Elijah held on for as long as he could, but all too soon the heaviness in his sac became too much to bear as the buzz of release spread through every nerve in his body. He leaned down, the warm heat of Camden’s climax painting his belly as he pressed his lips to Camden’s mouth. The kiss was brutal, as was the pounding Elijah’s need for completion insisted on.
Elijah knew he would pay for the abuse he was leveling on his injured thigh. He was healed, but there was a fine line between exercise and overuse of a muscle. If he’d been thinking straight, he’d have had Camden riding him to his climax, but having Camden spread open underneath him was too tempting an opportunity to pass up.
Everything about this moment, from the way Camden still grappled through the throes of his own climax to the zing of pleasure that spread through Elijah every time his balls slapped the crack of Camden’s ass, reinforced Elijah’s inkling that rational thought didn’t exist in this scenario.
There was no way it made any sense that having every inch of his cock buried in Camden would feel better than any breath he’d taken in the last five years, including those first ones off of the ventilator after his attack. There was no way Elijah’s body should feel more alive than he’d ever been, but simultaneously weaker, more vulnerable than when those hopped-up tweakers tried to stomp the life out of him. How could the simple act of connecting his body with Camden’s accomplish such harmony and chaos at the same time?
When Elijah’s hips slammed against Camden’s ass one last time, as his body seized, and he lost the will to hold back what he knew would be the best nut he’d ever experienced—including the ones Camden had torn from him during their one night together—Elijah realized there was only one reason any of this could be.
Elijah buried his mouth into the curve of Camden’s neck and roared as his release took control of him. If they were in his bedroom, Elijah might’ve been concerned about his mama knowing what naughty things her boy was up to. But here, within the walls of his safe space, his haven, he let go of all the frustration that settled in his chest. He let go of all the pain and misunderstandings that had kept a wedge between him and Camden all of these years. He allowed the joy of this moment to wash over him and pull him into the sheer bliss of having what his heart had always wanted. Camden.
When Camden’s arms cradled him into a strong embrace, he dropped his head on Camden’s shoulder and nearly sobbed as he tried to draw in his next breath. This place, in the center of Camden’s embrace, was always where Elijah was meant to be.
Now, he just needed to convince Camden of that.
Chapter Nineteen
“TELLme about your father.”
Camden was still half-buzzed from his orgasm, drifting somewhere between sleep and wakefulness as Elijah spooned him from behind. He could’ve sworn Elijah mentioned something about his father, but with the way Elijah’s spent cock rested in the slit of his ass, Camden was too distracted to swear to his own name, let alone the subject of Elijah’s question.
“Sorry, didn’t catch that.” Camden looked over his shoulder to find Elijah’s waiting mouth and smiled as he thought of the pleasure it had wrung from him only a handful of moments ago. “What were you asking?”
Elijah tightened the arm he had draped over Camden’s bare abdomen and pulled him closer. The solid wall of man pressed against Camden’s body was reassuring and comforting like a human body pillow customized specifically for him. Their first night together, there hadn’t been any intimate moments of pillow talk. There was just desperate coupling and the exhausted oblivion of postcoital sleep.
“Your dad,” Elijah responded. “What’s he like?”
Camden took a deep breath before speaking. There were so many ways he could answer that question. There were moments as both a child and an adult that Camden could see how much his father cared for him. He’d always been Camden’s greatest cheerleader. Whether it was Camden reciting his lines in a school play or graduating from an Ivy League law school at the top of his class, Michael Warren had pushed his only son to be the best at everything he endeavored. But all of his drive to make Camden perfect at everything often made Camden wonder if his dad pushed him so hard because he doubted Camden’s abilities.
“He believes in service. He believes serving in any public capacity is the highest honor any man or woman can hold.”
“That sounds admirable.” Elijah dropped a quick kiss on Camden’s shoulder. “My dad feels the same.”
Camden shook his head. These last few days he’d spent in Walter Stephenson’s presence showed him the man believed in his boys. He believed in their decisions and their life choices.
Camden was a man well over thirty, and his father didn’t seem to think Camden could tie his shoelaces without the older man’s guidance.
“Trust me, Elijah, your father might believe in service, but he doesn’t appear to demand you serve in the ways he deems appropriate.”
“I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”
“Let me ask you this. Did you become a cop because your dad demanded it?”
“No.” Elijah’s answer was quick and succinct. If asked, Camden knew he couldn’t respond in the same manner. “I became one because I wanted to work from the inside to build better relations between my community and the police. I hated seeing how communities like mine were being labeled as wastelands because of criminal activity. I hated that the media and often law enforcement seemed to forget that there were good, hardworking people in Brooklyn who deserved their protection and dedication. My father was happy about my choosing to go into the academy, but it was never a requirement.”
“You’re lucky to have been given the choice.” Elijah must’ve heard the tiny hitch of regret in Camden’s voice, because he rose up on his elbow and pulled at Camden’s shoulder until Camden turned around and faced him.
“What do you mean by being given the choice, Camden?”
Camden took a deep breath before answering. He’d done his best to not think too much about the path he’d taken into his current career. Dissecting the intricate methods his father used to get Camden to this exact position took more energy than Camden had to spare.
“My father never asked me what I wanted to be. He simply told me where I’d be going to school and what I’d be studying. I think his words were something like, ‘Unless you have a way to pay for it, you’ll study what I tell you to.’”
“So, you wouldn’t have become a lawyer, a prosecutor, without him pushing you?”
Camden didn’t know the answer to Elijah’s question. He was a damn good prosecutor; knowing the answers to questions and how best to respond to those questions was a large part of his job. One would think a simple inquiry like this wouldn’t take much effort on Camden’s part. Yet, while Elijah waited for him to reply, Camden ached for someone else to hand him the answer, like a contestant on one of those game shows where he needed to phone a friend.
“There’s no easy way to answer that. I’m good at what I do. I enjoy it. Now, I don’t know if that’s because he forced me onto this path, or if it was because I’m a natural. I just know this life, this plan, is all I’ve ever had.”
