"Harder!" I scream, voice cracking with the kind of need that makes my skin prickle.
Cameron is no longer afraid of his own body, and that means he moves me however he wants. Tosses me, pins me, drags me to exactly where he wants me.
"If I go any harder, this will be the third bed we’re breaking," he rasps, one fist in my hair, tugging until my spine curves back against his chest. My head falls against his shoulder, my mouth open on a pant, and I swear my knees might give out if he let me go.
"Now you know why we do it outdoors," I manage between breaths, smirking even as my pulse hammers.
His mouth finds my neck, slow kisses that contrast brutally with the way his hips still work into me. "Can’t exactly do that here," he murmurs, teeth grazing my skin, "unless we want the front page of every paper in the city."
"Such a shame," I purr, "because I want to feel you for hours. Even with the healing—I want you to take away my ability to walk."
My nails rake over the back of his hand as he squeezes my breast harder, fingers pinching my nipple until I gasp.
"I want to remember you in every step, every breath."
That gets him. Exactly as expected, I rile him up, and he growls—low, feral.
She and I are in agreement, because he pulls out, flips me like a goddamn pancake, drags my legs open, and pins me there as if daring the world to try and take me from him.
And then—he gives me exactly what I need.
Not gentle. Not slow. But deep, punishing, claiming strokes that make my back arch and my hands clutch at the sheets until they tear.
What I need is for him to take me —without hesitation, without mercy—because when Cameron lets go, when he stops holding himself back, I feel every ounce of what I mean to him.
I look at him through the haze of sensation, my breath catching he’s so handsome —wild, flushed, jaw tight, eyes locked on me as if I’m the only thing that exists.
He carries me to the shower because my legs are jelly—utterly useless. He really did a number on me.
This bathroom is easily twice the size of our entire cabin bedroom, with its marble floors, floor-to-ceiling mirror, a tub that could fit a small pack, and a glass-walled shower that looks like it belongs in a luxury magazine. The steam already starts to curl in the air as he walks in with me in his arms, his scent surrounding me, drowning me in him.
He sets me down gently, and the moment my feet touch the warm tile, I feel it—his cum sliding thick and hot down my thighs.
I glance down, then lazily trail my fingers to gather it, bringing them to my lips, but his hand shoots out, catching my wrist midair. His eyes narrow.
"Behave." His voice is low, a warning wrapped in amusement.
I stand there like a human-sized doll as Cameron moves around me, turning the water on until it runs hot, steam curling around us. The moment it hits my skin, I melt—pliable, boneless. I feel like I’m buzzing from the inside out, a deep, liquid heat thrumming through me, but all I can do is let him take care of me.
He works in slow, deliberate motions, running his hands over my shoulders, down my arms, over my stomach, soaping and rinsing me as if I might break. Then he drops to his knees before me, the heat of the water slicking both of us, his big hands pressing gently to the inside of my thighs.
"You’re swollen," he murmurs, and starts to clean me there.
I pout, watching him work. "Sad. I wanted to leave it in me."
He glances up at me with a look that could undo me all over again.
"Hmmmnnn..." It’s all I can manage, my voice soft and unfocused.
"This is what you wanted, isn’t it?" he asks, standing again and rinsing away the last of the suds.
"Yeah..." I breathe, leaning forward, wrapping my arms around his neck. "I’ll be fine by morning, unfortunately."
His brow furrows like he’s already making plans to make sure I’m not.
"What are you doing?" he asks as I press my body to his.
"Nothing," I answer, and then gasp as he guides me against the warm tile, lifting one leg high around his hip and sliding into me in one deep thrust.
It hurts. It’s perfect. It’s exactly what I wanted.
I lie sprawled on his chest, eyes heavy, drifting toward sleep, his steady heartbeat lulling me.
"Tomorrow," Cameron murmurs, his hand warm against the small of my back, "Simone will come pick you up and we’ll head to the airport."
My eyes remain half-closed. "Why?"
"We’re leaving the country."
That wakes me up instantly. I sit up, pushing against his chest, staring down at him. "What?"
"We’re leaving," he repeats simply—like it’s the most casual thing in the world—his gaze dropping to my chest. His hand starts to wander toward one of my boobs, and I swat it away.
He only stretches lazily, one arm behind his head so his bicep flexes, his blue eyes catching the low light, his dark hair falling into them. Then he flashes that boyish, troublemaker smile.
"Don’t distract me with your looks. Why are we leaving the country?" I demand.
"I didn’t even do anything," he says in mock offense, capturing my hand in his other one and lacing our fingers together.
"I want to take you somewhere," he says after a beat. "...I guess Ronan can follow too."
He smirks. "Now, it wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you." He tugs me down until my face hovers just above his.
"I don’t know... I’ve never been on a plane." My voice comes out smaller, betraying my nerves.
"It’s okay. I’ll be with you." His thumb strokes the back of my hand. "Just trust me and come with me tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay," I whisper, and he kisses my nose.
It’s funny—sometimes we do the most outrageous, indecent things in bed, but what melts me completely are moments .