Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Cami
By the time the last student left at nine-thirty, I felt like I’d been wrung out and hung up to dry. Every muscle ached, my head was spinning, and I was pretty sure I’d absorbed the emotional energy of every single person in that room today.
Majesty appeared at my elbow, his hand warm and steady. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”
Lex was still in the teaching space, breaking down equipment. He looked up as we passed, concern flickering across his face.
“I’ve got her,” Majesty said quietly, and Lex nodded.
I didn’t have the energy to argue. I just nodded and let him guide me toward the cabin and upstairs, grateful when he tucked me against his side for support. My legs felt like jelly, and each step was an effort.
By the time we reached my door, I was practically leaning all my weight against Majesty. He opened the door and guided me inside, and I immediately sank onto the edge of my bed with a grateful sigh.
“I’m so tired,” I mumbled. “I don’t even know why. We were just talking all day.”
“Emotional labor is still labor.” He crouched down in front of me, his hands resting on my knees. “Your brain and heart worked overtime today. Of course you’re exhausted.”
I looked down at him, at the genuine concern in his eyes, and felt something warm bloom in my chest. “I need a shower. I feel like I’m covered in the energy of the entire class.”
“Go ahead. Take your time. I’ll be here when you’re done.”
I blinked at him. “You don’t have to stay.” But I wanted him to.
“I know.” He reached up and cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing across my skin in a way that made my breath hitch. “I want to. Unless you’d rather be alone?”
“No.” The word came out too quickly, almost desperate. “Please stay.”
“Then I’m staying.”
Relief flooded through me. I gathered my things and headed to the bathroom, my hands shaking slightly as I turned on the water. The shower was exactly what I needed. Hot water pounding against my sore muscles, steam filling my lungs, the scent of my bodywash grounding me back in my body.
I stayed under the spray longer than necessary, trying to organize my thoughts. Today had been intense. Being the focus of both men during that demonstration, feeling their hands on me, their complete attention... it had awakened something in me that I wasn’t sure how to handle.
When I finally emerged, wrapped in my robe with my hair damp and my skin flushed, Majesty was sitting in the chair by my bed. Waiting. The sight of him there, patient and solid, made my heart skip.
“Better?” he asked.
“Much.” I moved toward my dresser, reaching for the lotion I usually used after showers, but he stood and intercepted me.
“Let me,” he said, picking up both the lotion and the small bottle of massage oil I kept beside it.
My hand froze. “What?”
“You took care of a room full of people today. Let me take care of you.” He held up the bottles. “Lie down on your stomach. Let me work out some of this tension.”
Heat crept up my neck. “Majesty, you don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t have to. I want to.” He waited, and I could see in his eyes that he meant it. That this wasn’t obligation. This was desire.
After a moment, I nodded and moved to the bed. I lay down on my stomach, the robe still wrapped around me, hyperaware of his presence behind me.
“This is going to work better if the robe comes off,” he said carefully. “But only if you’re comfortable with that.”
My heart started pounding. I should say no. Should keep this professional. Should maintain some kind of boundary.
But I didn’t want to.
I reached beneath me and undid the tie. “Okay.”
“I’m going to move it aside. Tell me if you want me to stop.”
“I trust you.” The words came out before I could think about them, but they were true. I did trust him.
I heard him warming the oil between his palms, and then his hands were on my shoulders. I tensed immediately, my body not sure what to expect.
“Breathe,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “I’ve got you.”
I exhaled slowly, and then his thumbs found a knot of tension and pressed. Pain and relief flooded through me simultaneously, and I made a sound I couldn’t control.
“Too much?” he asked.
“No. It’s perfect. Don’t stop.”
He didn’t. His hands moved methodically, working down my spine, finding every tight muscle and coaxing it to release. I felt myself melting into the mattress, small sounds escaping me that I probably should have been embarrassed about but couldn’t find the energy within myself to care.
“How did you learn to do this?” I asked, my voice muffled against my arms.
“Took a course years ago. Figured if I was going to be doing intense scenes with people, I should know how to help them come down after.” His hands moved to my lower back, and I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning.
“Plus, there’s something intimate about it.
Taking care of someone when they’re vulnerable. ”
“It feels amazing.”
“Good.” His hands slid lower, working my hips, and I felt the robe slip further down. I should have cared. Should have been modest. But his touch felt too good to worry about it. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“How did it feel tonight? During the demonstration?”
The question made me tense again, and his hands immediately soothed the tension away with gentle strokes.
“It felt like I belonged to both of you,” I admitted, the words coming easier in the darkness with my face hidden. “Like I was yours—and Lex’s—in a way that didn’t require me to choose between you.”
His hands stilled for a moment. “Did that scare you?”
“A little. But in a good way. Like standing at the edge of something big and knowing you’re about to jump.”
“Are you going to jump?” His hands resumed their movement, working down my thighs now.
“I think I already have.”
When he reached my feet, I couldn’t hold back the moan. His thumbs worked into the arch, and pleasure shot straight up my spine.
“Oh my god, that’s unfair.”
I could hear the smile in his voice. “What’s unfair about it?”
“You’re making it very hard to think clearly when you touch me like that.”
“Who says you need to think clearly?”
“Majesty.” His name came out half warning, half plea.
His hands slid back up my body, slow and deliberate, and I felt every inch of skin he touched wake up and pay attention. “Turn over.”
“What?”
“Turn over. I want to do your front.”
My breath caught. That felt different. More vulnerable. On my back, I’d have to look at him. I wouldn’t be able to hide.
“I won’t touch anywhere you don’t want me to,” he promised. “But I think you need to look at me for this part.”
Slowly, my heart pounding, I turned over. I adjusted the robe to loosely drape across my chest and stomach, suddenly very aware of how little it was covering. Our eyes met, and the intensity in his gaze made my mouth go dry.
He warmed more oil and started with my arms. I watched his hands work, strong and sure, and tried to regulate my breathing. But it was impossible when he was touching me like this, looking at me like he wanted to devour me.
“You’re beautiful,” he said quietly. “I don’t think I’ve told you that enough.”
“Thank you.” There was more to say, but I chose not to. The way he looked at me was like he’d meant it. There was no second guessing him or wondering what his agenda was. He’d only meant to tell me his thoughts. Nothing more or less.
His fingers traced along my collarbone, and I shivered despite the warmth of the room. “You are beautiful. Strong and brave and so fucking responsive. Do you have any idea what it does to me, watching you submit to this? To us?”
My breath hitched. The way he said “us,” like it was inevitable. Like him, Lex and I were already a done deal. “Tell me.”
He leaned in closer, his hands still moving across my skin, and the look in his eyes was darker now. Hungry. “It makes me want to claim every inch of you. Mark you in ways that don’t show but that you’ll feel for days. Make you so thoroughly ours that you never doubt who you belong to.”
Heat pooled low in my belly. “Majesty…”
“But I won’t,” he continued, his hands moving lower, skimming the sides of my breasts under the robe before moving to my ribs. The brief contact made me gasp. “Not until you beg me for it. Not until you’re so desperate for us that you can’t think about anything else.”
“That’s cruel.”
“That’s patience.” His hands moved to my stomach, working the muscles there, and I felt the robe slip more. Cool air hit my skin, and I knew he could see more of me now. But I didn’t move to cover myself. “I want you aching for us, Cami. I want you to feel this in your bones, this need to be ours.”
“I already do.” The admission came out breathless.
“Not enough.” His hands drifted to my hips, his thumbs pressing into sensitive hollows that made me arch involuntarily. “Not nearly enough.”
The robe slipped further, exposing the curve of my breast, and I watched his eyes track the movement. He didn’t look away. Didn’t pretend he wasn’t looking. He just stared, possessive and unapologetic.
“You’re staring,” I whispered.
“You’re letting me.” His hands moved to my thighs, and I wanted to spread them, wanted to guide his touch higher, but he deliberately avoided the place that was aching for him. “That’s a gift, Cami. Your trust, your vulnerability. I don’t take that lightly.”
“I know you don’t.”
He worked his way down to my feet again, then back up, taking his time. Each pass of his hands built the anticipation higher. By the time he reached my hips again, I was breathing hard, my skin flushed, need coiling tight in my core.
“All done,” he said, pulling back.
“What?” The word came out almost angry. “But I thought...”
“Thought what?” He knew exactly what I’d thought. I could see it in the slight curve of his mouth.
“Nothing.” I moved to pull the robe closed, suddenly embarrassed by how much I’d wanted him to keep going. To touch me where I was wet and aching.