17. Camden
17
CAMDEN
E diting the footage of the blow job takes time. It also makes me relive it, and before long, I’m hard again. I rewatch it once through, then post it. It’s been over an hour—what are the odds Harper went to bed?
Guess I’m about to find out.
My gaze flicks to the rose on my desk. I had grabbed it out to ask her about it, but she only cast a fleeting glance and then rushed away. Maybe the roses came from Connor or Lucas. Or Royal. It wouldn’t be the first time a girl has given a guy flowers. Sure, it’s a bit odd… The trash already went out, though, and I’d feel a little more like a creep if I questioned the guys.
Something about roses tickles at my memory, but I can’t remember the significance.
I sneak into the hall and creep down toward Harper’s room. I imagine she checked her phone for the name on the account. As promised, I erased all signs of her real name, replacing it with little things to needle her. Calling her a voyeur was just the icing on the cake. There are references to peeking into her world. In this scenario, she’s not the voyeur—her followers are.
And maybe I am, too.
Did she understand?
Her door is unlocked—another sign I take with a smile.
Is she asleep? Or perhaps she’s waiting for me?
I slip into her darkened room and pause, my back to the closed door. I was around while Royal and Lucas assembled the furniture and hefted the mattress up the staircase, but I didn’t offer to help. Even if I’m all for Harper being within easy reach, I didn’t want to give Royal any ideas about my enthusiasm.
Maybe enthusiasm is the wrong word.
I’m just… horny.
Obsessed.
Her deep breathing fills the room, and I latch on to that noise. She must’ve already been tossing and turning, because she’s flat on her stomach, one leg hiked up and exposed. The blankets are rumpled, barely covering her.
And, oh, she’s naked.
Naughty Harper .
I set up my phone to record, taking a moment to check the angle and lighting. It’ll do. I shed my clothes off-camera and approach her. My movements are slow and steady. Peel down the blankets. Expose her body.
Anticipation thrums through me. It’s been too long. Days. Eons .
Same thing, really.
I don’t bother trying to adjust her body—she’s fine the way she is. In the perfect position for me to lift her hips up and slide into her. She’s soaked, her cunt practically dripping. From touching herself after— or before —the blow job, or just from the act of it? I wish I knew.
The not knowing is just as sweet.
I line up, press forward, and somehow withhold the deep groan building in my throat. She feels so fucking good, I don’t know how this could be any better.
Maybe if she was awake?
No.
I don’t think she quite deserves that yet. Not when any day, she could reveal the secrets between us to her brother. I don’t doubt the lengths he would go to spite me for touching her.
When I’m buried fully inside her, I slowly lower myself down. My front presses to her back, and I slide my hands under her. I cup her tits, pinch at her nipples. My mouth lands at the crook of her neck, where it slopes into her shoulder, and I inhale her sweet scent.
Not floral, but more like honey.
It makes me want to take a taste.
My hips move, the squeeze of her cunt around my shaft making staying still nearly unbearable. Out, and sharp back in. My stamina should be better now that she took the edge off with her mouth. And feeling the soft planes of her body under mine just makes every sensation better.
She shifts, a low groan escaping her.
I fuck her harder. Our bodies jerk with every thrust, until I sense her waking up. Her breath comes quicker, and she tries to roll—only to be held immobile.
She struggles. Her head snaps back, and only a quick twist to the side keeps my nose safe. Her panic comes back double when that little move doesn’t work, and it feels different than the other times we’ve been together.
I pull out and grasp at her flailing arms, manhandling her until she’s on her back. Her chest heaves, and I pin her wrists over her head. Stretched out over her, my head even with hers.
“It’s me.”
Her eyes flutter, the glazed panic finally receding when her gaze latches on to my face.
“Camden?”
I scowl. “Who else sneaks into your bed at night?”
Her mouth opens and closes.
I narrow my eyes, but she only shakes her head.
An unfounded fear? Doubtful.
I sigh at the lie of omission. Someone else coming into her bed like this, but causing her irrational fear?
My rage comes out of nowhere.
It’s not directed at her, but she’s my only target. For what? For not being truthful?
“Just me,” I assure her.
I slide my hands down her wrists, over her forearms, her biceps, until I have her throat. Her heartbeat pulses at my fingertips, way too fast to be normal.
“Just me,” I repeat as I tighten my grip.
Her hands come to my wrists, but she’s no match. I put her back to sleep—this time, well, it’s a bit forced. She goes slack, and I relax my grip. I spread her legs and push back into her. I take what I need, and when she tenses up, her awareness crawling back, I make sure she stays unconscious. I want her to ride the edge.
In both the sense of being awake and also orgasming.
Like this, looking at the way her breasts sway, and how her throat looks with my hand wrapped around it, my climax approaches faster than I anticipated. My balls tighten, and I spill inside her. I keep moving my hips, fucking her through it, and the tingling sensation feels like heaven and agony.
Finally, I pull out. I run my finger up her center, collecting my cum, and smear it across her lips.
Then, before she can wake, I put my clothes back on, end the recording, and get the fuck out of her room.
I make it almost all the way back to my room. But I glance over my shoulder at her door and crash into a body. Hands grasp my shoulders, shoving me back, and I focus on who’s in front of me.
“Dude,” Royal grunts. “Watch where you’re going.”
My body flushes, and I swear, he’s one second away from reading the guilt all over my face. And that will be the end of it. Our friendship, my good name on the team—everything.
But instead, he just moves past me, into the bathroom, and closes the door between us.
Safe for another day.
But it doesn’t make me feel any better… even if Harper is the last thing on my mind when I finally do close my eyes.