25. Breathe Through It #3
I kissed her throat as my fingers found something slippery, bumpy and soft. I ran my knuckle softly over it again and again until she gasped. "Still got another one in you, or was that it?"
Cam laughed, the sound hoarse and shaky. "You want to give me one?" Heavy-lidded, gaze gone loose. She was fighting to keep her voice steady, whatever she used to keep herself in check slipping by a hair.
"I want to try." My voice was rough, but I meant it. I nipped at her throat, soothed the skin with my tongue until she shuddered. Didn't stop touching her either.
Her laugh was breathless. Face pink. "If you keep doing that, though, it might not take much."
"Show me what you like."
She rolled onto her back, pulling me up with her, and I let her settle me on top. Her hips rose to meet me, and I realized she was daring me to take the lead.
No pressure.
I shifted until I was straddling her, her thigh pressed tight between mine. She looked up at me with hungry worship. A dizzy thrill shot through me. I was stealing a secret I wasn't supposed to have.
I lined up over her, and for once I didn't have a plan. Cam was the expert here, not me, and she was lying back like she trusted me to figure it out. So I would. I always did.
My hands shook as I mapped her body, starting at her collarbones, tracing to the peaks of her breasts.
Every place I touched was soft and warm.
I flicked over her stiffened nipples, just to watch her react—her chest bowing toward me, a sharp intake of air.
Her hand caught mine, pressing my palm flat to her heart, and I felt it hammering.
Never seen Cam look nervous, not even on a stadium stage, but here, she was trembling under me.
I kissed her. Hesitant at first, then braver, learning the feel of her mouth.
I was greedy all of a sudden. I wanted to see every side of her, all the cracks and soft spots.
I moved down, peppering kisses over her neck, her breasts, her stomach.
When I reached her hip bones, I looked up, checking her face—she was watching, lips parted, eyes dark and glassy.
"Tell me what you need," I said, tracing a finger over her tattoo, half hoping she'd laugh and take over, half desperate to get it right.
My heart? Sprinting and unhelpful. I'd never done this, not with a woman, not like this, and the last thing I wanted was to give her a story to clown me with later.
But I wanted to make her feel good, and I needed to know how.
Cam propped herself up on her elbows. That look she gave me made me feel seen and exposed at the same time.
"I need you. Whatever you want to do," she said, a catch in her voice. "Just—keep touching me. Please."
It hit me with force: I was edging her right this second. Had been for weeks. That "please" knocked the breath out of me. Sent a bolt of heat all throughout my body. My fingers stroked along her clit, then dipped lower to her lips, and she clenched so hard I snatched my hand back.
"Sorry—" My voice broke, but she shook her head, eyes wild.
"Don't be," she breathed. "Yeah, like that, but softer." She covered my hand, guiding me. "Mmm. Slow. You feel so good."
The praise made my skin prickle. I kept moving my fingers, experimenting, hyper-aware of every shift in her hips, every sound she made.
I was half-convinced I'd mess it up, but every time she moaned, I felt myself getting wetter just from her voice alone.
I wanted to try it with my mouth, just to see what she tasted like, but what if I did it wrong?
What if she hated it? My lips tingled. I licked them and I looked up, uncertain.
She must've seen it—saw right through me, like always. Cam threaded her fingers through my hair, gentle but firm. "You can taste me," she said, voice low. "If you want."
I wanted. Badly. Hunger drowned out the nerves, and I ducked down, tasting salt and sweat and something so delicate it made my head spin.
I started a slow, long pass, licking a stripe to see her reaction.
When she jerked, I did it again. Completely curious, selfish, almost embarrassed by how much I wanted her to lose control.
My clit jumped every time she gasped, a sharp, needy shock that made my hips twitch. I couldn't help but moan into her skin.
"That's it." She was so easy with praise it made my face burn. "You were made for this."
She told me what she liked, and I soaked it up, storing every moan for later.
She moved my braids off my face, held them to the side so she could see better.
For a minute, I couldn't believe it was me making her fall apart—Cam Wolfe, undone under my mouth.
Her hands tangled in my hair, not controlling, just holding on.
Every time I flicked my tongue just so, her thighs twitched.
I pressed my thumb in, tentative, and licked circles over her clit, letting her grind up into my face.
I pulled my mouth off her for a second, panting. "You taste so good."
"Fuck, Romi." Cam bit her lip as she spread herself wider for me.
The taste was wild—tangy and real, nothing like any man—and I wondered how I'd lived this long without knowing it.
The more she lost it, the hotter I got—like every gasp, every curse, only wound me tighter.
I'd never been turned on like this from giving head.
It made no damn sense, but I wanted more.
Needed more. My thighs squeezed together, that need craving friction, but I couldn't stop. Not when she was this close.
"Perfect," she gasped, voice almost broken. She had my braids in a grip. "Keep eating me like that. God, I love fucking your mouth."
I hummed, confidence climbing. Flattened my tongue, pressed harder, then faster, chasing every twitch, every sound.
I kissed her until her clit stood at attention and her lips kissed me back.
Reached up to roll her nipple between my fingers until Cam ground her hips into me, all those edges gone, soft and shaking.
I wanted to see how far I could take her. How much she'd let me learn her.
"Fingers," she begged, and I knew exactly what she meant; I slipped two inside past swollen, wet lips, slow, and she gasped, clutching at me.
I wasn't sure if I was doing it right, but I kept going—tongue and fingers, hard when she cried for it, soft when she couldn't breathe.
I added a third finger. Her hips bucked so wildly I almost lost my grip, but when I curled my fingers and hit something inside, she moaned.
"There," she gasped, desperate, and I did it again, chasing the spot, memorizing her body answering me back.
Cam fluttered around my fingers—tight, then trembling, her walls clenching and pulsing as I pressed deeper.
I tasted her get even wetter, and I knew I'd found it from how she arched.
I wasn't scared anymore. I went harder, faster, sucking her clit, drawing out every sound she made.
Cam was loud, raw and I wanted to keep her on edge like this.
"Just like that," she urged, voice high and shaking. "Fuck, yes, like that."
Her hands tugged at my hair and I hummed into her skin, loving the way she arched, the way the tension kept her right on the ledge.
Every time her pussy fluttered around my fingers, my breath hitched, caught up in her pleasure.
Unreal how much of a turn on this was, tasting her and watching her and smelling her and listening to her.
Learning her. I kept going, sucking until she gasped and tried to squirm away.
I didn't let her up. My fingers pumped inside her, and her clit throbbed in my mouth as she came, wild, deep, and hard.
Her walls gripped my fingers, pulsing, spilling against my tongue as she cried out.
I held her through it, greedy and in awe.
Her body shook until she went limp—and for a second, I thought I'd knocked her out cold.
Then she laughed, clutching my arms like I was the one thing holding her to earth.
I pulled out of her carefully and crawled until we were face to face. Hers was a deep shade of pink that made me proud. Cam pulled me down, lips slick with her wetness, and smiled against my mouth. She tasted herself on my lips and groaned. Bit my bottom lip just enough to sting.
"Holy shit," she said, and her voice sounded fucked-out and made of glass. "You sure that's your first time?"
My cheeks burned. I didn't know what to say.
Cam didn't give me a choice—she rolled me onto my side, wrapped herself around me, and for a while we just laid there, all tangled up, every inch of bare skin pressed together.
My heart wouldn't slow down, and from the way her breath hitched whenever I shifted, neither would hers.
We didn't speak for a long time. Breathed each other in, the warm air and the city sounds outside, and the warmth between us. Her fingers traced lazy loops over my hip, up and down, drawing a coastline she never wanted to leave.
When she spoke, it was soft, a secret:
"I never thought you'd let me catch you."
I almost didn't answer. I bit my lower lip, catching the last of her taste. I kissed her again until she blushed and pulled me in tighter. "I didn't know I wanted to be caught."
She caught my eyes, with a slow smile. Held them. Wouldn't let me escape.
"Yeah, you did."
I wanted to argue, but it was true.
Cam's heart slowed under my palm. I pressed my face into her shoulder, not wanting to think at all.