Chapter 8
Lou waited until Camille was through the door of her apartment before following.
She didn’t say anything, just leaned against the wall and watched as Camille dropped her duffel bag and fumbled off her sneakers.
For a moment, all Camille could hear was the blood in her ears, a pounding that eclipsed all other noise.
When she looked up, Lou’s gaze was still on her, still that impossible mixture of lazy and electric.
“Are you sure?” Lou asked, but her tone suggested she already knew the answer.
Camille nodded, not trusting her voice.
She set her phone facedown on the table, next to a stack of unopened mail.
The apartment was a single open space, kitchen flowing into living room, and at the far end, tall windows leading to her narrow, private balcony.
Camille swallowed and turned to face Lou, who still hadn’t moved from the wall.
It was as if Lou understood something about pressure, about how the anticipation of movement was a kind of foreplay.
They stood like that, in the middle of the apartment, suspended in the moment between lightning and thunder. Camille’s heart raged in her chest. She was afraid to speak, afraid to move, afraid to do anything but let her team captain take over her life, her body, her everything.
Finally, Lou said, “I can leave, if you want.”
But Camille didn’t want that, not even a little. Instead, she stepped forward, hands shaking, and brushed Lou’s arm. The skin-to-skin contact was electric, and she felt her body react in a way that left no room for thought.
“I want you to stay,” Camille whispered. “I want..” her voice paused, but Camille had never been afraid to ask for what she wanted and she wasn’t going to start now. “… I want you to fuck me again.”
Lou’s smile was soft, dangerous, and as she let the silence stretch, Camille’s anxiety melted into something hungry and unstoppable.
This time, when Lou reached for her, Camille didn’t freeze or flinch. She let herself fall forward, desperate for another taste.
It was as if Lou had been waiting her whole life for this exact moment of contact.
The kiss was immediate, annihilating—no coyness, no gentle test of boundaries this time, just Lou’s mouth and Camille’s, colliding.
Lou’s hands mapped Camille’s ribs, found the hem of her shirt, and yanked upward.
Cotton and flesh separated with a sound like tearing silk, and Camille gasped into Lou’s mouth.
There was nothing slow, nothing tentative; the want was old and urgent, like a heat that had always existed beneath Camille’s skin.
Her hands scrabbled at Lou’s hips, seeking leverage, but Lou was already a step ahead, pressing Camille backwards until her spine found the wall.
Plaster bit into her shoulders. Lou’s mouth trailed down Camille’s jaw, across the thin, sensitive line beneath her ear, and lower, over her throat.
Lou had both hands under Camille’s shirt now, and she used her body to pin Camille, all muscle and command.
Lou broke away just long enough to tug Camille’s shirt over her head—sports bra and all, —leaving her suddenly bare-chested, nipples pebbling in the apartment’s chill. There was a look in Lou’s eyes that made Camille’s stomach drop and her thighs clench: reverent, predatory, utterly unashamed.
Lou reached for the waistband of Camille’s track pants and peeled them down, hooking her thumbs under the waistband of her underwear to take both at once.
The fabric stuck to Camille’s skin and rolled, catching at her knees.
Camille was off-balance, teetering, more exposed than she’d ever been outside a locker room, and Lou dropped to her haunches to untangle the pants, brushing her knuckles along the backs of Camille’s calves.
Camille shivered, and Lou grinned up at her, then pressed her face into the hollow where thigh met hip.
And Camille was soaking wet still. She knew she was. Her panties had been uncomfortably wet.
Camille’s knees almost gave out. The only thing that kept her upright was Lou’s grip at her waist, anchoring her to the wall. Lou lingered for a moment, face buried, inhaling the scent of her sex, and when she looked up her eyes were black with hunger.
Lou stood, stepping back just enough to yank off her own hoodie, then her t-shirt, then shuck her jeans with the efficiency of someone who’d rehearsed this a thousand times in her head.
She wore nothing under the jeans, and when the fabric dropped, she was raw and naked.
She didn’t bother hiding anything. Camille was hypnotized—by the pale, corded muscle of Lou’s thighs, the long scar on her hip, the bruises she’d noticed and wanted to touch.
They slammed together again, mouths searching, hands clawing for purchase.
Their bodies lined up perfectly, skin against skin, the difference in their heights forcing Camille to stand on tiptoe to reach Lou’s mouth.
Camille felt more turned on than she ever had been.
She wrapped her legs around Lou’s hips, and Lou supported her effortlessly, grinding their pelvises together as they kissed.
The rhythm was frantic, nothing like the polite and measured sex Camille had grown used to with boyfriends. This was need, stripped of pretense.
Lou spun Camille around so that it was Lou’s back to the wall now, then still carrying her, walked her, clumsily, toward the windows at the far end of the apartment. Camille half-laughed, half-moaned, the sound muffled by Lou’s palm over her mouth.
“Shh,” Lou whispered, right into her ear. “You want the whole building to hear you?”
Camille bit the inside of Lou’s hand and tasted sweat and shower gel. “Don’t care,” she managed, voice rough.
Lou released her, grinning like she’d won some secret contest. She slid open the glass doors, and the evening air flooded over them—fresh, sharp, a slap of cold against Camille’s overheated body. The balcony was high-walled, ringed in privacy glass, nothing but sky and the city lights beyond.
Lou didn’t wait. She walked Camille backwards again, until Camille felt the glass cold against her ass, the air biting at her bare chest. Lou pressed up, hands braced on either side of Camille’s hips, pinning her in place.
The city glowed beneath them—orange, gold, violet—and Lou’s eyes seemed to reflect every color at once.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Lou breathed, voice soft and rough at the same time. She nipped at Camille’s collarbone, then sucked, leaving a mark that Camille knew would bloom purple by morning.
Camille’s body was on fire, every inch of her, and yet she wanted more.
She wanted Lou’s mouth everywhere, Lou’s hands, Lou’s everything.
She wrapped her arms around Lou’s shoulders, holding her close, feeling the hard press of Lou’s right thigh between her legs against her clitoris and she felt almost desperate with desire.
Lou looked up, eyes wild. “Tell me if you want to stop,” she said, but her fingers were already sliding between Camille’s thighs finding her wetness.
Camille could barely speak, barely think, but she managed: “Don’t stop. Please. Don’t.”
Lou obliged, her mouth moving slowly down Camille’s breasts, hungry and unrelenting, sucking her nipple deeply, as her fingers slid almost casually through Camille’s soaking pussy.
For a moment, Camille thought she might simply burn up—dissolve into the night, nothing left but nerve endings and the memory of this, this impossible craving, finally answered.
For a moment, the world contracted to just the space between Lou’s fingers and Camille’s wet, aching need.
Lou’s touch was like nothing Camille had ever felt—deliberate, sure, like Lou was playing an instrument she’d already mastered but wanted to rediscover note by trembling note.
Camille’s back pressed harder into the cool glass of the balcony wall, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the rail behind her.
Lou’s breath ghosted against her nipple once more, then lower, tracing a path with her tongue that left goosebumps in its wake.
There was a sudden, greedy desperation in the way Lou knelt, sinking to the cold, rough balcony floor without a second thought.
She looked up at Camille, her green eyes so dark with desire.
“I have to taste you,” Lou said, her voice frayed and beautiful, and Camille felt her wetness pooling again as Camille’s mouth found her pussy.
Camille’s knees almost buckled as she leant back on the railing further and parted her legs for Lou.
Lou’s tongue was insatiable—slick and soft at first, then growing rougher as Lou lapped at her, sucking her clit into her mouth and holding it hostage.
There was no slow ramp-up, no teasing. Lou was everywhere at once, hands spanning Camille’s hips to keep her still while her tongue worked in devastating, practiced circles and long hungry lines.
Camille had never been so undone. She gasped, one hand flying to Lou’s hair and tangling there, pulling Lou in tighter.
The other hand braced her against the balcony rail, anchoring her to the world.
She could hear herself panting, could hear the wet, obscene sounds of Lou’s mouth on her pussy, could hear the traffic four stories below and the faraway laughter from some rooftop party.
She didn’t care. She would have let the whole city see if it meant Lou would keep doing this, never stop, never ease up.
Lou’s hands slid lower, under Camille’s ass, tilting her hips up and forward.
Camille felt herself open under the pressure, felt Lou’s tongue press harder, exploring every ridge and seam.
When Lou slid two fingers inside her—fast, unexpected, knuckles ramming against Camille’s slick, desperate walls—Camille nearly screamed, the feeling was so intense, so encompassing, she wanted more.
She bit her lip hard, and began to ride Lou’s hand shamelessly, grinding down onto her fingers while Lou’s mouth on her swollen clitoris refused to let up for even a second.
Camille felt the pads of Lou’s fingers tight against her G spot and she felt her body gush hot sticky fluid in response.
“Oh… fuck..” she gasped. Camille’s legs gave out for real this time, but Lou was ready for her, keeping her upright with a steady, strong grip of her left hand on her hip as her right hand continued to fuck her.
The orgasm came on sudden, brutal, and overwhelming.
She seized around Lou’s fingers, body locking up as the first wave crashed through her, and she felt Lou’s fingers still deep inside her.
Camille was vaguely aware she was moaning—loud, unrestrained, begging and cursing and pleading for more even as her body lost all control.
“You want more?” Lou’s voice penetrated her bubble just about. Camille felt herself nodding wordlessly and Lou’s fingers responding as they began to thrust again.
“Fuck… oh….. mmm” Camille vaguely heard word falling from her lips but mostly all she could do was feel the intensity of Lou’s fingers.
She felt herself squirting again… not something she ever remembered happening before, but the hot wetness of it flooded down her inner thighs and as Lou’s fingers continued it happened again, then again, then again.
Camille lost all control of her body to orgasm after orgasm.
When Camille finally came down, the world had gone white around the edges.
Her vision shimmered. She slumped back against the rail, like a rag doll, every muscle quivering.
Lou didn’t move right away. She nuzzled her face into the space between Camille’s thigh and pelvis, breathing her in, then slid her tongue up for one final, slow pass, like she was savoring the last drop of something forbidden.
Lou looked up at her, face wet, lips swollen and shining. She smiled, smug and soft, and rested her chin on Camille’s thigh.
“Jesus Christ,” Camille breathed, and Lou just smiled lazily, not saying a word.
For a minute, they stayed like that—Camille shaking, Lou kneeling and basking in the aftermath. The city beyond their balcony was a hundred thousand lights, but up here, Camille was sure she’d never be more visible, more seen.
Lou finally stood, slowly, hands sliding up Camille’s trembling legs as she rose. She licked her lips, eyes locked on Camille’s, and cupped Camille’s face with both hands.
“Is that what you wanted?” Lou whispered.
Camille shook her head, dazed and desperate for more. “More than I ever wanted anything.”
Lou kissed her, soft this time, sharing the taste of herself between their mouths. Camille moaned into it, her body already thrumming with the promise of what came next.
“I want you to squirt in my mouth,” Lou said, her eyes never moving from Camille’s.
Camille felt her eyes widen, but she could only nod as Lou pulled her down onto the floor of the balcony.
Lou lay back on the floor pulling Camille’s hips until Camille straddled her face.
“Fuck my face,” Lou whispered. “Ride your own pleasure out on my mouth.”
Camille felt her heart rate thundering as she found her body obeying Lou’s command.
She looked down into Lou’s eyes as she carefully lowered herself until her pussy met Lou’s mouth and she moaned in happiness.
It felt amazing in every way. Lou began making out with her pussy as though it were her mouth.
She felt Lou’s tongue and mouth everywhere, through her soaking wet folds, suckling her clitoris, finding the tight ring of muscle that was her anus and licking teasingly there.
Oh my god.
Camille felt herself relaxing into it, closing her eyes and beginning to ride Lou’s face, her orgasm building deep inside her.
When she finally came once more it was an explosion of hot liquid into Lou’s mouth, Camille’s own moan was loud into the sky.
She heard Lou swallowing loudly and then licking - at first eagerly, then as Camille’s body began to relax, the licking was slower, taking Camille back down gently and Camille never ever wanted her to stop.