Chapter 22
CAM
Her words should give me pause.
They should make me stop this madness that already seems to have engulfed us.
Because I know she means them.
I know that deep down, she will never stop hating me and won’t ever be able to forgive me for any of this—just like I know I won’t ever be able to forgive myself.
But if anything, her promise does the opposite.
Almost as if it gives me permission to do the one thing I swore I wouldn’t, the very thing Dale warned me would happen if I continued to place myself in her orbit.
My cock throbs where it’s pinned beneath her wet core, and my hands flex into her lush thighs.
Heat licks across every inch of me, tightening my skin until it feels like it might burst open.
The tension permeating my body makes me tremble beneath her, and she pulls her head back and looks at me, the plea written there in her gaze.
Let her hate you tomorrow.
She needs you to love her tonight.
No matter what happened between us in the past, no matter what I may have done and how I may have hurt her, no matter how bad this might be for me in the end, this is what she needs, and with her looking at me like this—like she absolutely does not hate me—it’s impossible for me to say no even if it might be the right thing to do.
And I can deal with the fallout later.
Not in this moment.
That’s a problem for tomorrow.
Tonight is about Ivy and giving her everything that’s in my power to give.
That simple realization is all it takes for me to crush my lips to hers, devouring her mouth the same way I just did her pussy. She whimpers and clutches my shoulders, her tongue gliding along mine, undoubtedly tasting her own release as she demands all the things I was so reluctant to give her.
Not because I don’t want it.
Never that.
But because I don’t deserve her or this.
I never did.
Ivy knows that as well as I do, but she’s lost in the throes of her need, rolling against me as her hands slip to my waistband, fumbling at my button and zipper until she drags it down and is able to get inside.
The minute her smooth, warm palm hits my cock, I choke on my breath, my whole body bowing up toward her, a strangled gasp falling from my lips.
Fuuuuuck.
One simple touch from this woman and I’m falling apart, ready to come in her hand in an instant.
And it isn’t just because I haven’t had that kind of release since she last gave it to me months ago…
It’s because this is what I’ve dreamed about, what I wanted. Not my own touch. Not fantasies and memories.
Her.
I wanted Ivy’s soft but determined touch. Her fingers gripping my cock and stroking it in the way only she can. I needed her warm, panted breaths fluttering over my skin as she moves the pad of her thumb across the bead of pre-cum seeping from the head of my throbbing dick.
This is what I wanted, what I waited for, what I prayed would come, even as I knew asking for it made me the selfish bastard I have been trying to bury.
She shoves at the denim, trying to get it down to give herself better access, but her current position prevents her from moving it any farther. A frustrated sound falls from her lips before she rolls to the side, settling onto the bed to give me room to do it myself.
I push my jeans down, tug them off, and turn to toss them to the floor, but as I start to twist back toward her, something hot and wet engulfs my cock.
“Fuck…”
Gritting my teeth, I drop onto the mattress and find her head dipped over me, her mouth wrapped so tightly around me that I might instantly explode.
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
I tunnel my fingers into her thick hair, gripping it tightly, and jerk her away. She releases my slick length, confusion narrowing her eyes as they meet mine.
Her wet lips glisten, so fucking inviting, and my cock aches to be back in that heat even as the tightening in my chest reminds me why I’m here—for her, not me. “As much as I’ve fantasized about coming down your throat, Ivy, I don’t think that’s what you really want tonight.”
She whimpers, and I tighten my grip on her hair, angling her head down toward me, trying to get her to focus on why she asked me to come here tonight.
And it isn’t for this.
This isn’t why I’m here, either.
I feather my lips across her trembling ones. “Is it, Ivy?” Another sweep of them over her cheek. “Do you want my cock in your mouth tonight? Or do you want it somewhere else?”
She shudders against me, shifting closer.
It takes a second for her eyes to clear, for her to really look at me, and she finally shakes her head as much as she can with my hand buried in her dark tresses.
Good…
I release my hold on her hair, allowing her to move up onto her knees and straddle my thighs. Her slick core drags along my length, coating it thoroughly and drawing my balls up tight in my battle to hold back my release. One I am very close to losing thanks to Ivy.
I hiss at the contact as she continues to glide along me, grinding her clit as she presses her hands onto my chest, her short nails sinking into my skin with little sharp bites of pain.
Resting my hands on her hips, I dig my fingers in, stilling her movements long enough to say the words she needs to hear. “Take me, Ivy. Take whatever the fuck you need.” Her eyes flutter open and meet mine. “I’m yours.”
And I always have been, since that first moment I saw her.
She considers me for a second, looking down like she’s seeing me for the first time, and a tear slips from her eye. Her fingers trail up from my chest and over my lips. I nip at them, then draw one into my mouth and suck on it the same way she just did my cock.
Her body twitches again, her hips rocking.
Whatever gave her pause vanishes as quickly as it came, and she pulls her hand from my face and grasps my cock, aligning it to her wet heat.
With her gaze locked on mine, she sinks down.
Fuuuuucccckkkk.
Her hot, slick core engulfs me, and my eyes drift closed, my neck arching back at the feeling of being completely consumed by this woman. She gasps as I stretch her wide, and when she finally sinks down to the hilt, she crushes her clit against my pelvis.
Good God…
Pleasure courses through me, searing every nerve ending, consuming each minute fiber of my being, and washing away all those lingering doubts that this is the right thing, that she is the right thing.
I thought I had prepared myself for this.
The past week, I’ve thought about this moment and what I would do if she ever actually took me up on my offer, but I never imagined it could feel like this.
Like coming home.
Like being complete in a way I didn’t think I could ever experience again.
It steals my breath, my words, my ability to do anything but live in this moment and the hot clasp of her heat.
She leans forward slightly, her belly pressing into mine, and I open my eyes to search hers for any sign that this is too much for her.
I lift one hand from her hip to take her cheek in my palm, brushing my thumb across it. “Are you okay?”
The books have told me enough to know that sex while pregnant is safe, but the fear of hurting her or the baby still freezes me in place, torn between giving her what I know she likes and holding back because of her condition.
Ivy never liked it slow and gentle.
She never wanted that from me.
And I have always been too out of control when it comes to her to argue otherwise.
But I would never do a single thing to this woman that might hurt her or this baby—even if that means walking away right now.
Her hooded eyes lift to meet my gaze, and she nods, a long rush of hot breath floating from her parted lips, then slowly lifts herself just to sink down at the same agonizingly languid pace.
She drops her head back, hair cascading behind her as she starts to ride me, raising herself on trembling thighs only to engulf my cock again with a tight squeeze each time she descends.
Each movement is so careful.
So measured.
So unlike how Ivy typically wants it.
I slide my hands down to her ass and help her, lifting her higher and faster, allowing her to slam down on me with even more force. She leans forward slightly, altering the angle enough to allow the head of my cock to catch inside her, and a gasp falls from her lips.
And they’re too tempting.
Too fucking addicting to ignore.
I push myself up as far as I can get with her stomach between us and capture her mouth, swallowing down those little noises she makes as I brace my feet and thrust up into her.
Over and over again.
My cock drags along that perfect spot.
But I can tell it isn’t enough.
I kiss her deeply, gliding my tongue along hers, slowing the intensity while grinding up with every thrust to ensure she’s getting the most penetration and full contact.
Her legs tremble.
Her pussy clasps and pulses around me, seeking more.
Demanding it the same way I am each and every breath that falls from her mouth into mine.
She whimpers against my lips, and I squeeze her ass with my hand still there and tighten my grip on her cheek with the other, trying to hold her steady, to get her there. But I can feel her building frustration, despite how incredible this feels for both of us.
It isn’t enough.
My cock may be ready to fucking explode deep in her cunt, but Ivy needs something more.
I tear my mouth from hers, tilting her face until her hazy gaze meets mine. “Do you need it harder, Ivy?”
“I need…” She shakes her head, her eyes closing tightly as her hips continue to move with mine. “I need…”
She can’t get the words out, but I don’t need her to.
Rolling us carefully to the side, I pull out and shift behind her up onto my knees.
The mattress dips beneath my weight, and I slide my hands under her hips, helping her slide up onto her forearms so she’s in the perfect position for me to thrust into her.
My cock bottoms out inside her, so fucking deep and tight it feels like a vise constricting around it.
“Fucking hell, Ivy…”
She groans, rocking and adjusting her hips slightly until the head of my dick catches with my retreat. I grit my teeth, the heat at the base of my spine exploding out and threatening to undo all my willpower. But I refuse to give in to my own pleasure. I refuse to accept it when I’m here for her.
Instead, I plunge back into her again, sliding one hand around to cup her stomach. My fingers reverently stroke the expanding skin as I pump up into her, and she clutches the sheets in her hands, pressing her cheek into the mattress as silent cries fall from her parted lips.
If her hips weren’t rolling so hard to meet each drive of mine, I’d be worried I’m hurting her, but she moves faster, slamming against me harder and harder as she chases her release.
But something is holding her back.
Whether it’s conscious or not, her body is ready, but something is preventing her from letting go of all the coiled tension.
My hand drifts lower until I find her clit, and I glide my fingers across it rapidly as I kiss my way to her ear and suck the lobe between my teeth, grazing it gently. “Just remember you hate me, Ivy. Fuck me like you hate me, if that’s what you need.”
She shakes her head and whimpers, biting her bottom lip so hard I worry her teeth might break through it as she rolls her hips harder, thrusting back to meet every drive up of my hips.
A sob finally tears out of her, muffled against the bed but still ringing in my ears. “I do hate you…”
I plunge into her, stealing her breath for a moment, but as I withdraw, she shakes her head again, tears sliding down her face.
“I fucking hate you for how much you made me care about you. For how much you made me trust you. For how much you made me need you. I. Fucking. Hate. You. Camden. Usher.”
Those words are the dam breaking—for both of us.
Just different kinds.
She comes on a silent gasp, her body jerking in my hold as I continue to drive into her, holding her tightly to me, twisting and rolling my fingers across her clit to drag it out until she finally comes down to earth.
And I’m still rock-hard embedded inside her.
Unable to come.
Unable to find what she did when what she said rings in my ears, and I hear the truth of every syllable.
She sags and rolls onto her side, my cock sliding from inside her. Heavy breaths slip from her parted lips. Her chest heaves, and half-lidded eyes watch me with such a confusing mix of emotions.
All I know is I have to go.
I climb off the bed and grab my jeans, tugging them on and tucking my slick, still-hard cock into them. Her unsure gaze follows my every move, but it’s the combination of hatred and lust in her eyes that can’t be separated that ultimately prevents me from saying anything.
Because there isn’t anything left to say.
Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t right now.
I grab the rest of my clothes and walk out without looking back because if I do, she will see the tears streaming down my cheeks, and she will know just how much hearing her say that broke me.