“Babe.” He twists my hair between his fingers. “Stop teasing. Please.”
I chuckle against his skin. “So impatient. But you know I’ll always give you what you need.”
With that, I run my tongue up the underside of his shaft from base to tip before taking him into my mouth. He lets out a guttural moan, his grip on my hair tightening. The slight sting only spurs me on. I hollow my cheeks and suck hard, reveling in the heavy weight of him on my tongue, his musky taste. His hips jerk and I press my forearm across his abs to hold him in place as I find a rhythm, bobbing my head and working what I can’t take with my hand.
“Fuuck, your mouth,” Cam says, his voice shaking. He groans. “So good, babe. Don’t stop.”
I hum around him and he shudders, thighs quaking as he leans back on his arms. I love seeing him lost to pleasure. He’s stunning like this, so open with his desire. My cock throbs almost painfully against my jeans, but I focus on bringing him to the edge.
“Babe, I’m close,” he warns, his words coming between breaths.
I don’t let up, taking him as deep as I can. I want to taste him, to feel him lose control.
“Baabbe!” He stiffens, his back arching as his orgasm crashes over him.
I swallow around him, prolonging his high until he’s spent and panting. It’s only then that I release him, pressing a tender kiss to the soft skin of his groin before straightening.
Cam pulls me into a languid kiss, no doubt tasting himself on my tongue.
“You’re amazing,” he murmurs against my lips. “I love you so damn much.”
“Mmm hmm. Right back at ya.”
He chuckles as he slides from the counter, his hand palming my cock through my jeans. “Looks like it’s my turn to take care of you.”
My breath hitches as Cam strokes me through the rough denim. “Fuck, yes.”
He grins wickedly, nimble fingers making quick work of my button and zipper. Cool air hits my skin as he tugs my jeans and briefs down my hips, freeing my aching cock. I step out of them, kicking them aside.
“Look at you,” Cam murmurs. “All worked up for me.” He wraps a hand around my length, giving a firm stroke from base to tip.
Heat races up my spine and my hips jerk into his touch. “Always,” I manage to gasp out.
He rewards me with another stroke, thumb circling the sensitive head and smearing the bead of moisture there. I groan as I lose myself to the sensation of his hands on me. He knows me so well—knows what I like and how to use it to his advantage.He sets a leisurely pace, working me from root to tip until I’m panting and trembling, desperate for more.
“Cam, please,” I beg, voice strained. I need the heat of his mouth around me.
With a final pump, he sinks to the floor. The wood must be hard under his knees, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He leans forward, hot breath ghosting over my heated skin. I shudder, but I don’t have to wait long. He envelopes me in wet heat.
I drag my sweatshirt over my head and toss it aside, needing to see him better.
He looks up, hazel eyes dark, mouth stretched around me. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly pulls off until just the head rests on his tongue. My legs shake as he swirls his tongue around the tip, dipping into the slit, before sinking back down in one smooth motion. My eyes squeeze shut as I’m engulfed in tight wet heat again.
Cam sets a steady rhythm, taking me deep, then pulling back to lavish attention around my crown. The sensation is almost overwhelming, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in my core.
“Close,” I warn him, my grip on his hair tightening. “Gonna come.”
He doubles his efforts, cheeks hollowing as he sucks hard. A few more pulls and I’m gone, my orgasm crashing over me. My hips jerk as I spill into his mouth. He works me through it until I’m a spent and boneless. I sink to the floor, my back against the cabinets, pulling Cam down to my side.
He slumps against me and when I meet his gaze, he smiles and waggles his brows. “Told you it’s a very good thing you’ve got me around.”
I chuckle, still catching my breath. We’re surrounded by half-packed boxes and discarded clothing. Cam nudges a piece of broken crockery with his socked foot. It’s a mess. We’re a mess.My chuckle turns into a laugh—I love the spontaneity of our relationship.
Cam grins at me and shakes his head as he clamors to his feet and holds out a hand. I allow him to haul me up. I watch as he bends and picks up his sweats, slipping his legs into them and dragging them up his thighs. The waistband rests low on his hips, emphasizing his narrow waist and broad shoulders, and I’m tempted to continue where we left off.
“Uh-huh, no you don’t,” Cam says, as if he can read my mind.
He probably can.
