23. Cameron

Icouldn't stop squirming. I'd rubbed aloe on my tender cheeks after he left, changed into my softest pair of fleece pants, and even moved to the couch, but the burn in my ass wouldn't let up. Truthfully, I loved the reminder of my night with Sam. But I wasn't getting much work done.

Slamming my laptop shut, I growled to my empty living room. Surely there was something I could do today that wouldn't require sitting, right?

I stood and started wandering around the house, looking for things to do. I didn't have many dishes, but there were a few, so I started with those. I even hand-washed them all in lieu of sticking them in the dishwasher so it would take longer. After that, I grabbed the cleaning supplies from under the sink and wiped down every countertop. Then the cupboards for good measure.

Oh! The bathroom! Kitchen cleaning supplies stowed, I rushed into the bathroom and started taking the whole thing apart, carefully wiping down every piece—even the toilet cleaning brush, plunger, and wastebasket—before giving the main bath a thorough cleaning. By the time I was done, that place was sparkling. It would pass a white-glove inspection for sure.

Next, I headed to the master bath, giving it the same treatment. I was done sooner than I liked, though.

At least I didn't have any deadlines today.

Just as I was putting my cleaning supplies away, eyeing the bed as I passed and considering lying on my stomach with my laptop to see if I could get any writing done, my doorbell rang. Who the hell was here at—I glanced at the clock on my bedside table—noon? Oh. Probably Tristan. Hopefully with lunch.

I quickly washed my hands then headed through my small living room to the front door on the far wall. When I yanked it open, I froze, staring at the gaggle of men on my porch.

Nate shoved past me with a six-pack in his hand, calling out a loud "hello" while making a beeline for the kitchen, presumably the fridge. Anson rolled his eyes as he entered close behind his best friend, apologizing quickly. "Sorry, Cameron. You know Nate has a one-track mind when it comes to food."

I eyed Tristan as he stepped in next. "You brought food?"

He grinned and stepped aside to let Ethan in. "Yup. Ethan brought us pizza from that place down on Rainier."

I took a big whiff as he passed, and my stomach growled. "You all are lifesavers." I ducked my head around the doorjamb. "Anyone else out here?"

Tristan smacked my arm. "Get in here, asshole. The pizza's getting cold."

Grinning, I shut the door and locked it before turning around in the open entryway to the men assembled in my living room. Ethan, Tristan, and Anson had taken the couch directly opposite me, and Nate was dropping into an easy chair on the right just as I turned. That left the less comfortable chair for me, but I wasn't planning on sitting, anyway.

I crossed my arms and eyed every one of them in turn. "To what do I owe this intervention?"

Tris gasped, his hand flying to his chest. A telltale sign that this was exactly what I suspected it was. "Whatever do you mean, dear?" His eyelashes fluttered dramatically, and Ethan elbowed him lightly.

"Tristan here said you disappeared last night. With Sam." Ethan grinned.

I snatched a pillow from the floor beside the uncomfortable chair on my left and hurled it at Tris. "Fucker."

"What?" His hands flew in front of his face, batting away the projectile. "We just wanted to hear how it went."

Anson nodded from his other side, his eyes kind. "Yes, Cameron. We haven't seen a real smile on your face in a long time, and we liked it. If Sam put it there, then he's okay in our book."

Tris nodded as well, eyes wide and deceptively innocent. "Promise, we're just here because we care about you."

Nate cleared his throat. "And a little because we want to hear details."

"Nathan Bartholomew!" Anson shouted, glaring as Nate waved him off. But Anson's eyes were sparkling when he turned back to me. "We only need to hear what Cameron's willing to share."

I sighed, crossing my arms across my chest as I popped my hip. "Ugh, fine. It was Sam."

"You finally worked things out with him?" Ethan asked. I saw the other guys leaning in to get the tea—they'd all been at our Daddies and Subs Club when Sam and I hadn't been able to keep our hands off each other, according to Tristan. They all knew at least a little bit of it.

I nodded, shoving my hands into my pockets. I still wasn't going to sit down. The subject of our discussion had made sure of that last night. "Yeah, it was the same Sam you all met at last month's club meeting. It's a long story. Basically, we've bumped into each other a few times since last March, but we finally connected last night. We both happened to be at Mix It Up at the same time."

Tris was bouncing in his seat, nodding. "Uh-huh. Let me guess—you both got all hot over Zander and Joey's spanking demo, right?"

I glanced toward the fireplace to my left. "A gentleman never kisses and tells."

"Holy fuck!" Nate shouted. "I knew it! Please, tell me you two did the nasty. Hopefully several times."

"Nathan!" Anson hissed again, but this time, Nate retreated into the chair, properly chastised.

Ethan smiled. "As much as we'd all love details—like, is he a Daddy?—we just want to know if he treated you well. And if you're seeing him again."

I pursed my lips, tapping my chin to build the suspense. Then I ticked off my answers to his questions on my fingers. "Well . . . definitely, very, and I think so."

A collective shout exploded through the room. Even Ethan, even-keeled as he usually was, pumped his fist in the air. "That's amazing, Cameron! We're so happy for you, truly." Ethan stood, circling the coffee table to pull me into a hug.

Tristan was next, and like I was the groom at some fucked-up wedding, the other men lined up to congratulate me as well. What the hell kind of weird alternate dimension had I landed in?

After Nate's playful bear hug and Anson had wrapped his surprisingly strong twink arms around me, I stepped back, glancing toward the kitchen. "Now that that's over, somebody mentioned pizza?"

***

"So how did you two fare last night?" I wiggled my eyebrows, leveling a pointed glare at Anson after we'd all tucked into our food. He blushed instantly, and Nate started cackling.

"Anson could hardly make it through the final demonstration. You know, the one you missed." Nate winked at me.

"Shut up, Nate," Anson growled, venom in his tone. It always amused me that so much indignation could come out of such a small man.

Tris perked up beside me where we sat on the floor, our plates on the coffee table. His eyes sparkled as he cooed, "Ooo—tell us what happened!"

I munched on another bite of pizza—it really was amazing—as we all waited for Anson to spill. When he didn't, Nate filled us in, as we all knew he would.

"So for those of you who didn't make it through 'til closing"—he winked at me, and I fought a blush—"the final demonstration was actually Henry and this guy named Carter, I think. Haven't seen him before. He was definitely a sub, though he had to be almost thirty."

At Nate's questioning glance, Anson shrugged then took another polite bite of pizza, chewing primly.

"Okay, so thirty-ish. Anyway, they did this whole scene where Carter got into heavy subspace with sensory deprivation and some pain play. I mean, damn." Nate fanned himself with a meaty hand. "Carter was whimpering and moaning louder each time Henry took something away from him. By the end, he was handcuffed to the bench, blindfolded, ears plugged, with his balls in a vise as Henry dropped hot wax across his torso, even his dick and swollen balls."

I clenched my thighs together instinctively. That kind of pain was too intense for me.

Nate took a huge bite of pizza and opened his mouth to continue with it half full, earning a glare from Anson. He quickly swallowed before starting again. "Anyway, the CBT part was super hot. Even Anson thought so." I heard another growl come from the couch. "And you could tell Carter was super into it. Henry, not so much, I think."

Ethan tilted his head from the far side of the couch. "Why do you say that?"

Nate shrugged. "Just a hunch. He put on a good show, but still. He's such a gentle dude, maybe even a Daddy—I don't think he's into the really intense stuff. I got the sense he was just giving Carter what he needed, not that he was getting off on it himself."

I nodded. "That tracks. He's looking for a boy to spoil, from what I can tell."

Tristan cleared his throat, his empty plate abandoned in favor of absently petting Prickles's fur. "What makes you say that?"

I shrugged, frowning, then repeated Nate's words. "Just a hunch."

Anson jumped in. "You may be right."

I smiled, picking up a carrot stick and dousing it in ranch dressing. "But regardless, I don't think he'll have any trouble finding that special boy, if he wants one. That man is the definition of a silver fox. Seriously—Google ‘silver fox' and see if his picture doesn't come up." I shivered dramatically. "Plus, I hear the man is . . . um, well-endowed."

Nate nodded. "I can confirm that. His leather pants were tight last night, and I could see everything from where I was sitting. He may not have gotten off on the pain, but he was turned on by something. And fuck, that dude's dick is porn-star-award worthy."

Anson stared at Nate as he talked, his soft brown eyes full of longing, but I don't think anyone noticed but me. He might not have even realized he was doing it himself. When would those two see what was right in front of them?

Ethan cleared his throat, pushing to his feet and collecting the empty plates, which was just mine and his at the moment. "You boys finish your food; I can help Cameron clean up."

I pushed to my feet, relieved for the break from sitting—though the pain in my ass was already lessening—and followed him into the kitchen.

He opened the dishwasher and started rinsing the plates in the sink as I stood by. "Thanks for having us over uninvited."

I smiled, crossing my arms and leaning against the counter on the other side of the dishwasher. "You brought food—what can I say?"

Ethan smiled back. "Tristan says he brings you food often."

I nodded, pulling my arms a little tighter around me.

He must've noticed because he held up a wet hand between us. "I mean no offense. I just worry about my boys." He'd taken to calling all of us in the club—even the Daddies, who didn't seem to mind—his "boys." He was barely older than I was, but he'd taken on a patriarchal role in our little found family.

I let my shoulders relax a little. "I appreciate that. Yes, Tristan does have to feed me at times. He's promised to keep me alive until I find my forever Daddy."

He cocked an eyebrow as he loaded the last plate in the dishwasher and closed it, reaching for the towel hanging from the fridge's handle and drying his hands off. "And have you?"

Biting my lip, I considered his question more seriously than I probably needed to. I was still working all that out myself. "Maybe? I hope so. I . . ." I trailed off, unsure of how much I wanted to divulge.

Ethan leaned against the counter with his now-dry hands in the pockets of his jeans, silently waiting for me to decide.

"Okay, so I met someone online." His other eyebrow raised but he didn't say anything. "We emailed back and forth for a while before he suggested we move to your app."

He grinned. I knew he loved to play matchmaker—that's why the app was such a great idea and a perfect fit for him.

"I figured out pretty quickly that he's a Daddy. Well, he said he thought he was, so we agreed to do an online Daddy/boy thing, mostly anonymously, for a while. That would give him time to feel it out, see if it was for him, and give us time to get to know each other."

"Hmm," Ethan hummed, but I kept going before he could say anything else.

"But I discovered a few weeks ago that my online Daddy and Sam were the same person."

Ethan's jaw dropped, an expression that looked extremely out of place on his gorgeous face. I suspected he wasn't often surprised. "Are you serious?"

I nodded. "Yeah. It's created a bit of a . . . conundrum."

"How so?"

I took a breath, scrubbing my hand through my hair. "I was angry at first, though I get why he kept his identity a secret. But after the club meeting, he emailed me, confessing everything. We kissed before the meeting, and he said he didn't want to go any further with me until I knew the truth."

"And how do you feel about it now?"

"Sam's great. I'm ecstatic that he and my online Daddy are the same person."

He eyed me. "But?"

I sighed. "But . . ." My heart started pounding. This was terrible to admit. "I've always pictured myself with a certain kind of person, you know? And Sam—well, he's so much better than what I pictured."

"Then what's the problem?"

I huffed. "Well, I just . . . never mind. I'm being an asshole." That's right, Cameron, you are. Just because you pictured eventually falling in love with a cis man, you're going to avoid committing to Sam—the perfect guy—because he's trans? You're fucking worse than Jason.

Ethan appraised me before responding, probably watching the horrible thoughts spinning through my brain. "Okay, so whatever that is"—he swirled his hand in the air between us—"you need to sort it out. Sounds like Sam's a great guy; you owe him that."

I nodded, but he wasn't done.

"And so what if he's not exactly who you pictured you'd end up with? Cameron, love—hell, even lust—doesn't always line up with the fantasies we've built in our heads. True love means finding the person who makes your soul sing and makes you a better person, not one who checks all the right boxes. That's not real love; that's fiction."

I nodded again, tearing up. Thank god for friends who told me what I needed to hear and didn't hold back.

Ethan watched me for a moment, probably sensing I had something I wanted to say. Turned out, I did. "I think I'm falling in love with him. But it's too soon, right? How could I possibly love someone I just met?"

He lifted a single eyebrow. "Did you just meet him, though? You said you'd already bumped into each other a few times, and you had that whole online relationship, right?"

I just kept nodding.

"You know him, Cameron. And after last night, I suspect all the little pieces of him that were missing fell into place for you, didn't they?"

I couldn't believe his assessment, because he'd hit the nail on the head. My mouth dropped open, and I raised my hand to cover it as I drew in a soft breath. "Oh god, they did." I found his gaze. "I think I love him, Ethan. I'm almost certain. But how do I give him all of me when I'm not good enough for him? I don't have anything to offer him—"

Ethan's hand shot between us again, silencing me. "Cameron, I know for certain you have everything he could ever want."

"How do you know that? What do I have?"

Ethan's smile was long-suffering. "You forget I met Sam before our club meeting last month. I knew he was hung up on someone long before I knew it was you. He doesn't think you're not good enough for him—he just wants you. I saw the way he looked at you during our meeting last month. The man loves you, just you, and you're all he wants. I've rarely seen a man so smitten."

Tears threatened, but I smiled through them. "Really?"

Ethan grinned. "Absolutely. Not to mention the fact that he's a Daddy and you're a boy—your submission is one huge thing you have to offer."

"Oh." I just stared into space as I let his words sink in.

"One last thing—if you truly believe Sam could be your forever Daddy, you need to be open about everything. A relationship built on secrets and half-truths is doomed to fail. So when you get a chance, just talk to him."

Choking back a sob, I chuckled without humor. "Of course, you're right."

He grinned. "I usually am."