Chapter 17
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
Rain pelted them on the way to the house, but the full-face helmets kept them pain-free from the stinging bullets. Sabrina’s hair was a tangled mess as she didn’t bother to braid it, just stuffed the wet mass into the padding before they took off from the cemetery.
They only made it as far as the front door before she made the first move, jumping into Cam’s arms and kissing him long and hard. A trail of water and sopping-wet clothes tracked through the house, marking their journey to his bedroom, starting with shoes and socks dropped at the door.
Cam jerked his shirt over his head and left it at the bottom of the staircase.
The phone call with Tammie disappeared from his mind as his focus centered completely on Sabrina.
Her body, her needs, and her demands. She pulled her own shirt over her head, taking the sports bra with it.
Her freed breasts teased him with their tight mauve nipples, and his dick flared to life.
“We need to slow down, babe.”
She turned and sprinted up the steps, shucking off her jeans and throwing them over the railing as she moved. “I want this, sugar. Have no doubt about it.” His eyes zeroed in on her bouncing ass as she ran.
Piece after piece of clothing dropped, so by the time they hit the bed, they were both naked and on each other in a frenzy.
Cam kissed her wildly with a hunger that she matched move for move.
His fantasies about how their first time would go blew up in his face.
He thought he would be cooking for her, slowly teasing her with a long night of seduction before taking her to bed, and only then sealing the deal after playing with her body and drawing out the pleasure as long as possible.
He quickly discovered she had other plans. She pulled him down, spreading her legs and opening her bare pussy to him. Her hands were everywhere on his body as he hovered over her, supporting himself on his elbows while he tried to slow down.
“Let me get you ready, baby,” he panted as she clutched at his back to pull him close.
“I am ready,” she breathed in a husky, needy voice. She wrapped her thighs around his hips and gyrated her core against him as proof.
His dick hung heavy between his legs and brushed against her wetness. “I want to take you slow. Make it good.”
“Do slow later. I need you now.” She followed her order by tightening the grip of her legs around him.
Her heat burned against his hard flesh. “You want this, you got it.” He pulled himself slightly up, losing contact for a moment.
She made a thin sound as she watched him reach for his nightstand. “What are you doing?”
“Condom.” His voice was gruff as he tore open the plastic square with his teeth and worked his hand between them. “Let me loose for a minute.” He rolled it on with one hand in the fraction of space she allowed him.
“Cam, I don’t want to wait any longer. Take me now!” Her demand couldn’t be any clearer.
He lined himself up and pushed inside her soaked channel. She let out a long, high-pitched moan and clutched at his waist to pull him farther into her. She was tight, wet, and warm, and it was all he could do to keep from coming in three seconds.
Sabrina, of course, showed no compunction to restrain herself. She writhed against him, lifting and grinding her hips until, with a keening cry, she came. Feeling her pulse around him was more than he could take, and his own voice joined hers a few moments later.
It was faster than he’d ever climaxed in his life.
It was harder than he’d ever come before.
It was a deeper satisfaction than he’d ever experienced.
He hoped with every molecule of his soul that she felt the same. If not, he would do his absolute best to make damn sure she did. “Christ, I’m sorry, baby. Too fast. I wanted to—”
She cut him off with a kiss. “That was perfect.” She reached as far down his back and buttocks as she could and grabbed a double handful. “You’re perfect. There’s so much I want to do with you. To you. Not just tonight. Wanna try?”
He’d just come, but his dick was already planning round two. The box of condoms was old, and he forgot how many were in it, but he hoped there were enough left.
“Absolutely, but we’re doing it my way this time.”
Sabrina snuggled under Cam’s arm into his warm side.
She was sore as hell, but the good kind of sore.
After the explosive first round, he showed her exactly what he meant by slow.
Her nipples were still rosy red from his mouth and hands.
When she tried to get him to hurry, he held her hands over her head and kept licking and sucking until she was begging for him to take her again.
“Not yet, baby.”
He’d gone down to spread the folds between her legs and work magic. He teased and held her teetering on the edge of coming over and over.
“Not yet, baby.”
His fingers slid through her wetness inside her, delving and exploring.
“Not yet, baby.”
He pulled those digits out, coated with her juices, and reached farther back, touching a part of her no man had ever touched before. Pressing, asking for entrance.
“Not yet, baby.”
There was a slight burning as he breached her there. One that ignited all her senses and centered her focus on one thing only: him.
“Now.”
Twice more he made her come, once with his mouth and then with his body.
One climax was so intense she actually bit him on the shoulder.
Had she ever let anyone have this much control over her?
Allowed this level of intimacy? Yes, she’d had encounters in the past, but not on this level.
Whatever bond she’d developed with him had gained strength in the short time she’d known him.
Her trust was practically nonexistent with people in general, but with Cam, there were no limits and no taboos.
Mind-blowing possibilities existed that she’d never thought would be a part of her life.
It was scary as hell, but at the same time, she couldn’t wait for whatever came next.
She stirred against him, and his arm squeezed around her. “You doin’ okay, sweetheart?”
She nuzzled into his neck and paused to examine the teeth marks she’d left. “Damn, I’m sorry, sugar.”
He chuckled. “I’m not. I’m thinking that’s my new goal: to make you come so hard, you’ll bite me every time.”
A predatory smile curled up on her lips. “Maybe I’ll pull a reverse and make you come that hard.”
“Challenge accepted.” He jackknifed up, and she got a prime view of his back tattoo. “You hungry?”
“Are you cooking?”
He grinned. “Yeah, I got stuff I can make in the fridge.”
“Then I’m hungry.”
He slipped on a pair of old gray sweatpants but left his shirt off. “I’ll go down and get started. Feel free to explore.”
“Mind if I grab one of your T-shirts?”
“Help yourself.”
She snagged one with a faded Steelers logo on it and followed him downstairs to the main floor.
Sabrina liked his house. This suburb was nice and clean, and on the outskirts of where Attic and all the messy stuff took place.
Just like its neighbors, the house was tall and long and sat on a hill.
Steps were required to enter the main floor from the front or the back where they usually came in, with a kitchen that opened into a large living space.
The second level was a loft that had two smaller bedrooms on either side that were currently filled with boxes of stuff and other junk that every household had but never got rid of.
The master was the best part—a third-level converted attic that ran the entire length of the house and sported a bay window that had a nice view of the river in the distance.
As they descended the iron spiral staircase, they picked up the clothing items they’d discarded on the way up.
“You want to dump these in the dryer or start a wash load?” He pointed with a fistful of her bra and panties. “There’s a basket in there already that’s pretty full.”
“Washing sounds better.”
She carried the wet clothing to the mudroom and dumped it into the machine.
Her face broke into a smile when she spotted the basket was a mix of both of their items. She glanced out the back-door window where a two-bay detached garage sat.
The yard was big and enclosed by a tall privacy fence.
Her van was parked on the gravel-filled pad next to the garage.
Sabrina’s eyes darted to the space between the house and the vehicle. “Think I can dash over to my place and grab some more of my clothes?”
“I’ll get them for you after we eat, yeah?”
He’d pulled a couple of chicken breasts in a brown spicy marinade along with several bags of salad vegetables from the fridge and piled them on the dark gray granite counter.
“Did you do all the renovations here yourself? Did you pick out the furniture?” she asked, seating herself across from him as he worked.
He poured two cups of water into a pot, set it on a burner, and clicked on the gas. “Yeah. Did the floors too. And the painting.”
The shine from the pretty gray-and-tan grain blended with the pale gray-blue of the walls. One color throughout the main floor and loft. The spare bedrooms were different, one green and one a pale rose. “That’s impressive. I’m surprised a rental would let you do that.”
“I own it.”
“Really? Why didn’t I know this already?”
He dumped a cup of rice into the heating water and stirred it.
“Yup. My foster parents left it to us boys, and I bought out the others to keep it. Kyle and Morgan are older than me and moved out years before I did. They have their own places and lives. Tammie—” He hesitated, like he needed to force himself to say the words. “Tammie wasn’t interested.”
He pulled out a cutting board and placed a head of broccoli on it. The knife in his hand had a gray-and-black blade of layered metals in a pretty crisscross pattern. The striking sheen contrasted with the pale wood handle. It fit Cam’s hand as if it was made for him. Hell, it probably was.
“Is that one of your blades?” she asked, snagging a green floret.
He smiled and tossed one into his mouth as well.
“Yeah, I made this one. One of my first attempts at a Damascus wave.” He set the prepped broccoli in a cooking dish and cut up more veggies with the pretty knife.
The sharp edge slid through a green pepper like it was butter.
He held the blade up to the light to show its intricacies better.
“Turned out nice, and I decided to keep this one for myself. I think it’s a lot like me. ”
“What do you mean?”
“To get this effect, I had to cut thin layers of high-carbon and low-carbon steel. I also added some nickel alloys for a better contrast. Built them up and forged them together. Slow heat, borax flux, and a lot of hammering once the metal got to temperature. Then I had to cut it, fold it in half, and start the process again and again until I made a couple hundred or so layers. It takes a lot of time to form a usable billet.”
He finished with the green pepper and started on a red one. “I think our lives are built on layers like this. We have our high times, and we have our low times. Eventually, it all comes together to create who we are.”
She picked up one of the pepper slices and crunched it between her front teeth. The crisp flavor filled her mouth. “Interesting analogy.”
He smiled and sprayed a large skillet with oil.
“There’s a lot more to it. Forming a blade means heating and hammering, reheating and more hammering, but”—he held up a pointer finger—“you have to be careful. Too much heat or hammering and the blade might shatter. Not enough heat on the initial billet and the layers can come apart. It’s tricky and takes patience.
I don’t think people have that anymore.”
Sabrina let out a short hum. “I can agree with that.”
The chicken sizzled as he added it to the pan. He lowered the temperature on the rice and put a lid on the pot. “Finishing involves grinding away all the parts that aren’t needed and sharpening the edge to uniform perfection. Again, this takes time and attention to detail.”
The cooking meat had a spicy aroma. He put the chopped broccoli in the microwave to steam while he took out a head of lettuce from the fridge. “The blade has to be hardened. That means one more round of heating to temperature and oil-quenching to make it flexible, but solid and unbreakable.”
He raised the lettuce high in the air and slammed the bottom onto the counter. Sabrina jumped at the sudden movement and stared when he turned over the green head and easily pulled out the core. “That’s pretty nifty.”
“Work smarter, not harder, right?” He picked up the knife again and sliced the head in half. “I learned that bit from my foster mom. She’s the one who taught us how to cook.”
“You mentioned Kyle, Morgan, and Tammie.”
He nodded and expertly diced the lettuce.
“Cecil and Vera couldn’t have kids, so they chose to raise other people’s children.
We were the last ones they took on because of their age.
Vera became my mom, and Cecil became my dad.
I was nine years old when I met Vera. She brought me cookies and explained her rules and what she would do for me.
I left the children’s home at four forty in the afternoon and went home with her. ”
Sabrina made the connection immediately. “The time on your tattoo.”
One corner of Cam’s mouth shifted up. “Yeah. I didn’t know it then, but that’s when my life started.
Cecil and Vera treated me like a person.
I had a place and a routine and people who loved and supported me.
” He nodded at the dining alcove. “There used to be a big table over there. We did homework there every night. All of us. They both sat with us to help. Dinner. Board games. Family talks.” He smiled.
“Yeah, they called us family. I have a lot of good memories from that table. That was the one piece of furniture Morgan wanted. Since I got the house, I figured it was fair.”
Sabrina’s heart cracked at the poignant words coming from the man who grew up here. “I think Ernie did the same for me. I don’t know when he started doubting he was my real father, but he never treated me as less than his daughter. Kids need assurance, right?”
Cam nodded as he stirred the cooked rice and dumped it into a bowl. “I guess that’s why I like working with metal so much. If you forge steel the right way, it holds its edge and stays stable for a lifetime.”
He clicked off the burners and raised his eyes to hers. Sabrina’s breath caught at what reflected in them.
“I really want to see what we’re going to forge together. We’ve come to that point where there’s no going back and you’ll stay here with me.”
“I understand.”
“Are you sure? You’ll stay here with me.”
Sabrina got it completely. Cam would become her man, her anchor, her family—permanently. She would put down roots in this community and make a home she wouldn’t have to leave.
“I’m ready.”