by Sunniva Dee
“You like it, hmm? You like me?” he asks—about his dick or about himself, I don’t know.
“Crap,” I say. “Goddamn… shush.” I don’t have any control after all. I really am so easy right now. I’m on the brink, swallowed by lust.
“You like my cock in you?” he prods, torturing me with his insistence on conversation. As I come, he swings us around, disturbing my orgasm and making me squeal with a mixture of discomfort and pleasure.
“Don’t… fucking…” I begin, pissed, but then he drags me down on himself. I’m in his lap, knees wide, so wide, and he’s looking up, meeting my eyes and watching me come. And come. And freaking come.
“Shit!” I finally scream out.
“That good?” he hisses. Cam’s got a hot-as-hell, single-minded focus in his eyes. We’re connected, and he grinds deeper as he says, “Let me get a better handle on you. Ass in the air.” My sex clenches at the thought. Without answering, I turn as requested.
“Ah, you’ve got such a hot little ass.” He spreads my butt cheeks, stroking my juices through the crack, preparing me. For one moment, I worry that he’ll try something I’ve never done before. He doesn’t. Instead he slams in deep and hard.
“You want me to wait for you?” he murmurs, thinking of me in the midst of his craze. It’s sweet—I can’t reply—how the hell do you talk when you’re mute with desire?
I feel myself contract around him.
Again? So fast?
“Never mind,” he growls. “No need to wait for Kitty. Let’s… go.”
It’s nice to have him drop me off at class. I watch the tiny white car roll away, ropes and crazy equipment surely rattling in the trunk. He calls it the hobble-mobile. Pretty damn fitting. Cam’s got class too—some meteorology thing at the opposite side of campus. I still feel light inside when I enter the building. Cam has that effect on me.
Class is uneventful, but I stay awake. Daydream like a teenager about Cameron. As the teacher drones on in front, the texture of Cameron’s skin comes to mind, and I’m suddenly conscious of how I’m actually dreaming of someone who’s not Bo.
I rush out a sigh of relief. It’s what I need: to move on. Not that I’m ready for a new relationship, but this companionship, the play dates and the friendship with Cameron? They are enormous, soft, healing band-aids for my heart.
I stretch in the chair as I think this, almost knocking into BB girl, Beth, who has ended up in the seat next to me today. “Hey,” she belatedly whispers just as we’re taking notes on homework and getting ready to leave.
“Hey, back.” I wave in her face.
“How are you doing?” she asks me. “Cameron told me you’re under the weather, a little. You look good now?”
I frown. “He did? When was that?”
“I don’t know—a few days ago.”
“Yes, I am well, thank you,” I say, very politely, even though I’m not sure I like the thought of her discussing me with Cameron. I’m close to asking what exactly they were talking about.
I suddenly imagine the crap Cameron could say: Oh, yeah, her ex rules her, and she gets herself seriously depressed because of him. I get her smiling again, though, with my giant wang.
Yeah, I’m better off not imagining things. Plus, Beth—despite clearly having a thing for Cameron—seems like an okay lady.
Inga’s hollering at the top of her lungs. “Put me down, you rubber dick!”
She doesn’t mean it, though—one of the multiple fantastic things about the girl. She’s laughing her head off and trying to kick me, while I insist we complete this move. It’s beside the point that neither of us is familiar with swing dancing.
Robin’s cool but hardly amused by our shenanigans on the floor. With one finger in the air, he indicates he’ll be stopping the music—and he does.
“How ’bout trying out the beat for once? As in dancing and cutting down on the circus crap?” Not that he cares. Robin just likes to mouth off at people.
“Yeah, Cameron!” Inga shouts in my ear. One day I will go deaf from her.
“But look at this,” I say. She’s hanging over my shoulder, and I twist to show Robin her ass. She’s in a pair of her all-time worn-out jeans, of course, and I could probably major in copping a feel through the rips by now.
Robin shakes his head, chuckling. “I can’t believe you two. It’s insane what she lets you get away with, man.”
“Yeah. I’m super-nice, and you’re super-rude.” She giggles. “And a cocksucker.”
Robin snorts out loud. “Then again. You do put up with an insane amount of name-calling, Cam. Jesus.”
I grin. Ah, she’s something else. Her ass is close enough for me to bite so I do and make her squeal. “I’m no cocksucker, Inga. You’re the one with an affinity for sucking people off,” I remind her of last night.
“TMI,” Robin mutters and slams on another song.
Tonight, Inga’s working. I’m not, so I’ll be needing an outlet other than her. Indoor rock-climbing is always a distraction. I’ve booked the wall solo at my gym for an hour, which will be nice. The wall’s nothing like the real deal—not the biggest rush—but it’ll serve a purpose.
When I use NonStop Fitness’ facility, it’s to practice climbing techniques. I’m dying to hop the Firam Peak again, though. This weekend, if the weather’s all right, I’ll fly out there with Marek. Two more days. Fuck yeah.
“So what’s the deal with Inga and you?” Robin asks in a lull. Ingela’s gone upstairs for Lyric and Arriane, and I’m about to leave for the gym.
“Nothing, man. Just hangin’.” I tell him the truth.
“Loose cord again. Piece of shit.” He stops tinkering with his headphones to slap the back of my head. “Looks like more to me.”
I smirk. “Naw. She’s damn fine, though.”
“She’s you, dude. You two are, like, the Scandinavian twins.”
“Shut the hell up.”
“You’re in love with yourself with her.”
“What are you, high?”
Robin snickers, eyes returning to the cable problem between his fingers. “Not very, no. Inga doesn’t keep her yapper shut. She has no filter. Sound familiar? She cracks you up but you want to fucking muffle her too, she’s so annoying. Same with you, although you I want to beat up.” He sniffs poignantly and looks up at me. “You sure you’re not twins?”
I don’t get squat of what he’s babbling about. Not that it matters. “Twins,” I mutter, annoyed. What a turn-off. “Well, we’re just messing around.”
“All day, every day?”
“What’re you talking about? No.”
Last night. The night before. At school. Hmm. I’m getting antsy. I guess we’ve been hanging out for a while, pretty much nonstop.
Fuck.
I need to take off. “I’m heading to the gym.” I realize I’m defensive. “She’s working, and I’m not, right? So not twenty-four seven.”
Robin’s back’s shaking. Dude’s fucking laughing at me.
“Go hang yourself,” I growl as I leave.
At the gym, I spend more time dropping myself on purpose from the security rope I’m tied to than actually practicing grips. Damn, I need to fly so hard. Especially after Robin started telling me I’m all but going steady. What in the world happened?
I hang horizontal under the ceiling, my back to the floor, and I let go again to feel that fucking two-foot drop before the damn cord slows me down again. I’m a marionette in this place. I want to hook the rope off and free-fall, but it’s not worth breaking bones for a measly two-second buzz. I probably wouldn’t even have time to experience the thrill.
Inga and I’ve been friends since she moved to America. I’ve always found her gorgeous and sexy, and more than anything, she’s the only girl I can’t shock with my humor.
She laughs. She fucking always finds me funny. Even when she’s miserable. So yeah, no wonder we’ve ended up spending some time together lately. I hope I’m not leading her on.
Of course not—J
esus, this is Ingela. We’ve just escalated from friends to fuck buddies with benefits. Friend benefits.
I climb up again. Fast and efficient—no finesse in my grips. On purpose, I drop myself way too early, and I sigh. Some guy stands in the doorway, scratching his head.
“You up next?” I ask.
“Yeah, in twenty. You’re good.”
“’Kay. You can start early. Not my day for this.” I hoist myself up again. Rinse and repeat, right?
“Yeah, I was wondering. Cool, man.”
In the sauna, I hear my phone ring all the way from the locker. It’s some Swedish boy band Ingela put on there for herself. My cheeks plump on a grin as I slide out to pick up. I’m too late, so I call her back. She picks up immediately.
“Rob called from the Blood Bank,” she screams over Robin’s bellowing music. “You comin’ after work?”
“No reason not to,” I reply.
“WHAT? IT’S LOUD HERE!”
“You’re loud, Kitty.”
“Shut the fuck up!”
I’m laughing. God, she’s so fucking special. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”
It’s three a.m., and we’re at the Blood Bank. Everyone’s toasting and chattering like the party just started. Neither Cameron nor I have classes tomorrow, so the fact that I’m already beyond sloshed isn’t an issue.
“Let’s dance!” I shout. “Robin, go play their thingy—the stereo.”
“Hell no. I’m done working.”
“You’re so boring.” I tug at Cam in his chair even though Robin refuses his musical assistance. Cam’s all heavy man muscle and hotness and has a flicker of humor in his eyes. I don’t have the strength to get all of him up on his feet alone, but he gives in and stands for me.
“What’s the plan, Ingela?” A smirk curls his mouth. His hands are in mine, and I’m shaking them to a beat in my head.
“To dance. Can someone turn on the music around here? It’s so quiet!”
In a bet no one ever wins, some BB girl hands me a glass with cheap red wine mixed with something stronger. I forget what the bet’s all about, but it’s one of the standards. I down the drink in one gulp and realize why no one wins. You’re supposed to down it without complaint—no groan, no nothing—and absolutely no puking. Everybody throws up, at least in their mouths. Like me, now.
“They got you again, doll.” Cameron grins wide. “You’re either oblivious or a sucker for punishment. No, wait; you’re just lit.”
Beth turns on music, waving her hips seductively as she passes Cameron. She winks at him and leans over a table with her short, red miniskirt uniform in the air while she chatters with another girl across from her.
She brushes Cam’s thigh with her ass, and I’m pretty sure it’s on purpose. It works. Cam steps to the side and swings to look. Of course his eyes go straight to her butt.
“Dance, jackass, dance,” I tell him.
The music starts out fast. He swirls me, dips me, and laughs in my ear when I almost lose balance and he has to steady me. Fingers dig into my hip and stay there. Draw me in against him so we mingle hot breaths. Sunny Cam stares at me, and I?
Oh, I stare back.
“My turn, Cam?” Beth cuts in when the music slows. I fold my arms and back off—right into Robin’s lap. He catches me and starts bouncing me like a two-year-old on his knees. “Enjoying life, sweetie?” he mock-asks in the voice he reserves for Lyric.
“Ja,” I respond absently. I try to get up, but he tightens his hold around my waist, locking me in.
Beth’s slinking her arms around Cameron’s neck, rocking her hips again, only now they’re flush against Cameron’s delicious body. Neither of them has a problem being really freaking close in the crotch area either. Shit. I’m feeling possessive.
Wait, maybe they have danced before. Hey, maybe they’ve slept together by now—what do I know?
Wow, I’m not liking this at all.
I’m squirming to get out of my seat when Beth tilts her head playfully to whisper something in Cameron’s ear. The idiot bends to listen. Of course she juts her giant mugs—jugs—whatever they’re called, into his chest. Yeah, this is bullshit.
“Cameron,” I say over the music. His eyes instantly dart to me. He pumps his chin up in acknowledgment. “Having a good time, buddy?” I plaster on my biggest grin and sink back against Robin.
I’m being bounced like I’m on a kids’ rollercoaster, and Robin’s arms are a tight-as-crap seatbelt over my abdomen. “Jesus, Robin.” I laugh. “Here I thought Cam’s the crazy one, but I’m surrounded by idiots.”
So of course he bounces me higher. I swear, if he ever lets go of me, I’ll drop like a brick to the ground, and then I’ll be walking around with a bruised tailbone.
The song isn’t over, but Cam’s in front of us. BB Girl’s got her arms hanging at her sides, waiting for him to return, and her stare’s burning against his back. I guess I interrupted something? Oh darn.
“Whatcha doin’, Robin?” Cam asks, voice neutral. It’s low, though, which isn’t a good sign.
“Keeping Inga from falling asleep,” Robin deadpans.
“I’d say,” I mutter. “Bruising my butt is his big, cunning plan, Cam.”
Robin loosens his grip, and Cameron pulls me out of his lap. He doesn’t look at me. No, because he’s busy doing some sort of manly glare-down with Robin, who leans back in the chair with a knowing curve on his lip.
“Seems someone’s territorial,” Robin confirms my suspicion.
“Oh nice,” I say dryly to both of them. Beth sneaks up behind Cameron and puts a hand on his waist.
“Come dance again?” She directs a painted doll pout at him, which makes me think of how I’ve misplaced my brightest lipstick. I love that one. I’ll ask my mom to send me another one. Or hey, I’ll check if they carry Elizabeth Arden in America.
“Think we’re heading home,” Cameron mutters, eyes confused, like he can’t believe his own words.
“Oh, honey, we are?” I flutter my lashes rapidly. Then, I turn to Beth— “I’m sorry, the kids, you know. The babysitter has school tomorrow, so…” I lift in an overly feminine shoulder shrug, and Cam snorts out laughing.
“You guys are fucking weird,” Robin sighs. “Beth, it’s okay. I’ll bounce you instead.” He slaps his lap. “Now, run off and play, kids.”
We go home, all right, and fast too.
“There’s a zero tolerance with alcohol and driving in Sweden,” I tell Cameron just because. He’s not drunk by any means, not like me, but he’s had a couple. Now he’s screeching to a stop outside my building. That took exactly two minutes.
“Uh-huh, you think it’s allowed here?”
“Oh, you rebel,” I quip. He reaches over, sucks a hard kiss to my mouth, and slams the door shut behind him. I’ve got my tippy-toes searching for the asphalt on my side by the time he has rounded the hood of the car.
Cameron draws me up in a repeat from the Blood Bank, and I snicker. “Cam’s jealous. Are you jealous?”
“Hell no,” he sort of barks.
“Cameron is jealous,” I sing. “Cam iiiiis jealous.”
“Oh, will you fucking stop?” Green eyes go stormy on me. Seriously? He’s mad at me. That’s funny. No… it’s not funny.
Oh my God, I don’t like it. At all.
A drunken lump grows in my throat at the thought of Cameron, of all people, being upset with me. It trembles and activates my lower lip too.
“You suck,” I tell him before it can fill my voice. “Actually, you’re no fun anymore.”
“Ingela…” His expression tinges with regret. “I’m sorry. Just—” Cameron pulls me into his arms and buries his nose in my hair. He inhales deeply. I know he approves of the shampoo I use. Burned sugar, a hint of vanilla, and some other stuff. He says it smells like Juicy Fruit and soap. Everything smells like soap to this guy.
“You weren’t really that, were you? Jealous, I mean?”
“No…” He says it low into my hair, an
d I lock my fingers around his back, pressing closer. We stand there for a moment, breathing together in the chilled night air. “I—missed holding you.”
“Want to sleep over?” I whisper to him. I smile against his shirt. “The gay was just messing with me.”
Cameron chuckles. It’s a happy sound, and my mood brightens so much with that sound. “It’s ‘guy,’ Inga-baby.”
“Whatever.”
“And yes. Yes, I do want to sleep over.”
“Bo…” My heart jack-hammers as I say his name into the phone. I’m sure it produced the fresh adrenaline sloshing in my blood. It’s not some separate gland, whatever entity they say—no, in my case, it’s my biggest muscle doing this crap to me.
At five a.m., Bo has called me from California. I rip through time zones in my head and land on two a.m. where he is. Why? Has he been out partying? Is he with a girl? My stomach churns already, afraid that he’s hurting. In trouble. Anything less than okay.
I send my sleepover guest a glance for comfort. Cameron is close, a shoulder rising and sinking in sleep, and a heavy arm still curved across my waist. He’s relaxed muscle and taut sunniness under my sheets.
“What do you want?” I whisper.
“Why are you whispering?” Bo asks.
“What do you care?”
“You’re with someone, aren’t you?” he says, and his voice breaks on the last word. “Shit, Inga. Never mind. I shouldn’t have called you. I’m such a fool.”
Grief over us creeps in over me again. Cameron’s arm, the one keeping my mood stable, feels lighter around my body. I want to slip away from his hold. At the same time, I want to snuggle deeper under the covers and find him.
I’m so confused.
“Where are you at?” I turn quietly on the mattress to not speak into Cam’s face. His sleepy hold accommodates to my form and remains in place.
“At the apartment. Hollywood’s different,” Bo says. “Yeah, it’s cool here. Nice and all, but—I know no one in this city.”
“What? You don’t have a following there yet? After three whole weeks?” I wish he could see my look of sarcasm. Bo knows my reactions by heart, though, so when he doesn’t comment, it’s because he’s ignoring my response.
