32. Bars and Bras #3
I bent up to kiss her, pulled her down until her nipples grazed my mouth.
I bit one, not gentle, and she suckered in a breath, her rhythm faltered.
I wrapped my arms around her waist and snapped my hips up to meet her on the downstroke, and for a second she lost it—just a second, but enough for me to know I could undo her if I wanted to.
"Cam, oh f—" She gripped my arms.
The shift of the toy sent a shock through me, doubled-up pleasure from her rocking against me.
I slid my palm up her spine, found the sweat at the nape of her neck, and held her against me so I could mouth the crest of her collarbone.
She shuddered and ground harder, the angle changing, the length of the toy catching on something that made her eyes roll back.
The pressure inside me, inside her, made my brain white out, like we might come together from doing this to each other.
I licked the drop of sweat that trickled down to her chin, and she made a sound, quiet and high, that got my own heart thumping hard.
"You're going to come before I do," she panted.
"I might."
"Don't."
"God, Romi—"
She shifted, bracing her hands on my chest, and pushed me onto my back, hard. Rode me for real, a slow, nasty roll that got faster with every bounce, her body flexing like she was made to do nothing else but this. The sound of us grinding against each other was lewd and perfect.
I felt her getting close. Caught her breathing getting faster, harder, the start-stop catch in her throat every time she bottomed out.
I reached between us and thumbed her clit, and she bucked so hard she nearly threw us both off the bed.
She was right there, teetering, but she didn't want to go over yet.
I knew the feeling. Wanted to make this last as long as it could.
She rode me. I let her find her own pace, her own pleasure, until I was right there too, about to snap. The toy pressed deep inside me, every thrust shooting heat up my spine, my own pussy clenching tight around the anchor—so slick, so close, I couldn't muffle the whine that broke out of me.
She clocked it instantly. Her smile went sharp and wicked, queen on her throne, in full control. "You like that?" she panted, her voice shredded and hoarse, but in charge.
"Yeah," I gasped, barely holding on, and she hummed before dragging her tongue up my neck, marking me as hers.
She thought she had me. She thought she was running the whole show. God, she was probably right.
Romi's hips kept going, deeper, hungrier, seeking every bit of friction. Her breath was ragged in my ear. "Cam," she panted, "please—turn it on." The sound of her voice made me tighten around the base.
I slipped my hand under the edge of the nightstand, found the switch by touch alone, and flicked it all the way up, to the setting of the staccato stutter beat.
The vibration jolted through us. Romi's whole body jerked, her mouth falling open in a soundless gasp.
Thick thighs crushed my ribcage. For a split second, every ounce of her control shattered—and I was the one holding the reins.
Romi yelped, full out, then slapped a hand over her own mouth to muffle it.
Her pussy clamped down so hard on the toy, and the sensation of it was so deep, my toes curled.
I arched up, digging my nails into her ass, and she jerked forward, body shuddering.
I twisted my hips to up the new pressure, the toy humming a relentless beat between us, and she lost all composure, seeking, collapsing forward so her mouth found my bottom lip. She bit down, hard, then let go to whimper, "You're—God, Cam, fucking me so good—"
My hands fumbled until I grabbed her ass with my other hand, held her in place, and thrust up, slow and deep, letting the vibration do its work.
The sound coming out of her was nothing like the Romi I'd seen on stage, or the one who ran rooms without raising her voice.
This Romi was raw, unguarded, every barrier stripped away by the steady, merciless buzz and my hands locked on her body.
I reached up, cupped her jaw, made her look at me. "Shhh, I know. Let go for me, pretty girl," I breathed, and watched her eyes go wide, then flutter shut. She was still fighting it, trying to hold on to the last bit of control she could reach. The bed creaked underneath us.
My hips sped up and Romi broke apart—clumsy now, breath hitching with every stroke.
Her thighs went taut, her hands clawing at my shoulders, face buried in my neck as she whispered something desperate against my scalp.
I rolled my pelvis, angling the toy so the ridged tip pressed right against her sweet spot, the vibration making her shudder every damn time.
She could only ride out a few thrusts before she let go completely, crying out.
The grip of her around the toy sent a jolt through me.
Every jerk of her hips made the toy rock against my g-spot, the vibration spiking, pleasure shooting up my spine.
The whole world narrowed to the heat between us, her coming against me, the electric shock of being inside her and feeling all of her, all at once.
God, I wanted to keep her right here. Open, clinging to me, all mine.
My fingers dug into her hips, holding her close as the toy kept buzzing between us, grinding us both higher.
Her moans and the way she writhed set me off.
I came right after her, my own body shaking, hips crashing into hers, the passion spilling over so hard it left us both gasping.
We let the pleasure take us, riding out every last wave of it until we finally collapsed, breathless and still.
With a shaky hand, I reached over to the nightstand and turned the toy off, the silence like an unexpected flood.
The afterglow held me for a solid minute, totally dead to the world except for the feel of Romi, warm and perfect on top of me.
Her cheek stuck to my collarbone, her breath hot and quick.
My pulse hammered in my ears, every inch of her skin against mine registering like electricity.
Eventually she rolled off, flopping onto her back with a boneless sigh and a sound that was almost a giggle, except way too spent to get that high.
I reached down and pulled the soaked toy out of me with a wet pop.
Turning my head, I looked at her. She was staring straight up at the ceiling, both arms thrown over her head, the long line of her leg glowing in the hall light. Her chest still fluttered, nipples peaked and shining with sweat. Those parted lips weren't even trying to form words.
I wanted to burn the image into my brain.
She turned toward me, not quite grinning, but so soft I almost didn't recognize her. She reached over, brushed a thumb along my jaw, then let her arm flop over my stomach.
Then she caught me watching her and grinned. Tipped her face toward mine. I tugged her closer, and she came willingly.
"You're trying to ruin me for other girls?" she whispered, not even trying to make it a joke.
I shrugged, or tried to. My biceps felt like they did on arm day. "Is that a problem? I mean if you're not yet, we can try again—"
She made a low, exhausted laugh. "No! Gonna need a whole case of Gatorade trying to keep up with you."
Romi went slack beside me, one arm flung across my waist, both of us catching our breath.
I stared up at the ceiling, skin humming, lyrics half-forming even as my muscles wobbled with aftershocks.
Not those tight, angry bars I used to spit at her.
This was something messier, softer, the kind of shit you only write when you're finally willing to admit what you want.
I glanced over. Romi's lashes fluttered, lips parted, halfway to sleep. And I'm fucking giddy, down bad and half-writing verses in my head about wanting this so badly and finally being hers. She rolled to her side, and I fit against her perfectly.
No doubt about it, this was mutual surrender. The thing I never gave anyone, and she never asked for from anyone. And somehow that made it matter more. Made the lyrics hit different, honest in a way that scared me.
Came for her crown, now I'm down, no defense…
I stopped. Awful flow, clumsy syntax. But, God, what would the internet do if they ever heard that?