Chapter 28 #2
“Okay, first thing you need to know about decorating cookies,” I tell them, pulling my hair back tighter and securing it with another elastic from my wrist, “is that it’s way more forgiving than people think. Royal icing is basically edible paint, and cookies are your canvas.”
Tyler studies the sugar cookies laid out on the counter. “These look way too perfect to mess up.”
“You can’t mess them up. That’s the beauty of it.” I grin, setting out several piping bags filled with colored icing. “Worst case scenario, you eat the evidence.”
“I like this plan,” he says, already reaching for a cookie.
“Not yet.” I swat his hand away. “First, I show you the technique, then you practice. Then you can eat any mistakes.”
I pick up a piping bag filled with blue frosting, squeezing it a little. “The key is consistent pressure and steady movement. Watch.”
For the next thirty minutes, I guide them, correcting Tyler’s technique when his icing gets too runny and showing Cameron how to smooth out air bubbles with a scribe tool.
They’re quick learners, and forty-five minutes later, we’ve created an array of cookies that I would never in a million years sell to a paying customer but are great for first-time cookie decorators.
The timer goes off, signaling that the cinnamon rolls are done, so I scurry across the kitchen. They’re golden and puffy and perfect, the smell of cinnamon and butter filling the entire space. I drizzle cream cheese frosting over them while they’re still warm.
Tyler inhales deeply, his eyes rolling back in his head. “Oh my God.”
“Fuck, those smell good,” Cameron agrees from where he’s rinsing his hands at the sink.
The three of us eat the fruits of our labor while Tyler tells us about his sister’s upcoming nuptials.
They’re having a small friends-and-family-only ceremony, followed by a reception that will be attended by the who’s who in the sporting world.
I recognize none of the names Tyler shares, but Cameron seems thoroughly impressed by the guest list.
“Blake wanted to elope, but Ella’s always wanted a classic wedding, so classic wedding it is.”
Cameron’s mouth kicks up on one side. “So your sister wears the pants in their relationship.”
Brows raised, Tyler looks from me to Cameron and then back again. “Yeah… and I hate to be the one to break it to you, Davies, but Kennedy wears the pants in yours, too.”
I swallow back a giggle, desperately trying to keep my expression neutral. “Yep. You’re totally pants-less. With your bare ass out and everything, baby.”
Tyler and I exchange a look and burst out laughing. Cameron, in turn, grumbles under his breath.
The rookie leaves an hour later with a to-go box of cookies and a few leftover cinnamon rolls.
The moment the door shuts behind him, I turn to face Cameron, bouncing on my toes. “Did you hear his comment?”
“About you wearing the pants in our relationship?”
“No, the one about how cinnamon rolls are Sloane’s favorite sweet treat.”
He frowns. “What? No.”
“Mm-hmm.” I nod, ponytail bouncing. “And he’s the one who asked if we could make them, so…”
“No way.” My fake boyfriend’s brows bunch together as he pieces together the puzzle. “There’s absolutely no way they’re sleeping together.”
“They may not be sleeping together, but he certainly wants to be.” I shrug and hop onto the table, licking leftover icing from my finger.
“Sloane would never get involved with anyone on the team.” He shakes his head sharply. “Especially one almost ten years younger than her.”
“Maybe, but he had the cutest little smile on his face when he said that.”
He rests a hand on either side of me, caging me in. “Cute smile? Really?”
I shake my head. I could have stated a fact like “Tyler has hazel eyes,” and Cameron would raise issue with it. “Get over yourself. He’s in love with Sloane.”
“No, he’s not.”
“I think he is, and you can’t change my mind.” Grinning, I rest my forehead against his. “Did his comment about me wearing the pants actually bother you?”
“Fuck no.” Cameron glares as if offended that I even had to ask. “But now that he’s gone, I’m taking yours off.”
The playful comment is so at odds with his scowl that it takes me a moment to process it. When I do, I throw my head back and laugh, nearly falling off the table. “What?”
He repeats himself with all the seriousness in the world.
“I’m sorry, did I turn you on by correcting your horrible frosting technique?” I tease, warming under his attention. “Or was it the way I frosted the—”
Cameron presses his lips to mine, stopping any and all trains of thought. I kiss him right back, relishing the hints of cinnamon as I trace my tongue against his. When he pulls back a fraction, breath harsh and uneven, I catch his lower lip between my teeth, not quite ready to let him go.
“It’s so fucking sexy watching you in your element,” he says, his lips brushing against mine with each word. His voice is rough, lower than usual.
Heat floods through me at his words, at the way he looks at me like I’m worth studying, worth memorizing.
His lips move to my neck, finding that spot just below my ear that makes my breath catch, and he nips at the sensitive skin, then soothes it with his tongue.
He drags his teeth lightly—causing goose bumps to erupt all over me—moving lower, and starts the process over.
I clutch his shirt, anchoring myself as he maps a path along my neck and jaw with his mouth.
“Cameron,” I breathe, half warning, half invitation.
He slides his hands to my waist and pulls me to the edge of the table. When my core connects with his hardness, I wrap my legs around his waist and guide him closer.
“You have no idea,” he murmurs against my skin, his breath warm, “how hard it’s been keeping my hands to myself all night.”
“I’ll get you a gold star for a job well done.” I tilt my head back, giving him better access.
One of those hands finds its way under my shirt, fingers skimming my back. “Mm-hmm, but now I want dessert.”
“You already had cinnamon rolls and sugar cookies,” I say, though my voice sounds far away.
“They were delicious, baby, but right now I want to taste you.”
“I promise the sugar cookies taste better.”
His lips curve into a smile against my throat, and when he lifts his head, his gaze is full of hunger. “I promise you they don’t.”
Amusement courses through me, along with a heavy dose of desire. “I don’t know if that’s a compliment or an insult.”
He gives me a sly grin. “I’m going to take your pants off now, Kennedy, and then you’re going to lay back like a good girl and let me eat your pussy until you come all over my tongue.”
My jaw unhinges. Holy fuck. Is it possible for words alone to trigger an orgasm?
Cameron’s a pro at unlacing skates, so it’s no surprise that it takes him less than ten seconds to untie my shoes and slip them off my feet.
It only takes another twenty to divest me of my jeans and underwear.
The stainless-steel counter is cold against my bare skin, but I can’t focus on anything but Cameron’s face as he eases my thighs apart and licks his lips like he’s been marooned on a desert island and I’m his first real meal in weeks.
“Fucking look at you, sweetheart.” He hovers close and kisses the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, the scrape of his stubble making me shiver. “Already so fucking wet for me.”
He drags his tongue against my center, deliberate and teasing.
I gasp at the contact, my hips arching in response. “Fucking hell.”
He looks up at me, his green eyes burning with need. “No, baby. This is fucking heaven.”
The laugh that erupts from me turns into a moan when he starts moving his tongue against me in slow, firm strokes, like he’s savoring every second.
I thread my fingers through his hair, grinding against his face, desperate for more.
With a tighter grip on my thigh, he pulls me closer to his mouth, and when he slides two fingers inside me, curling them at just the right angle, tingles shoot up my spine.
He sets a steady rhythm and swipes over my clit with his tongue.
The movements are lazy at first, and I’m in such a blissed-out state that when he finally sucks on my clit, hard and demanding, a bolt of electricity arcs through me.
I gasp, back arching off the table. My breaths come in short, desperate pants as the tension coils tighter.
With my hips tilted higher, I chase after the pleasure just out of reach.
Cameron moans against me, and the vibrations send me over the edge.
I fall into my orgasm, jaw dropping open, legs shaking around his head, fingers twisting in his hair as I anchor myself to earth.
To him. He grips my thighs firmly as he works me through it, not letting up until every breath slips from my lips as a ragged gasp.
As I come back down, I force my eyes open. He straightens, still holding tight to my thighs. His mouth is glistening, his eyes shining with satisfaction as he moves up my body, leaving a trail of kisses on his way.
“Much better than sugar cookies,” he growls against my mouth.
In answer, I slide my hand down his chest and into the waistband of his athletic pants. He’s warm and heavy in my hand, and as I wrap my fingers around him, his hips jerk forward. He lets out a ragged breath, forehead dropping to my shoulder, and shudders as I squeeze.
“Fuck, I need to be inside you,” he murmurs, his voice thick as he pumps into my hand.
He takes a step back, and when I’m forced to release him, he moans. Pants torn off, he grabs a condom and rolls it on.
As the fabric of my shirt slips over my head, I find Cameron staring at me, mouth hanging open as if this is the first time he’s seeing me naked.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful.”
I toss my bra to the floor and crook my finger. “You’re not too bad yourself.”
With a hand buried in my hair, he claims my mouth in a deep kiss.
Instinctively, my legs wrap around his waist, and as he eases himself inside me, I drop my head back and moan, relishing the full sensation.
Hands on him, I roam the hard contours of his body.
His muscles ripple beneath my fingers, contracting and relaxing as he moves, rocking his hips against mine.
I meet his thrusts and match them, grinding against him in a frantic rhythm.
Head lowered, Cameron captures one of my tightly beaded nipples between his lips and sucks hard. My back bows, and as he grazes his teeth against the sensitive tips, a whimper shivers out of my throat.
“Fuck yes,” I say feverishly.
He cups my breasts, switching between kneading and molding them with his hands and sucking and biting with his mouth.
I melt into the sensation, my head swimming.
He’s likely leaving marks on my chest, but I couldn’t care less.
He lowers his thumb to my clit, and I jerk at the pressure, whimpering at the overstimulation.
“Fuck, you like that, don’t you, baby?” he whispers against my chest, a chuckle in his tone. “I can feel you clenching around me.”
“Don’t stop,” I beg as my body races toward the finish line. “Please, don’t stop, Cameron.”
“Never.”
He steadies his pace, waves of warmth flowing through me like lava.
I make unintelligible sounds, lost to every sensation.
The buildup of tension explodes into shimmering shards of pleasure, and I clamp down as my world splinters, pinpointing on the all-consuming euphoria.
I dig my heels into the small of his back as the peak of my orgasm washes through me, legs trembling and vision blooming at the edges.
With three more deep thrusts, Cameron lets out a deep groan and stills his hips, head tipped back and eyes squeezed shut as his own release tears through him.
“You’re going to ruin me,” he grits out, voice thick with need.
I smile through my orgasm-induced daze. “Good. It’s only fair since you’ve already ruined me.”