Chapter 12
He hadn’t anticipated how much this would destroy him. He’d known it would be sexy, that being so close to Cami naked—mostly naked—would get him going, but he was hard enough to pound nails.
With his hands at his sides and no toys in his grasp, it was easier for Des to settle down.
He fisted his fingers against his thighs to keep from reaching for her as Cami came back to herself.
With the force of the orgasm, her knees had fallen apart, and she was still splayed open for him to look his fill.
It was an immense struggle not to. He needed to be careful not to cross any lines if he ever wanted to do this again.
Voice thin, Cami said, “Shit.”
Pride flooded his veins, replacing the blood that had detoured to his stubborn cock. “So you do swear.” He laughed as he reached for the glass of water she’d set aside, and when she struggled into a sitting position, he passed it to her. With a thankful tip of her glass, she drank.
“Do you need a break before we go again?” His voice was raspy. He was hard and aching within the confines of his jeans, the unforgiving denim harsh on his dick. Going commando for this was a mistake.
Her warm brown eyes, glossy with satisfaction, trailed over the unused toys he’d laid out.
Her tongue darted out to wet her lower lip, and he narrowed in on it with hyper-focus.
He’d thought he wanted her bad before, but now, with her half-naked and spread for him, he’d kill to find out what else her tongue could do.
Hell, at this point, he’d kill for just a kiss.
“No,” she said, “I don’t need a break. What’s next?”
“Really?” Every woman he’d been with had begged off repeat rounds for at least a half hour after the first, usually on the grounds of oversensitivity. But hey, if Cami was down, he was more than happy to oblige her.
“It didn’t work.”
It took several beats for him to understand what she meant. The words hit his ears, but all he processed was the laxness of her posture. Not satisfaction, but defeat. The sheen to her eyes wasn’t post-orgasm gratification, it was disappointment. She hadn’t come. “Oh.”
“It’s not your fault,” she added hurriedly. “I was afraid this would happen.”
“You were afraid I couldn’t get you off?” He wasn’t sure if he was more baffled or offended.
Her lips pursed, and she shot him an irritated glance, shifting into a sitting position and drawing her legs together. “I’ve never come before.”
He blinked. “Right. You’ve never gotten off by yourself.”
“No, I’ve never gotten off. Ever,” she snapped. Her cheeks were pink, but with embarrassment or annoyance?
Oh.
Oh.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to rub it in.” He shifted back to give her some space. “Just trying to get the lay of the land.”
She sighed, pulling the comforter of his bed over her lap to shield her nakedness. “It’s not your fault. I don’t mean to be a jerk about it. I’m just frustrated and embarrassed.”
“You don’t need to be. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I just—” She finished her water. “It’s stupid, but I hoped using toys would just magically fix it. Fix…me.”
“Wait—” He blinked. The lull in the action had let some of the urgency out of his erection, but he still pulsed with need for her. It made following her logic a trial. “Why would you need to be fixed?”
“I can’t come, Des. I’m broken.” She rubbed her temple, like talking about it was giving her a headache.
She faced him, her eyes shining with a new desperation.
“I’ve tried all sorts of things, a million different times.
Nothing’s worked. Toys were the only thing I hadn’t tried. If they can’t help me, nothing can.”
He couldn’t grasp how frustrating this must be for her. He’d never had any problem getting off, but he could imagine how the confusion of not managing once could turn into certainty that it would never happen. Trying again and again, only to stop when you were numb, and your wrist ached.
He laid the toys aside and shifted to the edge of the bed to sit next to her.
“Cami,” he said, striving for the sincerity the situation required, “you’re not broken.
I guarantee that. Lots of people have problems achieving orgasm, especially women.
Maybe you just haven’t figured out what you like yet. ”
“I did like that.” She flushed. “I liked it a lot. I think I was almost there, but…I don’t know. It’s like I missed it.”
“That’s great. That means we were on the right track.
” He didn’t want to cross any boundaries by touching her, but he longed to pull her to him and cradle her until that despondent look left her face.
“Maybe you just need a different kind of stimulation. Or maybe you’ve just gotten so into your own head about it, you’re psyching yourself out.
But I promise you, Cami, you can come, and, if you still want to try, I’d love to help you do it. ”
“Really?” She peered at him, hesitant in a way that made him certain she doubted it would work.
“Really.” He covered his heart with one hand. “If it takes me the next three years, Camille Sullivan, I will get you off.”
Her lips twitched like she was fighting a smirk. “At least you’re dedicated,” she said, and when he gestured to her, laid back on his bed.
It took every ounce of self-discipline he possessed to reach for the mini Hitachi instead of her.
His fingertips itched to touch her, to feel if she was still wet from the first round.
For now, he’d have to satisfy himself with the cool plastic shaft, atop which sat a bulbous knob that vibrated at various speeds.
He depressed the control button once, and it buzzed on its lowest setting.
“We’ll start slow.”
What may have been protest flickered across her face, but she stayed silent, watching as he brought the vibrator up and laid the bulb against her bare calf. Her only response was a soft inhale.
Des glided the bulb around her skin, letting it massage away any lingering tension. She melted into his mattress. Something clenched in his chest at the sight of her sweat-damp blonde hair spread over his pillow. Cardiac arrhythmia? He smirked. He should see a doctor.
“Will you turn over?” Normally, he would have phrased it as a command, not a question, but theirs was an odd situation, and he wasn’t sure how she would react to a little dominance.
She’d chosen to keep her shirt on, after all.
This wasn’t supposed to be intimate, and while he enjoyed being bossy in bed, he wasn’t fucking her. Not in the strictest sense of the word.
He couldn’t help but be a bit surprised—and a lot gratified—when she acquiesced after only a brief hesitation. When she was face-down on the bed, a pillow tucked under her hips, he slotted his knee between her thighs and leaned over her. The Hitachi vibrated impatiently in his hand.
He looked down. Her ass was bare and pale in the over-saturated lamplight, full and round and begging for his hands. His teeth. His tongue. He bet he could get her off with his tongue.
He groaned. He was a goner.
Her brain processed the noise Des made, but she could only manage a half-heartedly prompting ‘hm?’ in response, too blissed out from the gentle but insistent vibrations massaging her.
If he said anything after that, she didn’t hear him.
He slid the wand up her back, following her spine up to the curve of her shoulder blade.
This time it was she who groaned, toes curling as tension evaporated from her muscles. “This is my kind of toy,” she mumbled into his pillow, shoulders rolling against the vibrations coursing through her body.
Just relax. Des was probably right. She got too in her own head and psyched herself out. She just needed to go with the flow, like she had that night on the phone with him. She could do this. She could let the feelings take over.
The stimulation of the massage seemed to ignite her blood within her, so much that she felt feverish as he worked the vibrator along her body.
Her fingers flinched toward the hem of her shirt, acting on instinct rather than instruction.
He dragged the bulb upward to the back of her neck, tracing the edge of her spine, and her fingers twitched again.
Then, when he pushed the vibe into the muscle where her neck met her shoulder, she moaned again, and her hand clasped the edge of her tee.
She wriggled against his mattress as she worked the shirt up over her ribcage, then her breasts.
With some difficulty, not alleviated by his continued pressure with the Hitachi, she maneuvered the shirt over her head and tossed it.
A whispering followed as it brushed the lamp and settled somewhere on the floor.
Des didn’t react. He just traced the vibe along the back strap of her bra.
“Des,” she whined, burying her face back into his pillow. The scent of his shampoo filled her lungs. “Unhook me. It’s too hot in here.”
She could hear him breathing as one warm finger slid under the band of lace that encircled her ribcage. There was a quick pinch, and relief as the band slumped around her. Then his big, warm hand was gone.
A sigh of disappointment escaped her as she pulled the bra out from under her and tossed it away. Her skin was still flush and desperate for his touch, off-limits though it was. She clutched his pillow and inhaled again.
Des dragged the Hitachi down her back, over her ass, and between her legs.
The sound she made was unlike any she’d made before.
She couldn’t have replicated it for all the money in the world.
It was animalistic, primal and passionate.
The steady massage combined with the heat friction of the vibration made her feel as though her core had been replaced with lava.
She could identify no individual body parts. She was only hot, molten need.
He was relentless, working the bulb against her clit and maintaining pressure even when her hips bucked. She couldn’t help it. Her fingers scrambled for purchase against his bedspread. She tossed her tangled, sweaty hair back.
She didn’t know what possessed him to do it, but Des, the genius, dipped the vibrating bulb away from her clit and pressed it against her opening, where she was slick and wanting.
It was too big to slip inside, but damn, she wanted it.
The pressure was so deliciously sweet, she couldn’t help but ride against the thick, bulbous head, wishing to God it was the head of his cock instead.
There was a distant click as Des nudged the wand into its second speed setting, and then Cami’s world fell apart.
Taste, sight, sound, and smell—all of her senses shorted out, except for one: touch.
She could only feel. Every inch of her body clenched and held taut as the orgasm gripped her in suspended animation.
It dragged in the most exquisite way, Des refusing to move until she couldn’t hold it any longer.
She couldn’t breathe until the final rolling peak of it slipped away like the final satisfying notes of a heartbreaking song.
She collapsed against his mattress, and the vibrations ceased.
There was rustling behind her. Des was moving. “Oh my God,” she said, and it was only when she hiccupped in a sob that she realized she was crying. Her entire body had turned to mush, and the only part that still worked was her tear ducts. She laughed.
“Did it work?” he asked. The excitement in his voice suggested he already knew the answer. “Did you come?”
She peeked up at him through her wet lashes and tried to smile. Her mouth felt mushy, like not even her jaw muscles worked properly anymore. “Yeah. Sorry—I’m not upset. I have no idea why I’m crying.”
She did, though. She felt as though a cold, weighty mass inside of her had disintegrated away. The part that weighed her down was gone. She was crying because she wasn’t broken.
He sat gingerly on the edge of the mattress and laid the vibrator aside.
“It’s okay. I imagine it’s a lot to process.
” Despite his sympathy, his grin oozed primal male satisfaction.
It was an extremely good look for him. “Do you want that break now? Or we could call it quits for the night, if you’ve had enough. ”
She inhaled. “No.” Her muscles were starting to feel more in her own control, and her tears had stopped. She rolled over to face him. “Let’s go again. What else you got in your bag of tricks?”
Her shirt and bra were gone, she remembered belatedly as his sparkling gray eyes dropped to her nipples. They pebbled under his gaze, still flushed from her orgasm, but she didn’t have the will to be embarrassed.
His eyes pulled back up to hers as he smirked. “Let’s find out.”