"Cam, please! I can't take this!" I cried as he did a few shallow thrusts that made me even wetter than I'd been. And then he plunged back inside me. I moaned loudly as I pushed my hips forward to meet the increasing speed of his thrusts and he pulled back and plunged in again and again.
Soon we were moving together, pushing each other closer and closer toward the edge as we ran our hands over bare skin and shared brutal kisses. I wanted to take him all the way inside me and his pounding rhythm matched my own need. It wasn't long before I felt the wave of orgasm begin to flow, and I screamed into Cam's lips as I climaxed. He wasn't far behind, and I felt his body tense as he joined me.
"Are you okay?" Cam whispered as we both caught our breath.
"Mmm hmm." I nodded as I clung to him tightly. He wrapped his arms around me and lifted me off of the hall table, carrying me to the bedroom where he laid me down.
"Be right back," he said, making a beeline for the bathroom.
When he returned, he lay down next to me and pulled the covers up over us both before pulling me to him. I lay there wondering what to say as he rested his chin on my head and slowly stroked my hair.
"That was intense," he said. "You sure you're okay? You haven't said a word."
"I'm speechless," I said, tilting my head to look up at him. "You're something else."
"Alex, what happened to your parents?" he asked out of the blue. "You started to tell me, but you shut down, and I really want to know. I mean, if you want to tell me."
"Oh, man, that's something I hate talking about," I admitted. "It's a total downer, I'm not kidding. I never met my father. When I was nursing my mother, I tried to ask her about him, but all she ever said was that he was an asshole rich kid. I’m sure that he probably had his good points, but she was an angry woman who resented her entire life."
"I'm not pushing," he said, backing off a bit. I appreciated the space, but something made me want to tell him the whole sordid story.
"My mom was a poor girl from the South Side," I began. "And my dad was a rich Gold Coast kid with a nasty drug problem. That should probably say it all."
"I see." Cam nodded as he squeezed me a little tighter.
"No, I don't think you do," I said, bristling at the possibility of pity. "She fell for him. He loved her and drugs, in that order. They started using together, she got pregnant and had me. They neglected me, and Social Services intervened. Years later, she got clean and had a career as a nurse, but she never let go of the anger and resentment she felt. She had wanted the kind of life my father’s money could have bought, and when she didn’t get it, she was furious."
“What about your dad?” he asked. “Didn’t you ever want to meet him or his family?”
“His family disowned him after he got my mother pregnant, and he overdosed in an abandoned building on the North Side a few years after I was born.” I shrugged. “It took me a long time to make peace with the fact that he didn’t care about us enough to get clean.”
"What about family?" Cam asked.
"What about it?" I said defensively. "Her family was poor and struggling and his didn't want anything to do with a bastard child of a drug abuser. I became a ward of the state at two, bounced around from foster home to foster home until I was placed with my mother, but by the time I was sixteen, I’d filed to become an emancipated minor. I took the money from the state and got a room in a boarding house and finished high school. I was smart and made sure I got a full ride when I applied to college. I failed the first year, but then I figured out how to access the resources I needed and asked for another chance. I'll graduate in June and be on my own with a good job. End of story."
"Don't you want to know more about your family?" he asked as he twirled a lock of hair around one of his fingers.
"Not really," I said. "My mother's family has made it clear that they have no interest in me, and my father's family has kept a safe distance for many years, even though they really could have pulled me out of the system at any time. I blame them the most; they could have changed things, but they chose not to. That's the reality of rich folks: they can do a lot, but they choose to ignore everything."
"Is that what you think about rich people or just your father's family?" Cam asked.
"I think there are probably a lot of rich people with good intentions," I said. "But you know what they say about the road to hell."
"Wow, that's tough," he said, shaking his head. "What would you do if your father's family came and tried to help you now?"
"I'd tell them to go to hell," I said without missing beat. "They aren't my family and I certainly don't need their money now. Money just screws everything up."
"I see," he said as he went silent. "All money? Or just your father's money?"
"Pretty much all money," I said. "It does something to people. I don't know, it's just my feeling. I mean, look at your friend, Violet."
"She's not my friend," he said. "I told you, I don't know her. I'd never met her before she accosted me at the hospital. I know her father through a friend."
"I'm know, I'm sorry," I said, backing away from the accusation. "I'm just saying that she and her friends all come from money and they are some of the nastiest girls I've ever met. They're just mean and vicious to everyone, and they're so concerned with keeping up appearances."
"But that can't be representative of all people with money," he said, pushing his point.
"Why? What are you trying to tell me?" I said defensively. "I'm just saying it's been my experience that people with money tend not to be very nice or caring."