Chapter 27
CAMDEN
After our win in Chicago, I’m riding high, the entire team celebrating our near-perfect record this season. We’re in position to carry this momentum through to clinch the division title. Made all the better knowing I have Nadine in my corner.
And in my bed.
It’s almost three in the morning, and she’s asleep, on my side of the bed, a small lump under the covers.
I don’t bother with the lights, tiptoeing to the mattress, and when my eyes adjust to the darkness, I think she’s wearing my jersey.
The outline of my number has a sheen, and when I reach for it, lightly pinching the fabric between my fingers, my guess is proven correct.
My already-excited cock becomes ramrod straight in my pants, and I quietly strip naked then grab the bottle of lube from the nightstand, hoping I don’t wake her.
Not yet.
Because this is what I’ve been waiting for. What I know she’s allowing me to take.
Carefully, I pull back the comforter and climb on the bed, wrapping around her body from behind. I roam my hand over her hip, realizing she’s not wearing any underwear.
She really is perfect.
Permitting me to live out my fantasy.
Her fantasy.
Her breathing doesn’t change as I gently skate my fingers over her, my pulse hammering in my ears. The bedroom is silent, but my heart is beating so hard, I’m not sure how it’s not waking her up. If not with the sound, then how it must be banging around against her back.
She stays asleep, her inhales and exhales steady and even.
I slick the lube over the length of my erection and then rub some on her bare pussy.
That makes her move, a brief tensing of her muscles, but when she doesn’t wake, I lift her top leg and let my cock sink into her entrance.
It’s a smooth glide all the way to the hilt, and Nadine finally wakes with a sharp breath.
“Cam?” Her voice is a whisper of a scratch.
“Yeah, honey, I’m home,” I say against her pulse.
She moans sleepily, arching her spine while draping her arm back and around my neck, fingers in my hair. Neither of us speaks again as I lazily pull halfway out and push back in while I kiss her ear, temple, jaw, any place I can lay claim.
“You can go back to sleep,” I tell her after a minute, and I feel more than see her smile.
“Not like this, I can’t.”
“Maybe I won’t finish. I’ll just stay inside you, and then we can both sleep.”
Her fingers tighten in my hair at the nape of my neck, as if she likes that idea, and I roll my hips, keeping this slow pace. There is no rush. Not when she’s sleepy and warm, barely awake.
Being with her, like this, feels drugging. Being pulled under. I don’t have that natural inclination to fuck her hard like usual. Simply stay like this, coiled around her, not even a centimeter of space between us, buried so deep inside her, there is no way to know where she ends and I begin.
I keep my right hand on her thigh, slipping the other under my jersey to hold her breast, doing no more than lightly squeezing it, completely uninterested in bringing this quiet joining to a quick end. I want it to go on forever.
Like a dream.
She is my dream.
But then she rocks her hips, bringing us deeper together, and I groan into her neck. “I want to go slow.”
She agrees with a hum but continues to move her hips in maddening circles.
“River,” I chide, dragging my teeth over her ear.
“Hm?”
“Don’t play innocent.”
She turns her head, lips finding mine. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She kisses away my amusement, pulling me closer, dragging me down further into the depths of pleasure with her until I can’t control the rhythm anymore. I swallow her sighs, hitch her leg higher, push her toward the mattress until I’m on top of her.
“Cam,” she groans, cheek against the bed, hands held out at her sides, bound by mine, our fingers intertwined, so she is completely at my mercy. “I’m so close.”
I grind against her, hitting the spot that makes her mindlessly beg. It’s a tight fit with me caging her in, but I snake my arm between her torso and the mattress, finding her clit with my fingers, and she hisses. “Yes, Camden. Please. Don’t stop.”
I don’t. I keep that steady pace, feeling her climb higher, body tensing. Her breaths become shallow pants, her hips uselessly attempting to move, to meet my movements. But I’m too heavy and have her trapped.
“Just take it,” I rasp, and a moment later, I feel her clamp down on my cock, a vise grip that almost sends me over the edge, but I hold on as she gives in to her orgasm, going completely rigid and then lifeless as she relaxes.
But I refuse to stop moving inside her, even though my balls are drawn up tight, the base of my spine tingling. I refuse to chase my climax, even though she whispers for me to come.
I hate how desperate, how needy, she makes me feel.
Because I know I’ll never get enough.
Fifteen lifetimes with her wouldn’t be enough. Not even fifteen thousand.
“Never want this to end,” I growl, settling my weight onto my forearms, on either side of her, a shudder rolling through me.
But I can’t hold out much longer, her sweet sighs too much to ignore, and I let myself have a few more shallow pumps into her before giving in, against my will to never let this stop.
With her body slack under mine, I’m careful not to crush her as I lie on top of her for a moment, waiting until the last aftershocks of my orgasm dispel.
“I can’t sleep like this, if that’s what you’re planning,” she mumbles into the mattress, and I skim my hand along her side.
“So much attitude for the middle of the night.”
“That’s what you get for waking me up.”
I turn us both to our sides, staying inside her. “You didn’t seem to mind.”
She snuggles into me, wrapping my arm around her waist. “I’m glad you’re home.”
Me too. Glad to be back with her. My home.
A minute has passed when I think she’s fallen back to sleep, but she yawns and says, “You played a good game. Thanks for the shout-out in your touchdown celebration.”
“I’m glad you saw it.” I make myself comfortable, my thighs tucked behind hers, her ass right up against my groin, my cock still deep inside her. We’ll have a mess to clean up tomorrow, but I’m too blissed out to care right now.
“So?” she asks, fixing the pillow under her head. “How was it? Reality live up to the fantasy of doing that?”
I kiss the back of her head. “Better. Because you are my fantasy, and you’re real. Here with me.”
“I’ll always be here with you.” She brings our clasped hands up to her mouth so she can lay a quick kiss on the back of mine, and the innocent gesture is so heartbreakingly sweet, my eyes and nose sting with emotion.
The reflexive action is a display of how she loves me, of how easily she takes care of me, of how it’s so natural, she doesn’t think about it.
It’s all so simple.
That in the dead of night, she’s gone and stolen my heart right out of my chest.
The next morning, I shoot up in bed at the sound of screaming. My alarm blared at seven a.m. so I could wake up to take Paisley to school, but Nadine powered it off and told me to sleep. I didn’t put up much of a fight. I couldn’t.
Not only because I’d barely had four hours, but because when my woman wants to take care of me, I let her. If she wanted to tuck me in and kiss my forehead, I’d never stop her.
But at the sound of her being tortured, I leap out of bed and run into the living room, where I find her blurry figure standing on the couch. “What’s going on?”
Without my glasses or contacts, I have to squint to see her tip her head back to laugh at me. “You’re naked.”
“And you’re screaming.”
“Because there’s one of those thousand-leggers on the floor, and it scared me.”
“Well, kill it,” I say, stepping toward her, but she jumps from the couch onto me like a wild cat in a tree, clinging to me.
“I can’t kill it. They freak me out. Anything with multiple legs.” She makes a gagging sound, wrapping her arms and legs around me, so she’s piggyback. “Can you kill it?”
“I can’t kill anything with my dick hanging out.”
“Put pants on and then kill it.”
I try to shake her off, but she refuses to let go, so I heave a sigh and head back to our bedroom, where I pull on a pair of sweats and put my glasses on before brushing my teeth. All with her on my back like a sloth. Smiling cutely. Like it’s a totally normal thing to do.
“You’re strong,” she says when I hike her up a bit higher as I shuffle back to the living room and snatch a few tissues from a box, freezing in place to see where the centipede got to, ready to crush it.
I stay in a half squat, eyes on it as it scurries across the floor toward one of the windows.
I pounce and squash the thing, which earns me a smacking kiss and another compliment. “Fast too.”
“Maybe I’ll add it to my bio: strong, fast, killer of centipedes.” I tap her thigh, assuming she’ll get down, but she doesn’t. Instead, she rests her chin on my head.
“How long you think you can do this for? It’s been about five minutes. You think ten? Twenty?”
“Pfft. Easy.”
“Thirty minutes.”
“Honey.” I angle my head back. “You know how much I squat? Over four hundred pounds. I could go all day with you like this.”
“You think too highly of yourself. I bet you couldn’t even last an hour with me on your back.”
I deposit the tissues and dead bug in the trash can. “Yeah? How much?”
She thinks on it for a few seconds. “Seeing as how you have all the money in this relationship. If I win, you Venmo me one thousand dollars.”
“Chump change,” I say, knowing it’ll make her roll her eyes. Which it does, and I laugh. “And if I win?”
“You won’t, but okay… If you win, you can name your prize.”
I rub my hands together in my best impression of an evil villain. “Ooh. It’s going to be something with sex.”
“You’re so predictable.”
I smack the side of her ass cheek. “Maybe it’ll be to gag you, so you’re finally quiet.”
She nips my ear. “You’d hate that.”
And it’s true. I would hate it. One of the things I love most about her is her smart mouth.
Although I do like the idea of stuffing it full. “A blow job.”
“That’s it?”
I shrug. “Yeah, but you let me come on your face.”
She actually harrumphs.
“If you’re afraid…”
“Fine, fine,” she agrees. “But not by my eyes, you deviant.”
“Agreed.”
We high-five, and she sets the rules. “One hour. With me on your back. You lose if you sit down or fall down.”
I’m offended. “I’m not going to fall down.”
“If you say so, tough guy.”
I make it exactly fifty-four minutes before I literally cannot take it anymore and fall backward onto the couch in the living room.
She laughs in glee, calling me a scrawny weakling.
So after I’m able to stretch out my back, I haul her over my shoulder and show her exactly how weak I am by fucking her until she screams my name.
Then I open a bank account under her name and deposit a few thousand dollars in it. Knowing it’s just the start. Eventually, she’ll own everything I do.
When I inform her of this a few hours later, she gives me that blow job and lets me finish on her face.
Like the deviant I am.