Chapter 16 #3
I nearly came undone at the first touch of his tongue against my clit. He licked and sucked, drawing out a cry from me as pleasure coursed through my body. His fingers joined the dance, sliding inside me, curling and stroking in a rhythm that matched the movements of his tongue.
Oh my god.
The sensation was overwhelming, and I found myself gripping the sheets, my hips lifting off the bed as I chased the promise of release. But just as I was about to explode, he pulled back, his mouth moving back to my breasts. I groaned in frustration, my body arching towards him, begging for more.
"Cam, please don't stop. I'm almost..."
He chuckled, the sound muffled against my skin. "Not yet, Cupcake Queen," he whispered, his hands, and more importantly, his tongue, moving back to my nipples, pinching and teasing them until I was a writhing mess of need.
"Cam, please," I begged, my voice ragged with desire. "I need you..."
His tongue flicked at my nipples, driving me wild with anticipation. "Say that again."
"I need you."
"That's more like it," he said, obligingly, slowly moving his mouth back down to my pussy.
This time, he took his sweet time, licking and sucking in long, drawn-out strokes that had me clawing at the sheets.
He relished that I was on the edge and completely under his control.
He bit down gently on my clit, the pleasure-pain sending shockwaves through my body.
I felt like I was losing my mind, the heat building and building until I was sure I would combust.
"Please..." I pleaded, every nerve on fire.
And then, finally, he gave me what I was begging for.
He slid two fingers back inside me, curling them in just the right way as his mouth worked magic on my clit.
The pressure built and built and built until it was too much, and I shattered, my orgasm exploding through me like a supernova.
I cried out his name, my body convulsing with the force of my release.
As I came down from the high, Cam moved back up my body, his eyes never leaving mine. He kissed me softly, letting me taste myself on his lips. "I adore you," he whispered, his voice filled with awe and satisfaction. "You’re beautiful. A goddess."
"And you're some kind of sex god," I laughed. "Holy smokes." My body still trembled with the aftershocks of my orgasm. I had never felt so completely worshiped, so utterly consumed by pleasure. No one had ever made me feel like he did. Only Cam. Always Cam.
Spent, I nuzzled his neck, slowly making my way to his lips. We snuggled in the afterglow as I panted to catch my breath. Every brief shift or movement hit me with more aftershocks.
"So,” I said sweetly. “Can I suck your cock?"
Cam let out a low groan, his eyes darkening with desire. "You have no idea how many of my smuttiest dreams have started with you saying that," he laughed softly, but there was a raw edge to his voice that made my heart beat faster.
I trailed kisses down his chest, exploring every ridge and valley of his muscles with my lips and tongue.
His skin was warm and smooth under my touch, the masculine scent of him – sex and salt and fucking unfiltered, Grade A virility – making my head spin.
I could feel his heart pounding beneath my fingertips as I kissed down his stomach, tracing the lines of his abs before gripping his cock firmly.
His cock was like granite after someone had left a hot pan on it.
It throbbed in my hand, warm to the touch.
He inhaled sharply, his hips tightening in response to my touch.
I looked up at him, meeting his gaze as I began to stroke him slowly, marveling at the way his body responded to mine.
His eyes were hooded, his lips parted, and every muscle in his body seemed to tense with anticipation.
Leaning down, I flicked my tongue against the head of his cock, tasting the salty bead of precome that had gathered there. He let out a strangled groan, his hands fisting the sheets as I took him into my mouth, swirling my tongue around his head before taking him deeper.
His breath came in ragged gasps as I worked him with my mouth and hand, the sounds of his pleasure spurring me on.
It seemed impossible, but I could feel him getting even harder, his body coiling with tension as I brought him closer and closer to the edge.
His fingers threaded through my hair, guiding me gently, the touch both controlling and tender.
"Fuck, Lana," he growled, his voice rough with need. "You're going to make me come."
I hummed around him, the vibrations making him buck his hips upward. His grip on my hair tightened, and I could feel the pulse of his cock against my tongue. He was so close, his entire body trembling with the effort to hold back.
"Stop," he rasped, gently pulling me away. "I want to be inside you when I come."
I released him with a soft pop, watching as he caught his breath, his chest heaving with each inhale.
As I kissed my way back up to his face, he slid an arm under me, reversing our positions in one smooth motion.
Suddenly, he was on top of me, his strong body pressing me into the mattress.
The weight of him on top of me was absolutely fucking delicious.
Our mouths met in a fierce kiss, the taste of him still lingering on my lips. The taste of me still lingering on his. His hands roamed over my body, caressing every curve and dip, making me gasp with pleasure.
He broke the kiss, trailing his lips down my neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there. I arched into him, my body aching with desire, every nerve ending alive and sparking with anticipation.
"Please, Cam," I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath.
He looked down at me, his eyes filled with an intensity that stole my breath away. Without a word, he shifted his hips, his cock brushing against my entrance. I ached with need, my body opening up for him, yearning for the connection.
And then he was inside me, filling me completely. I gasped at the sensation, my eyes fluttering closed as waves of pleasure washed over me. He began to move, slow at first, then faster, each thrust sending waves of ecstasy through my body.
"Okay?" he whispered, his control visibly tenuous.
"More than okay," I breathed, wrapping my legs around his waist to draw him deeper. "Don't stop."
What followed was unlike anything I'd experienced before.
It wasn't just the physical pleasure – though that was undeniable, Cam's athletic body moving with a precision and strength that left me breathless.
It was the connection between us, the way he watched my face as if memorizing every expression, the way he seemed to know exactly what I needed before I did.
Our breaths mingled, our bodies slick with sweat, as we moved together, lost in the rhythm of our lovemaking. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word felt deeper and more profound than anything I'd ever experienced.
As the pleasure built inside me again, I clung to him, my nails digging into his back, my legs tightening around his waist. When I finally exploded beneath him, crying out his name, he followed soon after, his face buried in my neck, his body tensing as he spilled into me, my name a ragged chant.
We clung to each other, our bodies trembling with our release, our breath uneven and raw.
When the world finally came back into focus, I opened my eyes to find Cam looking down at me, a tender smile on his lips. He brushed a strand of hair from my face, his thumb tracing the curve of my cheek.
"I've wanted this for so long," he whispered against my ear, his lips brushing against mine with each word. "You. I've wanted you. Only you."
The admission was gasoline thrown on kindling.
Every part of me ached to be closer to him.
I pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, seeing the raw desire in his eyes.
There was no pretense now, or carefully crafted images.
Just the two of us, stripped bare and exposed in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating.
We lay entwined, our bodies slick with sweat, our breaths coming in ragged gasps. His hand found mine, his fingers interlacing with mine as if to say, Here. I have you. I'm not letting go.
"This is my favorite outfit on you," he teased.
"Oh, naked?" I laughed. "You just want me to run around all day naked as a jaybird?"
"Not all day, " he teased, bringing my hand to his lips. "You're not naked, you're wearing this." He lightly kissed the sapphire ring before curling my hand and his against his heart.
"Well," I said, "the engagement may be fake, but the orgasms definitely aren't. Cam Murphy, you put the dirty in dirty blond." He laughed, a deep rumbling laugh, and buried his face in my hair.
As we lay tangled together, my head on his chest, I listened to his heartbeat gradually slow. His fingers moved in their usual lazy patterns on my bare back. I felt more content, more at peace, than I could remember feeling in years.
"That was..." I began, then trailed off, unable to find adequate words.
"Yeah," he agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "It really was." He leaned in, his forehead touching mine, his breath mingling with mine in a dance as intimate as any we'd shared. "I don't want to lose this," he whispered. "I don't want to lose you."
My heart swelled with emotion, the words a balm to the wounds of the past, to the fears that had haunted me for so long. "I don't want to lose you either," I said, my voice barely more than a whisper.
Moonlight bounced off the bay and streamed through the large windows casting long shadows across the decimated bed.
For the first time as I looked around the masculine, tastefully decorated suite, I noticed the photos on the walls – not family portraits, but images of Cam and his teammates, snapshots of a life lived on and off the ice.
There was a picture of him and Zayne in their college days, arms slung around each other, grinning widely.
One of Cam and Coach Rocco goofing around at a charity golf game.
Another showed the entire Slashers team celebrating their Stanley Cup win, Cam and Logan front and center, holding the trophy high.
But it was the photo of Cam with my father that caught my eye.
It was a candid shot, probably taken during a practice session back at Boston University.
My dad was standing on the ice, arms crossed, deep in conversation with Cam and Zayne.
The three of them looked so serious, so focused, so.
.. right. Like they belonged together. Like they were family.
The realization hit me like a slapshot. This was Cam's family – not blood relations or step-parents, but the team, the players, the coaches. The people who had been there for him, who had supported him, who had made him the man he was today.
We lay in comfortable silence for a while, just breathing together, skin to skin. I traced the tattoo on his ribs – a small, simple design I'd never noticed in team photos.
"What does it mean?" I asked, fingertips outlining the geometric pattern.
He was quiet for a moment. "It's a Norse protection symbol. I got it after my first really bad concussion my rookie year. The doctors weren't sure if I'd play again."
I raised my head to look at him, surprised. "I didn't know it was that serious."
"Not many people did." His fingers continued their gentle exploration of my back. "I was terrified. Hockey was... everything. The thought of losing it..." He shook his head slightly. "Anyway, I got the tattoo as a kind of talisman. Stupid, maybe, but it helped."
"It's not stupid," I said softly, pressing my lips to the symbol. "We all need something to believe in. Also, it's kinda hot."
He laughed as his arms tightened around me. "What do you believe in, Lana?"
The question caught me off guard. "I believe in hard work," I said after a moment. "In family. In the game." I hesitated, then added quietly, "I'm still working on believing in myself sometimes."
He shifted, rolling us so we were face to face on the pillow, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. "You should. You're extraordinary."
The sincerity in his eyes made my throat tight. "Cam..." I kissed him, pouring everything I felt but couldn't yet say into it. He responded immediately, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me flush against him once more.
This time was different – slower, deeper, more deliberate.
Where our first encounter had been about finally giving in to years of pent-up desire, this was about connection, about seeing and being seen.
His hands mapped my body with reverent attention, his eyes never leaving mine as we moved together.
When we finally lay spent in each other's arms again, the night had deepened around us. Cam pulled the covers over us, tucking me against his side, his arm a comforting weight around my shoulders.
"Stay," he murmured against my hair, his voice thick with approaching sleep. "Stay with me tonight."
I nodded, already drifting off, feeling safer and more content than I had in years. "I'm not going anywhere," I whispered back, meaning it more than he knew.
As sleep claimed me, my last conscious thought was that this, being held in Cam's arms, feeling his heartbeat steady beneath my cheek, felt like coming home. And once again, I allowed myself to hope that maybe, just maybe, I could have this. Have him. For real.
And so we lay there, in the quiet of the night, our bodies tangled together, our hearts beating in sync. The world outside could wait. For now, we were enough. We were everything.