25. Breathe Through It
Breathe Through It
Romi
Time slowed as Cam's fingers hovered at the top of my shapewear.
The hotel room was dark, just enough light to see her face and this new look in her eyes.
This one had weight to it. Not the usual kind she gave me, not the anger or the want she'd been pretending wasn't there. This one landed low in my gut.
"No clowning my shapewear," I whispered.
She didn't clown me at all. Cam traced the edge of the fabric, her touch firm but careful. We didn't lose eye contact for a second. I felt every tug as the shapewear rolled down, inch by inch, until it pooled at my hips.
I tugged off her hoodie. Cam just watched, eyes locked on mine, until the shapewear slipped free and she impatiently slid it the rest of the way off.
My eyes flew where they shouldn't have when I pulled her shorts clean off her legs.
Cakes for days. I couldn't resist the urge to grab on until she moaned.
We kissed then, unhurried, without the heat of our old rivalry. Her lips moved with purpose. Her hand slid across my ribs, down to my stomach, pausing at the boundary I knew was coming.
"We can stop," she said, her breath warm against my neck. "Anytime."
I hesitated. "Just so you know—never done this before." I forced my tone flat, no big deal, but my pulse was pounding. "With a woman, I mean."
Cam stilled, eyes searching mine, and then she smiled, calm and sure. "I got you." She leaned in and kissed me, soft at first, then deeper, steadying my hands with hers.
Our remaining clothes scattered across the floor. The cool air hit my bare skin, and Cam's warm hands followed, smoothing away the goosebumps. She guided me onto the bed, her body fitting mine like pieces of a puzzle.
She started at my toes, lips warm and soft, a single press of mouth to skin, moving upward, hands still rubbing the arch of my foot.
I felt the tremor in my thigh before I realized it was mine.
Her chin resting on my shin, Cam met my gaze, waiting.
When I didn't stop her, she smiled and grazed her teeth over my calf like she was savoring me.
By the time she reached my knee, her hand splayed wide on my hips, pinning me down like I might float off.
Nobody had ever looked at me like that.
Not even my exes—especially not my exes.
Cam was locked into me, the kind of attention that made you forget your name.
Kissing the inside of my knee, she mapped a path up my thigh, pausing to breathe me in.
Nipped at a few spots that made me squirm.
I tried to say something snarky, but it came out as a gasp.
She laughed, low and deep, and the vibration of her breath against my skin made my back arch off the bed.
I was supposed to be in charge. Always. But she made it impossible to hold to that old script. I wanted to memorize everything she did, so I could play back the memory in private—see if it was real, if it could ever happen again.
She paused. "You like that?"
My head landed back on the pillow. "Y-yes."
"Good," she said between kisses of my thigh. "You in that dress had me thinking about doing this all night."
Cam didn't just kiss, though. She sucked at the soft skin high on my thigh.
Long enough, hard enough, that I knew I'd be wearing her bruises after.
First one side, then the other, leaving her signature.
By the time she moved closer, her marks burned in the best way.
The heat between my legs was sharp now, throbbing, mean and wet. I wanted her to do something about it.
Cam licked her lips, eyes glued between my legs. "She's so pretty."
She kept kissing, licking, making her way closer until her mouth was exactly where I wanted her, and I was acutely aware of every part of my body, every place our skin met.
Cam guided my fingers to my lips so I could hold myself open for her.
I had never felt so exposed and so wanted at the same time.
Had the nerve to make these small hungry sounds and look me dead in the eyes while her tongue was in it.
My hips raised off the bed, seeking her mouth. It was too fucking much.
"Wait, wait," I panted. "Come here."
I tugged at her until she crawled up to meet me, laughing.
I hadn't expected this. I hadn't expected her.
And I needed more from her. We kissed until my lips ached.
The taste of me on hers was wild, and I sucked her tongue into my mouth without shame until she grabbed my ass and started grinding against my leg.
"Don't be scared," she said when she released me.
My hands couldn't decide where to land—her shoulders, her waist, her wrist with its raised scar tissue.
I traced each discovery with trembling fingers.
When Cam's thigh pressed between mine, the heat of her skin burned through me, and I ground against her without thinking.
She pressed her open mouth to my neck, and I felt her laugh, wet and happy, like she'd just won something. Maybe she did.
Cam pressed her thigh between my legs, and I gasped. We rocked together, unable to stop the friction from building heat where we touched. It felt too good to stop.
Her chest brushed against mine, and there it was—her breast, inches from my face.
Nipples dark and proud. I froze, caught between wanting and not knowing how to want this.
Then I closed the distance, took a nipple between my lips.
Gentle. Testing. Cam's grip dug into my hips; her whole body jumped.
When my tongue circled her, I felt the change—felt her respond, hardening in my mouth.
She rocked against me harder, leaving wetness on my thigh.
I heard the conversation we were having without words.
Something about the salt-sweet taste of her skin made me forget myself for a moment.
"Yes, Romi."
City lights filtered through the curtains as Cam straddled me. In that moment—confident, exposed—she lowered herself, and nothing outside this room mattered. I thought I was ready for whatever was to come next.
I was not, in fact, ready.
Cam never broke the smirk, and I realized I was gripping her too tight. "Let go," she said. "I got you." It sounded reckless and holy.
She nudged my legs wider with her thigh, soft as velvet, until I was exposed. "Spread these for me."
Cam sat herself in my lap, pussy over mine until we were flush against each other.
Her hips flexed whenever she shifted, making my hips grind into hers like the only trick I knew.
I wanted to talk shit, or at least say something that didn't sound like I was dying and grateful for it.
But Cam's mouth was back on my neck, and her hands were on my breasts, guiding them to her mouth, and my head was buried in hotel linens.
She was wet against me, and she rode me like she knew what I had been craving. The slick sounds we made together made my head fall back.
She rolled her hips, slow and heavy, and it was enough to wipe out my entire brain. I reached for her and missed, grabbed her shoulder instead. She must have seen because she let up, just a breath, and the air between our bodies felt like static—dangerous, necessary.
"Relax. Don't overthink," Cam said. She sounded so stupidly calm. But she pulled back just enough to find my eyes. "Still with me?"
"I don't—I don't know what the fuck to do with my hands."
Cam grinned for real. "You're doing perfectly. Just hold on to me."
She watched me throughout, which kicked everything up to ten, made it more intense for both of us.
She pressed in again, and I felt it everywhere—hips, ribs, teeth.
My whole body lit up, every part. I smelled us: arousal, sweat, and expensive soap, and the weird, nothing scent of the hotel linens.
Cam's slit was slick, wet, and hot against me.
Every shift made this bright, mean shock explode under my skin, and I couldn't not ride her harder.
Her hands were on me, gripping my thighs, and she ground into me until the only thing left was the sound of her voice.
"Mmm…look at us. We fit so good," she said, and I almost lost it. Fumbled until I gripped her knee. It was praise that hit somewhere below logic. Shame wasn't even in the room with us. All I could do was nod, pressing closer, eager to prove her right with every roll of my hips.
I scraped at her, nails dragging along her thigh tattoo, and Cam arched hard, like she needed it. The sounds she made were deep and half-swallowed. I realized I needed her to let those out.
Cam leaned in again, and the world tunneled down to Cam's mouth on my jaw, the steady fuck of her hips into mine, the way her hand slid up my thigh, palm wide and patient. I was dizzy, shaking, the kind of desperate that undid me.
I wanted to ask if this was okay, if I was doing it right, if she wanted me as much as I wanted her.
But all I could say was, "Please," and Cam shushed me with her mouth, lips soft, tongue gentle, like I was a song she already knew by heart.
She angled down, hand grabbing at me as her hips drove into mine and everything went white-hot.
Our breathing turned rough. She moved in tight, deliberate rolls that kept us locked together, slick and hot.
My hips went frantic, bucking up and chasing her mound, and I clung to her like it was the only thing keeping me from disintegrating.
"There you go." She had to find the breath for the rest. "That's my girl. "
Of all the things to undo me, it was the talking. My face went hot, and not from the work.
Cam fucked herself on me until her face crumpled, mouth gone slack. Her pussy throbbed against me as her hips snapped into mine. The wet heat between us got even slicker.