26. Cameron

Chapter 26

Cameron

My defenses crumble. Brick by brick, they built the walls I wore as badges of strength and resilience.

Then, she happened.

With Daphne, everything aligns, despite my broken pieces.

She reminds me of a version of myself that I thought was lost—a version that knew how to live and not just bear the days. The old Cam. Her presence mends wounds that I and others deemed beyond repair.

She sees me, not for the football legacy, but for the man I truly am. Even with the parts of myself I’m ashamed of.

Daphne is stunning as she pushes her lavender hair back, quickening her pace as she grinds her hips over me. She’s so wet that with one buck of my hips, I could be inside of her.

I rake my gaze along her body, the one I’ve dreamt about for months. It’s even better than I remembered. Soft, dimpled skin. My hands squeeze over her thighs and hips, leaving pink imprints, marking her.

Her rhythm intensifies as she leans forward so her perfect breasts are in my face. I run my tongue along her nipples, and her breathing deepens.

God, she’s so fucking perfect.

She reaches behind her back, grabbing the base of my cock, positioning it at her entrance. Bare and raw.

She is so tight, so wet, so warm. I have never been stupid enough to fuck without a condom. But this…there’s no coming back from having her like this.

“Wait,” I breathe.

“Don’t worry.” She shakes her head. “I’m on Depo, and, well, you’re the last person I’ve been with,” she says through an erratic breath. “A-are you clear?”

My teeth grit together. “Nothing to report.” My brain is short-circuiting.

“I need to feel you like this, Cameron.” Her eyelashes flutter as she places the tip of my cock inside of her. I watch her body respond, clenching around me. “I want to feel all of you.”

I’m a fucking goner.

“Daphne” is all I can manage to say in a ragged breath.

Our eyes lock, and she slides down slowly, tightening around me. Her mouth contorts into an O, and then she drags her teeth over her bottom lip. Her thighs tremble as she takes more than half of me. I don’t move yet. Instead, I rub her soft skin, clasping one of her hands in mine. She sets her free hand on my chest and leans forward, rubbing a nipple along my lips again. I oblige, taking it into my mouth. Vanilla intoxicates me. With a final drop, she takes all of me.

“Fuck,” I rasp.

“Cameron, you feel so good.” Back arching. Hips shaking. We still as she adjusts to me. I pant against her pebbled skin, her neck. “You’re so good. My wonderful, strong, incredible man. I’ve waited for this for so long.”

Her words shoot like needles into my chest. I want to believe her. I want to be the man she sees. My control collapses. I grip her hips, letting her find her own pace.

“Me too,” I moan into her.

I didn’t think anything could be better than our first time, but this time she’s with Cameron Hastings, not some pseudonym.

I’ve memorized the goddess hidden beneath her sweaters, her crooked smile, the way she holds her breath when she messes up a stitch, and how her eyes glow brighter when she looks at me.

She’s the stillness in my chaos.

I want more. I want all of her.

She’s in my home, in my mind, a burst of color in my gray world.

“Oh god,” she says with a half laugh, half cry, just like that night we spent together. My favorite. I feel myself getting harder as she quickens her hips. “I’ve never felt like this before,” she says. “I love it.”

I press my lips to her ear. “I’ve never felt like this before either.” Christ. I won’t last long like this. “You may have ruined me.”

“You could never be ruined.”

A sharp ache explodes in my chest at her words.

Her nails dig into my collarbone as she glides over my cock. We’re skin against skin. Mine hard and hers soft. I meet each roll of her hips with my own thrusts.

“So good, Cameron. You make me feel so good.” She praises me, and I can’t get enough. I’m her hound, begging for a treat that will help me forget I’m not broken. That I haven’t just put everything I’ve ever loved at risk. “Yes, yes, yes.” Her head falls back.

It’s not just about the touch, the taste, the tangled limbs—it’s more. We resonate with each other. The girl with the heart on her sleeve. And me, the tin man, yearning for a new heart.

Her pace turns erratic, selfish. She arches and pins her hands back on my knees, letting me see all of her.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“You always have,” she moans and picks up the pace. The coiling need at the base of my spine doubles.

“Daph,” I whimper and clasp her hips, feeling her heartbeat around my throbbing length. “Sweet girl, slow down,” I beg. “I missed you too fucking much.”

She looks up at the ceiling, her breath coming in short bursts. “I missed you.”

I pull one of her hands to my lips, kissing each knuckle. “I-I don’t want this to end. It feels…overwhelming after so long. Too good. This is too good.”

The heat at the base of my spine mocks me. Stamina goes out the window with her. She strips me to my bones.

“I feel that.” She smiles. “I feel you getting bigger, harder, because of me.”

I chuckle. “All because of you.”

Sex has always been a release, a distraction. But never like this. Never filled with so much pleasure, a space where my body hums with a joy I’ve never felt before.

Addictive.

“Then be selfish, Cameron,” she whispers, and I flip her over. “Take me. Make it feel good.”

Whatever Daphne thinks, I’m certain that I’m unworthy of the woman in front of me.

At her words, I give in. I grip her tighter, my fingers digging into her skin until it’s raw. I take her, moving and groaning, lost in the moment, until time disappears like morning dew. I press my thumb against her clit, circling until her moans guide my pace. She’s writhing, screaming my name mixed into a chorus of yeses. Our movements are frantic and desperate. I feel broken, but with her, it’s like I’m a shattered vase being pieced back together. She makes me feel whole again.

“Daphne,” I rasp.

“Together.”

And we collapse.

My consciousness seems to untether from my body, merging with hers. It’s pure bliss. Our bliss. We stay wrapped in each other for a while.

“I made a real mess of you.” I kiss her forehead, drape a blanket over her from the back of the couch, and fetch a warm towel and a glass of water. I clean her up with care, then cover her in kisses before connecting my lips with hers.

She yawns, and I follow suit.

The past month has been exhausting for both of us. I pull on my boxers, wrap her in the blanket, and lift her off the couch. “You make me feel like a person,” I say.

“And you make me feel like I’m exactly where I need to be.”

She’s everything I’m not—the only light in my dark world. Maybe one day, when I fix the broken parts of myself, I can be worthy of her love.