"I'll take that," she said to me, holding her hand out to take my dirty dishes. The fire had begun to die down; it was around nine already. We had lost track of time.
"Just toss them in the sink," I said to her.
"No, I'll take care of them. I made half the mess anyway," she said, taking them into the kitchen. I went over to the fireplace and fed the flame some more logs to keep it going.
I had missed this, having her around. It wasn't lost on me how domestic this whole scene was. What surprised me was how much I liked it. I had never lived with women I had dated in the past, but maybe I just hadn't found the one that I actually wanted to share my space with. Natalie and I weren't dating, but she and I had shared practically as much if not more than I had with women I had dated in the past anyway.
I wanted to be with her when she wasn't. I thought about her when she was gone. She was here now, but she couldn't stay, and I hated that I'd have to watch her leave again. The space between here and her home felt like too far. I thought I liked being alone, but I liked being alone together. As long as she was here, it didn't matter that we weren't talking, and I didn't feel pressure to fill the silence when it happened.
I had known that there was something between us watching her leave Friday. If I had to let her go again, I'd only be able to knowing it wouldn't be the last time that I saw her. I stood and walked over to her in the kitchen. Her sweater was off-white, her hair fell down over her shoulders. It was as silky as it looked. I touched her waist, wrapping her in my arms, burying my face in her hair. She smelled like vanilla. She froze feeling me behind her, turning the water off.
She turned, looking up at me. I kissed her before she said it, started asking questions and talking herself out of what she wanted to do. She turned to putty in my arms. It didn't matter what she said; I knew what she wanted, and it was the same thing I did. Her hands were still wet from doing the dishes when I felt them on my stomach, under my sweater, fumbling to get my pants unlatched.
As far as I was concerned, this was why she had come back. We weren't done with each other yet. A false start the week before didn't mean I wanted her any less, or anything had changed. I could have spent every night last week like this with her. Whatever had been holding her back then was gone now, and I was making it count.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Natalie
His hand was in my hair, which he had gripped in his fist. We, well, he was on the couch. I was on the floor where his pants had ended up. I looked up at him, but he wasn't looking at me. His head was thrown back. His chest heaved, and the muscles in his legs felt tight under my hand. He groaned as I sucked one of his balls into my mouth, jerking him off with my hand. He shuddered, letting out a strangled breath.
I turned my attention to the other one, and it happened again, another deep sexy sound from deep in his chest. This wasn't like the first night we had been together; for one thing, I could see him now. We were right in front of the fire. I could feel it behind me as I sucked Cameron off. He hadn't let me do this to him that night. We had been in more of a hurry, but now, I was in charge.
His fist in my hair tightened, pulling it at the roots when I fed his length inch by inch into my throat. I looked up at him and caught his eyes, heavy-lidded and watching me.
"That's right," he whispered. "Deeper." Any deeper, and I was scared I'd choke. His tool was as big as it felt. I used one of my hands to hold him at the root as I bobbed up and down. My hand didn't even get all the way around him. It didn't matter that he hadn't even done anything but kiss me yet; I was wet. Soaked. Aching so much it was almost all I could think about.
He hissed as I swallowed and moved my attention to right at the head. He tugged my hair again.
"Slow down," he said. His salty precum was already coating my tongue. He cursed as I sucked the head of his cock, teasing him. "Come here," he said, pulling me gently away from his cock so I was looking up at him.
"You sure you don't want me to finish down here?" I asked, stroking him.
"Don't worry, princess. We'll have plenty of time to fill that pretty mouth," he said, running his thumb over my lower lip. I felt a flood from my other lower lips, responding to his filthy words. It was clear by now that whatever had been there in the past was gone. I wasn't cowering from him, and he wasn't holding back. We were going for it. We were doing everything we could have been doing days ago, snowed in here together. I wasn't telling myself or him no again.
I slowly rose and started stripping. He watched me, slowly running his hand up and down his shaft as I pulled my pants down my legs and stepped out of them. I did my panties next. His hazel gaze was sharp, watching my every move. I felt sexy, knowing how much he wanted me, having a good idea already what he was like when he got that way.
I climbed onto the couch when I was naked and straddled him. We kissed, hungry and urgent as I tugged at the remainder of his clothes, wanting nothing between us this time. I touched him, running my fingers along the inked lines I hadn't seen before. His hands squeezed my ass as he ground our hips together. I reached a hand down and guided him to my lips. He thrust his way inside with a deep groan.
"Yes," I sighed. He was perfect. My body was screaming for him. His hands on my hips controlled
my speed. He bit and sucked my nipples as we rocked together on the couch. I threaded my fingers through his light brown, wavy locks, lost myself in the electric connection between us. His hands kneaded my ass, leaving hot trails on my skin. This was reckless, but I didn't care. It was real, raw. I couldn't say what Cameron Porter did to me. All I knew was I wanted him, more than was safe and more than just this. When he fucked me, it was explosive, but the man he was was incredible.
My emotions were reeling and my orgasm building at the same time. Above him where I was, he hit all those sensitive buttons just right. Gripping a fistful of Cameron's hair, I screamed, surrendering to it. His hands tightened around my waist holding me steady as it quaked through me. That was all the encouragement he needed to speed up his pace. He held my hips steady and thrust up into me from below, each push hitting me like a bullet. I braced my weight on the back of the couch.
"I'm going to come," he said. "Where do you want it?"
"Come inside me. Fill me up." His arm wrapped around me, and in a flash, I was on my back. He sunk into me, pounding me while his weight pinned me to the couch. A few powerful thrusts were all it took for him to explode. He swore, groaning as he pumped through his orgasm.
He stopped me when I tried to get up.
"Cameron, I need to go to the bathroom," I told him. He did too. We ended up in the shower, together after he offered to help me get cleaned off. Braced against the shower wall, he had fucked me again while the hot water rained down on us.
"Come to bed," he said to me where he was between the sheets already. I was rifling through my bag, looking for my hairdryer.
"I have to take care of my hair first," I said.
"Don't,” he said, "I like it when you let it air dry." I looked over my shoulder at him.