Chapter Twenty-Three. Man-Made #2
“What are you doing?” she asked, still haphazardly stretching the hem of her T-shirt to cover her lower half. “You look like Reggie digging around in the blankets.”
He blew a loose strand of hair out of his eyes, laughing as he stared down at her. “I’m drying my hands.”
“Are your hands … wet?”
“They’re sweaty.”
“Why are your hands sweaty?”
“Because you’re masturbating in my spare room, Cam. That makes a man sweat, yeah?” In a very un-Danny move, he took a long, theatrical deep breath. “If you’re ready, lie back and open your legs.”
His calm and collected attitude was almost as jarring as the persistent buzzing of the toy inside her.
But she’d grown used to it, the sensation no longer pleasurable.
The situation had left her on the cusp of more than a couple of orgasms, edging her until she’d teetered into masochistic territory.
Cam wanted this toy out and she wanted it out now.
As she focused on the spinning ceiling fan, she opened her legs and said, “All yours, champ.”
He let out a choking noise, something between a laugh and a groan. The bed dipped as he shifted even closer and he felt like a shadow as he hovered over her, one hand gripping a thigh, and the other pressing a finger inside her.
The intrusion had her hips rising off the bed, and as she whined, she covered her face with both hands. His finger wiggled inside her, just barely knocking into the vibrator.
“Another one,” she demanded, through gritted teeth. “Just like … scissor your fingers.”
His hand froze, and when he didn’t respond, she braved a peek at him. He was flushed red, staring down at her like a deer caught in the headlights. “You want me to … scissor you with my fingers?”
“Yes! Like chopsticks!”
He exhaled, blowing another round of loose hair out of his eyes, and fogging his glasses up in the process. Appeasing her, he pressed another finger inside. When he curled them, just barely reaching the misbehaving toy, she whimpered like an animal in heat.
The sensation was unbearable. Between his fingers and the vibrations …
She needed this toy out before she embarrassed herself any further.
“Okay,” she moaned, nodding frantically, “now just … see if you can grip it between your fingers.”
“Maybe I can turn it off? I think that would really help.” His fingers shifted, attempting to reach the mechanism, and failing. “Fuck.”
“The power button was hard to press before this thing was inside me.” Another twist of his fingers had her gripping the bedsheets and crying out. “Come on, Danny! Just fucking grab it!”
“Camille!” he exclaimed, bright red and panting. “This isn’t a fucking game of Operation, okay? I’m trying to pull a tiny, vibrating toy out of you! And it’s … wet and it’s not the easiest thing to get ahold of.”
She slammed her head into the pillows, biting her hand to swallow her moans. “Okay, well, if this isn’t out of me in the next thirty seconds, we’re going to have a problem.”
He scooted closer, and she recognized the newfound determination on his face. “Okay. Let me just…” At the intense press of his fingers into her overstimulated body, her eyes rolled back.
Too late.
The noises escaping her lips were inhuman.
She wasn’t sure how else to describe the sounds she made as her toes curled into the bed and the orgasm ripped through her.
Her poor, overworked body had finally exploded after a disastrous evening of self-love.
As the pleasure endured, her hips rose, and Danny gripped tighter on her thigh, steadying her movements as he continued his rescue attempt.
“Cam,” he whispered, “did you just come?”
“Ye—yeah,” she whined, shivering, shaking, maybe even floating as she came down from her high. “Fuck.”
She was comatose, the aftershocks ongoing. But without notice, the vibration stopped, and his touch disappeared.
Startled by the abrupt change, she sat up and stared at Danny. He held the black silicone in his hand, the toy gripped between three fingers the same way a pitcher holds a baseball. He swallowed, his attention jumping between her and the toy.
“Got it,” he choked out. “Right as it died, too.”
She nodded, dazed, her knees collapsing into each other after so long being held apart. He slid down the bed, until he sat on the edge with his back to her. His shoulders hunched, and his head dropped between his knees.
“Thank you.” Her throat was dry, and her legs were wobbly, but she managed to flip to her knees and move to where he sat. “I owe you.” When she touched his shoulder, he jerked away and rushed to the door. “Danny?”
“Are you okay?” he asked, facing the wall. “Nothing hurts?”
She wanted to laugh, entertained by the idea of pain after the toe-curling orgasm she’d had. “My pride, maybe. But I’m fine. Are you okay?” When he didn’t immediately respond, she stood and took cautious steps towards him. “Danny?”
“I should get back to bed.”
Every step had her legs rubbing together, overstimulated yet still unfulfilled. She felt dangerous, and greedy, and all she thought about was Danny in those fucking glasses. In the moment, she no longer cared about risking their group dynamics or Esme begging her not to sleep with him.
Drunk on endorphins and willing to risk it all, she grabbed his wrist.
“Will you look at me?” she asked, begged.
“Milly…” The nickname was a whine, and fuck if it wasn’t the hottest thing she’d ever heard.
“Will you look at me?” she repeated. When he glanced over his shoulder, dark eyes wary but hungry, she knew he felt it too. “Turn around.”
“Milly—”
“Danny.”
He turned, and she gorged on the view. Her eyes skimmed from his naked chest to his toned stomach and finally, to his tented briefs.
“Why don’t you let me take care of that?”
He fussed with his hair, his gaze jumping between her and anywhere else. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“I’m not offering as a thank-you. I’m offering because I want to.”
He dropped his head. “Don’t tease me.” The words were rough, like he struggled to get them out. “Please.”
“I’m not teasing you.” She walked him into the wall, until his back pressed into the smooth white. Her fingertips traced down his stomach, stopping only when she reached the waistband of his briefs. “You trust me, right?”
The softest of hallway light trickled beneath the door, backlighting his body. Pink lips parted. Brown eyes widened. “You know I do.”
“Then go back to bed if that’s what you want.”
As he stared down at her, jaw clenched and cheeks reddened, Cam knew he wasn’t going anywhere.
Emboldened, she gripped his cock through his boxers, smiling up at him through her lashes.
When he groaned, she worked her hand under the fabric and took hold of his hardened length.
He was warm, and thick, and twitching, desperate for her attention.
Maybe as desperate as she was for him.
“Fuck.” His head dropped back, knocking into the wall. “Are you sure about this?”
But she only smiled, working his cock in her hand until he keeled forward, grabbing her arm to steady himself. “Very sure,” she promised.
When another breathy cry escaped his lips, she hit her limit.
She needed more. She needed next. Her hands went on separate journeys: one jumped from his hard cock to his thigh tattoo, tracing the B in brENNAN; the other took hold of his hand, gently tugging him forward.
He followed her to the bed, not saying a word as she pushed him onto the pull-out mattress.
He leaned up on his elbows, glasses askew and hair messy. Heavy-lidded eyes watched her quiet approach, their only soundtrack his swallowed breaths. Once she stood over him, she stripped out of her T-shirt. Those shiny eyes widened, jumping up and down her naked body.
His attention was the best kind of debilitating. A depraved drug, a sensual stimulant.
High on his blackened stare, she straddled him, throwing her arms around his neck and immediately moving against his clothed cock. Her nails dug into the heated skin of his shoulders and back, marking him like his chlorine-scented touch had marked her days before.
“Cam … fuck,” he whispered, watching her grinding hips. “What are you doing to me?”
Instead of answering, she kissed him, determined to possess his night like he was possessing her thoughts. She teased his tongue with her own, and let her hands travel into his hair, where they tugged at the strands. His mouth was soft, and minty, and only ever separated from hers for air.
And then he was back on her, an addict, the pair of them lost in the throes of delirium.
Cam had no idea what effect this would have on their relationship. On their friends.
On tomorrow.
And yet as she rubbed against his aching cock, she didn’t care, her every thought consumed with him.
As they kissed, she maneuvered his boxers off.
Once his cock sprang free, she took hold of it, listening to his shuddering sighs as she teased the head along her sensitive skin.
With a matching moan, she slotted over his length and lowered slowly.
Every inch was a delicious stretch, and once he was fully inside her, she laughed against his lips, unbelieving of the moment.
Unbelieving of him.
Needing a minute to adjust to the sensation of him inside her, Cam buried her face in his neck, peppering kisses along his shoulder and collarbone.
His skin was intoxicating, perfumed by woodsy bodywash and light sweat.
When she gazed up at him from her position on his chest, he stared down at her, bedroom eyes glassy.
He dropped his head, chasing her mouth until they again connected.
His arms wrapped around her body, both hands firm on her hips.
With his upward thrusts and guiding hold, he helped her move.
Her legs burned as she alternated her movements, sometimes grinding against him, other times riding him properly.
Each rise and drop on his hard length had her seeing stars, and each cry was swallowed by his willing mouth and pliant tongue.
“That’s it, Milly,” he cried, biting her lip.
Every few moments his hands would ascend, palming her breasts, and playing with her nipples.
He clearly couldn’t make up his mind, torn between touching her and helping her ride him.
Amid their frantic rutting, he seemed to realize he could use his mouth for more than kissing.
Hesitantly separating, he kept his gaze on hers as his mouth trailed down her neck and chest. He locked his lips around one of her nipples, and she cried out.
“You look so fucking beautiful,” he groaned, each word shaky against her breast.
He looked beautiful, reddened skin shining in the moonlight, his glasses struggling to stay on the more he moved with her.
She wasn’t sure if she was broken, or if the incessant vibrating of the toy had turned her into a nymphomaniac, but somehow, she was close to orgasm again.
When she let out a whine, her nails scratching at his back, Danny shifted his attention.
A thumb pressed into her sensitive skin, and circled touches sent her towards euphoria.
His mouth kissing her breasts, his panting groans vibrating against her skin, his length pulsing inside her …
It didn’t take long. As the pleasure overtook her, she gasped into a sweaty kiss.
He held her steady, continuing to tease her skin as she came.
He followed moments later, letting out the most delicious cross between a whine and a groan into her shoulder, their bodies still moving together in perfect sync.
When he collapsed onto the bed, he pulled her with him. He stared at the ceiling fan, glasses fogged, hands tangled in her long hair.
“Cam,” he whispered, “what are you doing to me?”
What was he doing to her?
Too exhausted to make sense of anything but her thudding heartbeat and his warm body, she tucked her face into his neck.
For the first time in more than a week, sleep came easily.