangled from Saúl. He had an overgrown mullet that went down his shoulders, and bangs that were actually cared for. “Saúl said you’re the new vet.”
“Yeah.” I swallowed before my nerves overcame this, and I fucked up by letting out nervous laughter because he had to know more about me after Saúl’s offer to— “Thanks for having me here.”
I swallowed again. Shocking absolutely everyone in a five-mile radius, I’d made it this far without thinking too hard about it.
Damian’s playroom.
Saúl’s words.
If I wanted, we could talk about using it. About negotiating a scene, I assumed, even though the words hadn’t been said explicitly.
Damian’s only requirement was watching.
I didn’t mind having a voyeur or two, but that was the wrong thing to focus on.
Unlike with Damian, I couldn’t get a read on the type of Dom Saúl was. I couldn’t tell why that was, either, only that it frustrated the hell out of me. Why couldn’t he fit into any of the stereotypes I was more than familiar with?
I’d teased him about being a mean Daddy, and I guessed he had the elements for it, but I didn’t know.
I didn’t know that I could picture him as a Sadist, either.
I didn’t think he played soft, though. Not after what he’d said about not being able to trust a sub with impact until they’d known each other for longer.
No one who only cared about a soft spanking would say that.
I had a feeling he was the nurturing kind of Sadist that lulled you into a sense of safety, but then you ended up with deep bruises that lasted a month. The one who talked you through it and cooed you into taking more because you were doing so well.
Maybe he was the quiet type, too, though, just like I was assuming Damian was. I could also see him playing the soft music I heard sometimes from his office and setting up a cadence with whatever he was using.
Ugh.
This was really HR-inappropriate.
“A friend of Saúl is a friend of mine.” I sucked in air. Was that a twinkle in his eye? “You look beat on your ass. How about you two unpack, take a shower? I’ll have dinner delivered by then. Any allergies?”
“Um. No.” I remembered to shake my head in case my voice came across too meek. It felt that way. “Thanks.”
“Come on. As you can see, he’s a terrible host.”
At least Saúl made it easy to tell when he was joking, his tone belying the laughter he was hiding.
Would he be the kind of Sadist who turned things into a game? That made it seem fun?
I wrinkled my nose. I liked those deep bruises and all the things that came from a paddle or a flogger or anything else—unlike most, I didn’t have a preference to the kind of impact I enjoyed—but I didn’t like the Sadists that laughed while shit was happening.
“You think too loud,” Saúl said.
He’d insisted on grabbing both of our suitcases, so I was just following him up the stairs to what I assumed were two guest rooms. Or one room with two actual beds.
Sofía had said she used to come with him, so there was no way they’d be sharing.
Unless, of course, he didn’t make this pit stop with his sister.
It would make sense if he was more intimately acquainted with Damian’s playroom than what he’d hinted at.
“Um.” I fidgeted.
“What’s wrong?”
Saúl let his suitcase rest against one of the black wooden doors.
Damian had gone heavy on the gothic feel of this place.
It was all blacks and dark reds and velvets and lace.
Bordering too close on tacky to make me comfortable, but I tried not to focus on something else that would unsettle me. I had my smart moments.
“Where’s the playroom?”
He cocked his head to the side. I supposed it was a fair reaction. I’d already accepted that shit flew out of my mouth and fuck the timing, but it took people a while to fully accept the aftermath of it.
“In the basement,” he said. “Let me take the suitcases to our rooms, and we can talk about it before we shower. There’s a shared en-suite.”
“Oh.” My eyes widened. “You don’t have to wait, I mean, I know you like to shower after being in the truck so long. It’s fine.”
“I don’t want you needing to pop out another Xanax if we’re heading in the direction we are,” Saúl reasoned as if this was the most natural thing to be talking about, “so yeah, I do have to wait.”
A knot built in my throat. No one just waited, put their needs aside, because it would make it easier on me.
“Okay.”
I wondered how the sound carried, if Damian was getting a first-seat row to what a mess I was, but we were soon inside the second room to the right, and Saúl was closing the door behind us.
At least the inside of the guest rooms wasn’t as gaudy. Still a tad dark for my taste, but no signs of velvet or lace or anything creepy other than a few touches of black and red with a couple white accents in the handles of the drawers, and a bed with four wooden posts I could appreciate.
“So.” Saúl rubbed his hands. “Tell me what you want.”
“You’re not going to make me go through my experience first?”
“No.” He shook his head, moving closer to me until his chest hit my back. I could see his fingers curling with an itch to touch I knew all too well, but he kept his hands to his sides. “That goes later.”
Breathe, in and out.
Remembering the basic function shouldn’t be this much of a challenge.
“I don’t know what we can do,” I admitted. “You said you don’t do impact before—”
“We could argue that I already know you quite well,” he said. Now, he moved his hands closer, until he was trailing his fingers up the bare skin in my arms. “But I’m not planning a scene just yet. Just getting a read on you.”
I closed my eyes. My heartbeat slowed down a bit if there was only the touch to focus on, and not the information I was getting from every other sense.
“Um. Right.” I cleared my throat, curling my fingers into fists once, twice, just to have an outlet for the energy coursing through me. “I want to get out of my head. I want to just feel.”
Saúl hummed, and then—
“Good boy.”
And then he had to go and say the magic words, the stupidly simple praise that was everyone’s Kryptonite as far as I was concerned. It couldn’t be just me, could it?
“S-Saúl.”
His fingers splayed over my stomach, pressing without forcing me to lie against his back.
“Turn around, Cam.”
I didn’t know that I could get my feet to work. My knees wobbled.
“I want to suck you off,” I mumbled instead.
I didn’t usually obsess over specific acts or even specific body parts.
Hell, I didn’t usually give a damn about how I pleasured a Dom.
Doms were there to throw me all the way into subspace and get me where I wanted to go.
The fact that they got what they wanted from me was an afterthought at most. Did I enjoy seeing their cum coating me?
Their loss of control when they were deep inside me, and I squeezed around their cock?
Yes, I was human.
But D/s didn’t appeal to me because I wanted to make my partner come like they never had before. It appealed to me because of the way it made me come.
Was that something else that made me selfish?
Most importantly, what the fuck did it mean that I was interested in it now?
“Here, or in the playroom?”
I licked my lips. “Don’t care.”
“Why?”
“Why don’t I care?” I almost broke out in nervous laughter.
Saúl pinched the skin he could reach through the T-shirt I was now regretting picking. I gasped, but the sharp sensation was grounding, the kind that had my senses sharpening.
“What do you get out of sucking me off?”
I drew a blank at the question. For once, it wasn’t the fact that it was him, or that I was on the verge of a panic attack, or even that I lacked the experiences that mattered. I just didn’t know.
Saúl didn’t look like the type to accept a shrug as an answer, though. Information I was saving for later.
“I want to taste you.”
I wanted him to claim me, to belong to him, to be marked. I craved the ownership that came with being around a Dom, with willingly becoming their puppet.
“Yeah?” Saúl raised his hand, moving it from my abdomen to my chest, to the hollow of my neck. “How do you like sucking cock, Cam?”
I whimpered. The slight pressure of his hand, the questions he asked, the way he said my name… It was too much, too much to not blur the edges and make me vibrate with the need to get whatever we were starting started.
“I like to start slow,” I breathed, “at my own pace. But I like it when I get my throat fucked raw and I’m dribbling saliva.”
There was a chance it was wishful thinking, but I’d swear Saúl sucked in a breath. Nothing better than to leave a Dom speechless, to put them in the same position they put us, where up and down stopped making sense, and things became much more animalistic.
Primal.
“Tap my thigh when you’re ready for that switch.”
“Here, then?”
There was a lot more to talk about, but right this minute, I didn’t care.
I’d told myself I was going to be much more careful about following and sticking to PRICK guidelines. Clearly, I was failing.
Maybe tomorrow.
It would be the last stretch of the road trip, and Saúl would be driving, which would give me a lot of time to talk about everything under the sun. Might as well start leaving some topics for the trip instead of only having the traumatic stuff to overshare.
“I told you to turn around, didn’t I?”
This time, I did, coming face to face with his darkened gaze and the scrub on his cheeks that I kept wanting to nuzzle my cheeks against even though I knew it would be prickly and leave a mark. Maybe precisely because of that.
“Sir.”
Saúl tutted right away. He moved his fingers to tuck my chin up. He kept it there when I tried to avoid the force he was applying.
“If you’re going to use an honorific, it’s Daddy or nothing.”
I gulped. “I’ve never called anyone Daddy.”
I’d teased in online forums, but we both knew it wasn’t the same.
“I know.”
He definitely did.