My cock—already harder than fucking steel—pops free, slapping against my stomach, and when Cam licks his lips while staring at it, I swear to God, I nearly come on the spot. And that’s before his eyes lock with mine and he leans down, taking just the crown between his lips and giving it a gentle suck.
He wastes no time giving me exactly what I want, bobbing up and down over my shaft like a seasoned pro. My hands fly to his hair to steady myself against his onslaught, already so keyed up by his enthusiasm, I might burst before we can even make it past third base.
“Goddamnit, Cam. Your mouth is like fucking heaven.”
He hums around my length, eyes shimmering with delight when he looks up at me. Desire lights me up from the inside out at his response, and paired with the warm heat of his mouth, it doesn’t take long before my hips start moving upward withsmooth, shallow thrusts.
Of course, the second I start getting any sort of momentum, his hands grab my hips and stop me, creating a mounting sense of frustration alongside my desperate need for him. Especially when I feel his fingers gently pressing over my taint, rubbing there before skimming back to find my crease.
I moan at the first brush of his fingertips over my rim, a whisper of a touch, and the stimulation is too much, yet not nearly enough.
“You want me here, Lo?” he whispers after pulling off me.
I nod vehemently, my desperation clawing at me like a feral animal.
“Yes. God, yes, Please, don’t make me—”
I can’t even get the word out before his hands find my knees, pushing them up toward my chest. I’m completely exposed to him now, the move catching me off guard, only for him to surprise me further when his tongue swipes over my hole.
One, twice. A third time.
My teeth sink into my lip, biting back a moan while he laps at the sensitive bud, the sensation equally erotic and foreign, yet not at all unwelcome. In fact, I want more. Fucking crave it. But I can’t stop the tortured groan that rips from my throat when he spears his tongue past the rim without warning, causing my hips to buck off the bed and my hands to slice into his hair.
“Fuck, baby,”I pant.
I don’t know if I want to squirm away or push back, allowing him to slide in deeper. Not that I have much say in the matter, because one of Cam’s hands anchors on my hip, holding me firmly in place while he continues tormenting me with his wicked prodding.
His other palm slides up around my thigh, finding my cock and giving it a few slow tugs. The doubled stimulation has me groaning more, my breath coming out in harsh, ragged pantsas I arch into his touch. Seeking more pleasure, needing more friction.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I chant as his hand picks up speed.
My need has quickly become too great to withstand much longer, and I know I’m only a few jacks and licks away from exploding. Every molecule in my body is focused on one thing: release. And it’s right there, just out of reach.
Just a few more—
“Ah, baby. I’m gonna come.”
He squeezes my hip in response, only to pull back just as my orgasm was about to crest and crash down around me. A low groan slips out, and I open my eyes to glare daggers at him. Because while I don’t hate him, at this exact moment, I’m really goddamn close to it.
“Why the f—”
“You’re not coming until I can feel you clamping around my cock,” he whispers, only to press a soft kiss to my lips. “Now, grab the lube.”
Twenty-Two
Camden
Logan’s stare becomes downright blistering, two bronze pools of molten lust and desire, as I push off the bed to strip. He watches me the whole time, eyes greedily taking in every inch of skin that’s exposed as I shed my clothing. The only time he looks away is when he pulls his shirt off and leans over to his nightstand to grab the lube, but his gaze finds me again a few seconds later, still burning with need.
My heart thunders behind my ribs with every move I make, and there’s a sharp pain at the back of my throat when he offers me the bottle after crawling back onto the mattress. My fingers tremble ever so slightly as I take it from him, only to stare at it like it’s a foreign object I’ve never seen before.
Part of me can’t believe this is happening—that he still wants me—even after stripping myself bare. After explaining all my reservations and hang ups when it comes to sex, to relationships…tothis. And while those insecurities are far from gone with a single conversation alone, I keep replaying his words in my head, over and over.
“You’re not a night or two. Not to me.”
I’m terrified to put my trust in them, knowing promises like those are so easy to break, but I can’t bring myself to stop thispath we’re barrelling down either. My want for him is too great to resist at this point, manifesting in a bone-deep ache I can’t ignore.
“How do you want me?” Logan whispers, drawing my attention back to him.
