Chapter 29 #2
“That’s my baby boy.” His hand pumped me faster, rougher, while his words unraveled me. “The only thing in that big, beautiful brain of yours should be me, stretching you open and filling you, until everything else disappears.”
He shoved my boxers down to my knees, his hand tightening around me until I whimpered.
“Bend over, beautiful,” he ordered. When I hesitated, his palm clamped my neck and pressed me to the mirror, cheek against cold glass.
His other hand fumbled with his zipper. This wasn’t the tender, careful sex we usually shared when it was just us. This was desperate, brutal, raw.
Cameron spit into his hand, slicked himself, and shoved inside me in one rough thrust.
I cried out, clawing at the counter as pain ripped through me, fire licking every nerve.
“That’s it,” he groaned, hips slamming forward again, harder, deeper. “take me. Take every inch.”
The mirror rattled. The counter bit into my stomach. Each thrust was a delicious mix of punishment and release for every ugly thought clawing at me.
His hand wrapped my throat, hauling me back against his chest so I could feel his heart hammering against my spine.
“That’s me,” Cameron husked, kissing my cheek. “every inch of me. You’re mine. You’ll never leave me.”
“Never,” I gasped. “and if you try to leave, I’ll fucking find you.”
Cameron angled his hips just right. My moan cracked. Spit slipped down my chin.
He caught it with his fingers, shoved them into my mouth.
“My pretty boy’s such a mess. My mess.” His grip fisted my hair, dragging my gaze up to the reflection.
Blue dye streaked his fingers. He didn’t care.
Each thrust split me open. My legs trembled, my body a disaster of stains, spit, and sweat.
But I was his disaster.
“Fuck–Seb,” he groaned, hips stuttering. One last brutal slam drove him so deep I swore he hit my stomach.
My body shook, release tearing through me with a violent jolt. Heat spilled from him into me, pulse to pulse.
For a moment, the only sound was our ragged breathing.
Then Cameron softened, arms wrapping around me, lips pressing against my cheek.
“You okay? Use your words.”
I nodded, gasping. “I’m okay.”
A small smile tugged his lips, that was until he noticed the streak of blue dye staining his copper beard.
“Shower?” he asked.
Even though my hair dye still needed time to develop, I nodded.
Portland had a lot of things Hartwood didn’t: a library, a grocery store within city limits, a lack of known cults, and, most importantly, DoorDine.
I hadn’t realized how much I missed food delivery services until I opened an app, ordered dinner in the shower, and had it waiting for us when we got out.
And, while I had a very nice dining room, I couldn’t be fucking bothered to sit in a chair. Plus, I was still infatuated with the bed I never got to use.
But, while I was perfectly fine eating burgers and fries on the edge of the mattress, Cameron sat in my armchair like a sociopath. All the while, he stared at me like I’d grown a second head and a third nipple.
“What?” I challenged, halfway through inhaling my burger.
Cameron’s eyes bounced between my sandwich and the styrofoam container I’d strategically placed on the comforter–just in case sauce or lettuce dropped out.
“Ain’t you worried about gettin’ the bed dirty?” he asked.
I prepared to tell him no, absolutely not, but then, as if to spite me, a large glob of barbecue sauce fell onto the container.
I set the burger down next to the sauce splotch and grabbed a napkin.
When Mason and I got together, she was in the still trenches of morning sickness with Rosie.
If she dared get out of bed with an empty stomach, she’d get sick.
The idea of eating in bed, for reasons I didn’t understand until I considered her history of disordered eating, mortified her. At the time, it annoyed me.
I was sick of her throwing up, tired of her being sick, so one day we had breakfast in bed to prove a point.
Looking back, my own motives made my skin crawl. But it worked. She started eating in bed and taking care of herself, and Rosie, when she could.
I wondered how she viewed that memory. Did she know my “sweet gesture” was actually a thinly veiled annoyance? Or did she look back fondly on something that once pissed me off?
“I think Mason’s pregnancy desensitized me to the evils of eating in bed,” I laughed, poking at the fries, pushing them around the box before finding a soggy one. “Hey… so how did talking to her go?”
Cam sucked in a pained breath, and I feared the worst.
“Well… as you can see, she didn’t come home,” he whispered.
My eyes burned as my mind registered my first-ever unwanted breakup. I wasn’t shocked, and that softened the blow—it was only a matter of time before she left.
Good things didn’t last for people like me.
“But,” Cameron continued.
I perked up a little, unsure what to expect but willing to listen. Maybe it was a custody arrangement past the emergency one that said we couldn’t be near the kids.
“She promised we’d talk again when she got back from her work trip.” Cameron sounded frustrated.
Why?
“Like, to all of us?” I clarified, popping the soggy spud into my mouth.
His lips pressed into a thin line. He shook his head. Was that why he was mad? Because all it took was one massive fight for her to act like we didn’t exist?
“I think she’ll be easier to reason with once she’s had time to calm down. I just… I don’t think she should go on this trip. Not right now.” His face creased, not in the annoyed way it did when Mason was stubborn, which was often.
Instead, Cam looked worried.
“… Why shouldn’t she go?” I pressed.
Mason had been going between Maine and California at least twice a month since she got out of the hospital.
“Why shouldn’t she go?” Cameron snorted, lips parting with purpose only to fizzle shut.
Slowly, he took out his phone and looked at something; I wasn’t sure what. After a moment, he put it back.
“Nothin’. It’s just… she has the kids.” He didn’t sound entirely convincing.
I crossed my arms, and part of me wanted to remind him we, specifically, didn’t do secrets. Between the murders on my end and secret identity on his, nothing other than complete, brutal honesty was acceptable.
But then I realized that I happened to be sitting on a relationship-ruining secret. And while potentially losing Mason hurt, the idea of losing Cameron was unfathomable, especially right now. So instead of pushing, I stayed silent.
All I could do was wait. If he was hiding something, the truth would come out. It always did. And that was both a blessing and a curse.