Chapter Fifteen
Camden
Now that Dot and I are finally fucking, it’s like we’re trying to make up for lost time.
Over the past month, we’ve done it in beds, on couches, in the shower, on the floor of her kitchen—once while cookies were burning in the oven.
She laughs when I beg, whimpers when I praise her, moans when I eat her like it’s my last meal.
I’ve come from just grinding against her ass while she teased my neck.
She’s jacked me off under a blanket while we pretended to watch a movie.
I’ve fingered her in the front seat of her car, on a dark street, while she bit down on my hoodie to stay quiet.
I didn’t know sex could be this fun—this filthy.
But with her, it’s everything. And now, kneeling behind her on the couch, watching her legs shake while I tongue her like I’m starving? That might be my favorite yet.
But fuck, it is so worth it.
“Cam!” Dot’s voice cracks as I drag my tongue up the center of her soaked pussy and close my mouth around her clit.
She’s bent over the back of my couch, ass in the air, panties bunched around one ankle, and her thighs are trembling so hard I have to grip them to keep her steady. I alternate between long, slow licks and tight, suckling passes over her clit—every flick of my tongue makes her jolt, gasp, beg.
I’m hard. Painfully so. I palm myself through my boxers, but even that’s too much. The moment she moans my name—half sob, half command—I nearly lose it.
I bury my face deeper, tongue fucking her, hands gripping her hips like they’re all that’s anchoring me to the earth. Her taste is salt and heat and Dot. I could die here.
She sobs, “Stop, stop, Cam—I can’t—seriously, I’m gonna fall—”
I force myself to pull back, panting. One hand stays on her thigh, steadying her as she melts over the back of the couch.
“Jesus.” Her voice is full of grit. She’s laughing, breathless, flushed. “That was so good. You’re so good.”
“Anytime.” My voice is ruined, too.
I stagger upright. My boxers are soaked. I press a hand to my groin to hide the mess, but Dot’s eyes flick down and widen.
“Wait… did you come?” She grins, awed. “Just from that?”
I nod.
She bites her lip. “That is so fucking hot.”
And fuck, if I had an ounce of energy left, I’d drop to my knees again just to hear her say it twice.
I rush back to my room to clean up and change into a fresh pair of boxers and jeans.
I remember being horny in high school, but it was nothing like this.
If she offered, I could go again right now.
Maybe she could try going down on me. Since her ADHD comes with sensory issues too, I haven’t wanted to push it. I want her to want to.
“Stop it,” I hiss to my dick. “You are a problem. Down, boy!”
“Cam?” Dot calls.
I finish zipping up and hurry back to the living room, where she’s waiting. “What?”
Dot points mutely to the top of the cat tree, where Soot is sitting in prime cat-loaf position, legs tucked beneath her while she blinks at us with mild indifference.
“I think she was watching,” Dot whispers.
“Is that a problem?” I loop one arm around her and kiss her temple.
“She’s a tiny kitten! It’s weird!”
“Who’s she gonna tell? And why would she care?”
Dot side-eyes the cat. “You think she understands what we’re doing?”
“I don’t think she’s a peeping Tom, if that’s what you’re asking. Got your keys?”
Dot pats her pocket. To me, she says, “Yes.” To Soot, she adds, “Tell no one.”
I walk her out and escort her back to her place. We’ve only gone a few paces, however, when someone lays on a car horn.
“Cam!” Viktor pops out from the back seat of a limo. “Dot! Hop in, losers. We’re doing limo karaoke!”
“Oh, no, thanks.” Dot holds up a hand. “That’s thoughtful, but—”
“But nothing.” Knight walks up behind me and pulls me into a headlock. I squirm away from him only for Bowen to grab me from the other side.
“It’s a Venom couples’ night,” Bowen explains.
I elbow him in the ribs in my efforts to free myself. “Get off!”
“Oh, I think we all know who was just getting off.” Viktor flashes a shit-eating grin at me. “You’d think that living in this neighborhood for a while would have taught you to close your blinds, but nooooo.”
Dot covers her mouth with both hands. “Oh, no. Not him, too! Soot was bad enough.”
“Is it worse than Mira listening to us all the time?” I finally shrug Bowen off.
“Yes,” Dot insists. “So much worse.”
“Gotta close those blinds, my guy.” Viktor aims finger-guns at me.
Dot and I exchange a glance. She shrugs. We both know when we’re beaten.
Which is how, ten minutes later, we find ourselves sitting with Knova, Knight, Sofia, Bowen, and Violet, listening to Viktor belt Survivor’s “The Search is Over.”
Knight hands me a shot. “I think I liked it better when they hated each other.”
Knova smirks. “Oh, come on. I still hate him sometimes.”
Sofia snickers. “Be honest. Is it when you want the silent treatment? He sings about as well as you do.”
Knova flutters her eyelashes at her friend. “Oh, did you want me to do the special rendition of the National Anthem just for you?”
“I’ll pay you twenty bucks for a reprise,” Knight says. “I don’t think Bowen got to experience that particular atrocity.”
Viktor stops singing, even as the music plays on. “Guys, come on, show a little respect. I’m singing here.”
“Barely,” Knight teases.
“Okay, fine, you try.” Viktor shoves the mic at him.
To everyone’s surprise, Knight’s rendition of “Take On Me” is pretty good. Quiet Sofia does a killer cover of “Hot to Go” that has all of us dancing along. Dot shakes her head when the mic comes to her, and for once, Viktor doesn’t push her. Music is a sore subject, what with Delilah’s passing.
“I’ll do one.” I hold out a hand. Dot is quick to hand off the mic, accompanied by a grateful smile.
I don’t tell anyone my song choice until the music starts, and Dot snort-laughs when she realizes I’ve picked Carly Rae Jepsen’s “Call Me Maybe.” I even add a dance routine to go along with it, so that I end up draped across Dot’s lap for the final upbeat notes.
By the time the limo is pulling up to Coach’s house to let us off, Dot is giggly and tipsy, and I’m feeling pretty good, too. We wave to the others as the limo pulls away.
“Oh!” Dot squeezes my arm. “Crap, we never got the car!”
“I guess we’ll need to go back for it, then, huh? Another night.” I kiss her temple. “We can get a ride.”
Across the street, Cash’s porch light flips on. He pokes his head out so that he can glare at us. “In most neighborhoods, when kids grow up, they leave!”
“Hi, Cash!” Dot waves her arm over her head and stands on her toes. “You’re the best! I love you!”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Cash shakes his head and disappears back inside.
By this point, we’ve made such a racket that Bo and Skinbad are barking, which sets off other dogs up and down the street.
“Oops.” Dot titters behind her hand. “We’re bad at being quiet.”
“But we’re great at having a good time,” I remind her. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”
I lead her across the yard, warm from the day, her fingers curled into mine like she’s already pulling me close again.
Inside, the porch light goes off behind us, the door clicks shut, and suddenly, we’re alone. Quiet. Breathless.
Dot turns, presses her back to the door, eyes sparkling. She looks up at me like she’s working through a thought she hasn’t said out loud yet.
“You okay?” I ask.
She bites her bottom lip. “I just… I’ve been thinking about something.” Her gaze flicks downward, then slowly—so slowly—back up. “I want to try something.”
Jesus.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
Dot pushes off the door and closes the distance between us, hands sliding up my chest, warm and sure. “I’ve never… ya know. Done this before.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” Her voice is soft but strong. “I’ve thought about it. You. So much. And after tonight… I want to make you feel the way you make me feel.” She gives me the smallest, wickedest smirk. “Wrecked.”
I’m hard instantly. My blood roars in my ears.
She steps back and tugs me toward the couch, guiding me by the waistband of my jeans like she owns me—and God help me, she does. I sit. She kneels.
She. Kneels.
Dot settles between my thighs like she’s been doing this forever, but I can see the nerves behind her boldness—her hands hover at my zipper for a second, then she sucks in a breath, and undoes the button with a snap that echoes in my brain.
Her fingers brush over the bulge in my boxers, and I groan, head falling back. “Dot—”
She pulls me out slowly, carefully, like she’s unwrapping a present. Her eyes go wide, and then she smiles. “Huh. No wonder you were walking funny.”
“Jesus Christ,” I whisper. I’m not gonna survive this.
She wraps her hand around me, gives one tentative stroke, then another. Her fingers tighten a little, and that’s when my hips twitch. She catches it, grinning like she unlocked a cheat code.
And then she leans in.
The first touch of her mouth makes my thighs jump. Her lips are warm, soft, reverent. She licks a little circle over the head, and I swear I see stars.
She pulls back a sliver to whisper, “This okay?”
“Dot,” I rasp, grabbing the couch cushion like it’s the only thing anchoring me to this plane of existence. “You’re perfect.”
Encouraged, she goes deeper. Not all at once—slowly, learning me with her tongue, with the curve of her lips, until I’m panting like I’ve run a goddamn marathon.
One hand grips my thigh, the other pumps in sync with her mouth.
And her eyes—God, those big brown eyes stay locked on mine, like she wants to see what she’s doing to me.
She doesn’t have to guess.
I’m falling apart.
“You look…” I can barely choke the words out. “So fucking beautiful like this.”
She hums around me, and that vibration nearly ends me. My hips buck before I can stop them. She doesn't flinch. Takes it. Takes me. And her confidence grows with every pass of her tongue, every sound I make.
Dot pulls back enough to lick a stripe up the underside, her eyes gleaming. “You taste good,” she whispers, genuinely surprised. Then she goes back down, deeper this time. Hollowing her cheeks. Letting spit gather. Letting me lose my fucking mind.
I groan her name. “Dot—baby, if you keep that up, I’m gonna—”
Her response? A low, satisfied moan that wraps around my cock and yanks me over the edge.
I curse. Loud. I try to warn her again, but she doesn’t move. She wants it. And when I come—hard—she takes every drop. Keeps sucking through it, gentle now, greedy and soft, licking me clean like she’s memorizing the way I taste.
When she finally pulls back, her lips are flushed, her mouth wet, her eyes bright with mischief and pride.
I stare at her, chest heaving, ruined. Absolutely fucking drunk on her.
Dot wipes the corner of her mouth with her thumb. “So… was that okay?”
I can’t answer. I just pull her up into my lap and kiss her like I’m never letting her go. Because I’m not.
I kiss her hair, breathe her in, and I know—this was never just a crush.
Not some teenage infatuation I outgrew. Dot’s the girl who made everything else feel like waiting.
She’s not the one I fell for; she’s the one I was made for.
Every version of me—awkward kid, cocky rookie, stubborn man—all of me has always belonged to her.
And maybe she doesn’t know it yet. But I do. I always have.