How long had it taken? How long had I been able to take his presence right there in the bed next to me before I had snapped? My entire body was in flames. Lying there in the dark, I had felt bold, confident that he had come to the bed and hadn't rejected me. When I felt him touch me, I hadn't been able to resist. It all bubbled up, everything we, at least I, had been trying to tamp down.
The sounds he made between my legs were obscene. The scruff on his cheeks rasped against the smooth skin of my inner thighs. His tongue lashed against my clit. I couldn't move. His arms held my hips down. Nothing from my imagination had come close to the reality of him. My body soared. I was helpless against the coming wave when it crashed. I cried out as it washed over me, radiating out from my core through my entire body.
He kissed the inside of one of my thighs, moving up my body. I felt his lips on my stomach, my chest and then my mouth. He kissed me hungrily. He groaned as our tongues danced. I grabbed at his sweater; I wanted it gone. I wanted to touch him. I ached to. It wasn't enough yet. Not until I pushed him over the edge too.
"Take this off," I whispered. He raised himself off of me, sitting up on his knees. I saw the silhouette of him in the dark, pulling his sweater off over his head. I wished I could see him, really see him, but there wasn’t enough light. He took the rest of his clothes off and got back between my thighs. I ran my hands over his shoulders and back shamelessly. Warm skin pulled over rock-hard muscle. I was already aching for him to touch me again, greedy.
Speaking of rock hard, he was ready. I reached my hand down between our bodies as he kissed me and felt his arousal.
"Fuck," he said under his breath. My fingers ran over his sensitive crown, down his length to his balls. "Natalie, I'm clean. I swear, but I don't have protection."
"It's okay," I said hastily, pressing the head of his cock against my opening. "Just don't cum inside m
e."
"Natalie—”
"Please, Cameron. I want you," I begged. He responded by driving powerfully into me, hilting himself in one savage thrust. I cried out, a mixture of shock and pleasure. My lips stretched to accommodate him. The sudden invasion of fullness was delicious. His weight on top of me and hard length inside me were perfect.
"Again," he said. He took my arms by the wrists and held them together on the pillow above my head, held fast in one of his hands. "Say it again. Beg me."
"Please, Cameron," I said. He thrust into me, long and steady. I closed my eyes. It was ecstasy. Pleasure coursed through me like electricity. I whispered, begging him not to stop. I was a mess, writhing and wanton beneath him. Desperate for my release but relishing his intimate contact. He kissed my neck, rolled my nipples between his fingers, and found every trigger point on my body that made me squirm.
I balled my fists, wishing I could touch him. I felt the familiar rise in my core and fought it as hard as I could. Not yet. I wanted more. I wanted everything at once. I whimpered, getting closer and closer, ‘til it hit. I cried out, arching my back. Spasms shot through me. He said something; I heard his voice but not his words. I felt him though. His thrusts became faster, erratic. He released my trapped wrists and held his weight up on his hands.
"Natalie, I'm going to come," he said. His voice was thick with strain. He pulled out of me suddenly and cursed, groaning as he spilled his load on my lower stomach. He panted, leaning back down and kissing me. One of his hands ran through my hair, over my forehead, unsticking the strands that had gotten caught there because I was sweating. We were silent then for a few moments. He was on his side next to me, I listened to his breathing slow and finally normalize. One of his arms was casually thrown over my waist. He tightened it when I tried to move.
"You're not asleep?"
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"The bathroom. I'll be right back," I told him. The bed and our body heat had kept me from realizing how cold it was without my clothes on. I hurried down to the bathroom in the dark; the light when I turned it on hurt my eyes briefly before I adjusted to it. I caught my reflection in the mirror, and my stomach dropped. Nobody would have to ask what I had been up to that night. The evidence was right there, painted on my belly. We were both adults. This hadn't been anyone's first time doing anything. I was alone in the bathroom but felt guilt all of a sudden, like someone was watching me. I quickly cleaned myself off.
Suddenly, it wasn't hot; it wasn't passionate and sexy. It was lewd. I felt shameful. What the hell had I just done? Invited a man to my bed and thrown myself at him. And not just any man. The guilt washing over me wouldn't have been half as bad if it had been anyone else, but this was Cameron.
Your dead boss' son; how did it feel, slut?
I cursed, running my hands through my hair. What have I done? You stupid bitch, what did you just do?
A knock on the door startled me.
"You okay, Nat?" he asked. I opened it up a tiny bit and saw Cameron, shirtless. My eyes nearly bulged out of my head. He had tattoos. Not just one or two either. His left arm was covered from shoulder to the middle of his forearm, and the ink continued across his chest. His long-sleeved dress shirts and jackets at work had always kept them covered and here, all the sweaters and winter clothes had.
There was enough light to finally see the defined, hard muscles I had felt in the bed earlier. He really is beautiful, I thought, making the guilt worse. There was probably an entire legion of women and honestly, a lot of men too who would have killed to take a bite out of Cameron Porter, people who actually deserved that body, that sweet, kind nature. People who wouldn’t have tried to seduce him weeks after he had lost his parents.
Fuck.
“Sorry, did you want to come in?” I asked.
He held my clothes out to me. "I made some hot cocoa; I thought you might want these." I took them, thanking him.
"I'll be right out," I said weakly, closing the door again. I dressed, cursing. Make it worse by being sweet to me after instead of just rolling over and going to sleep, I thought irrationally. The guy you just threw yourself at is actually sweet; congratulations, bitch. He’s been through hell these past few weeks, but just made you hot cocoa after giving you not one, but two earth-shattering orgasms. He wasn't the one who was wrong here. I was, and I couldn't be mad at him for being a decent guy who cared enough to look a girl in the eye again after fucking her.
Fuck me. Fuck everything.
I walked out. The kitchen light was on, and the fire was roaring in the fireplace with newly placed logs.
"Hey," he said, getting up from the couch and walking over to me. He cupped my face so I had to look up at him. "Is everything okay?" He was still shirtless, and it was a little distracting, but I nodded my head, swallowing. He kissed me, searching my face. His hazel eyes were worried. Lines creased his forehead.