34. Cameron

Chapter 34

Cameron

I load the last plate into the dishwasher and glance over at Daphne. She’s curled up on the couch, engrossed in Gilmore Girls , knitting a new blanket. The empty bowl of soft serve I made her sits on the coffee table next to a lit candle. I’ve looked forward to this all day.

After I apologized and opened up to Coach and Ivan last week, they were understanding. But I’m still on the bench. Coach told me I needed to show him I’ve changed. I agreed. I’ve been pushing myself harder at practice. It sucks sitting out and watching my team win without me. Ivan has been unstoppable these last two matches—he could play the rest of the season.

I don’t know who I am without football. Ivan’s in his forties and still a force; that could be me. Perhaps the fear of being in my prime stemmed more from Rossi's incessant taunting. I still have plenty of time left in my career if I can turn this season around.

I’ve been trying to bond with my teammates. At my suggestion, Ivan and I started weight training with the rest of the team. After practice, we sometimes meet at the arcade next door and play Mortal Kombat II . It’s nice because we don’t have to talk; for a while, I can just lose myself in the game, yelling at the screen and keeping my mind busy.

It’s the same when I’m around Daphne—a peace for my relentless thoughts about not being enough.

As I grab a dish towel to dry my hands, I notice a tangled pile of yarn bunched up on a chair near her recording window. She usually has projects scattered around the apartment, but this one has been sitting untouched for over a week.

“What’s going on with this?” I ask, pointing to the yarn.

She glances at the pile and then back at me. “Oh, that’s been officially named Project Time-Out.”

“Explain.” I tilt my head, prompting her to continue.

The wrinkle above her nose appears as she hikes up onto her knees. “Something about that particular yarn has caused a fuss. I’ve been spending more time trying to untangle it than actually knitting. So, it’s in time-out until I decide if I want to salvage it or scrap it.”

“That won’t do.” It’s a perfect opportunity. Something to keep my mind quiet.

“You’re spot on, Goose. I will not be doing it!” She plops back down on her couch as I pick up the half-knitted sweater and inspect it. It’s a new stitch I haven’t seen before.

“What if I helped untangle it for you?”

“It’s your funeral.”

“I don’t mind.” I sit next to her, yellow yarn in hand, and she tosses the blanket over both of our laps. “When I was younger, I used to replace the netting on my goal post. Sometimes the new nets would come tangled, and I’d spend hours making sure it was perfect before putting it in. I liked the ritual of it.”

“Well, when you put it like that, I’d be a fool to deny you the privilege of untangling my yarn,” Daphne says with a playful smile. A loose strand of hair falls from her messy bun, and she blows it out of the way. I thought she already took her makeup off for the night, but her cheeks seem to have some sort of luminescent powder on them.

I kiss her cheek, and she shimmies her shoulders deeper into her pink couch. Fucking adorable. I start unlooping the yarn from the wooden knitting needles. It’s soothing.

“How are you feeling about your retreat after tickets sold out?” I ask.

“Excited, nervous, overwhelmed, over the moon,” she admits. “I still need to finalize all the workshops, but luckily I got all the finances sorted out this week.” She nods to herself, her needles clicking faster, matching the pace of the rain pelting the windows. “Since I already had established connections with brands, it was easy to get sponsors. They’ll be mentioned online and in my vlogs during the weekend, so it pays for itself. My favorite yarn company, Knitty Gritty, sent over three hundred skeins of yarn in every color. Erin hooked me up with some mental health professionals who each only charged for their time. I only had to use up a little of my savings. Practically the whole weekend is covered between the ticket sales and sponsorships. But I’m still so nervous.”

There is a confidence in her voice that is extremely sexy.

“About what?”

“Honestly, my welcome speech. I haven’t spoken in front of a crowd like that before. Oh, actually, maybe I’m more scared of the Q the end is in sight.

“So are you.” She bumps her foot on my leg.

My chest constricts. I can’t quite believe her. “So, Daphne Quinn, last question. How do you feel about Cameron Hastings?”

“I like him. Like, like him.” She scoots closer to me.

“I like, like you too,” I say and finish untangling the remainder of the yarn before setting it beside her. I rub my hand over her ankle. “Do you like this too?” I ask.

“Yes.” She smirks. The last couple nights I’ve spent over here have been like this. A little game, seeing how long we can hold off without giving in. Since we got back from California, my appetite for her has been insatiable.

“And this.” I turn toward her, moving back on the couch so I can kiss her ankle and that damn chain that drives me wild.

“I’m still a little sore from ice skating yesterday.” She giggles. I took her to a private rink for our recent Yes Year activity. She was terrible, but it was okay because that meant she had to hold onto me the entire time.

“What if I had a way of making you feel a little better?” I kiss up her calf.

Daphne sets down her blanket and picks up Project Time-Out, inspecting the tangle-free mess. “But you just untangled my yarn; I was going to start working on my project,” she says innocently.

“Well, don’t let me stop you.”

She picks up her needles and yarn, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. Daphne’s needles click rhythmically. I can’t resist as I work my lips up her legs, each kiss drawing a soft sigh from her. “Oh.”

This is about to become a very fun game.

“How’s the knitting?”

“No problem at all, don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Not distracted?”

She bats her head side to side. The pink tinge in her cheeks is obvious. “Nope.”

The corner of my lip lifts in a smirk. If that’s how she wants to play it. “What if I grab your rose-shaped vibrator? Are you going to be able to keep working?”

Daphne’s flirty expression drops, and her cheeks burn red. Her needles stop clicking. “How do you know about that?”

She left it out on her nightstand after one of our make-out sessions on the couch got very hot and heavy first thing in the morning. I found it that night, after I got back from practice.

I lean in closer, my breath warm against her ear. “Is it in your nightstand?” I whisper, my hand trailing up her thigh. Her breath hitches. Sliding my hand up her leg, I watch as her body responds to my touch.

She nods. “In the drawer.”

“Let’s see if you can keep your focus then,” I murmur, my lips finding the sensitive skin just below her ear. She shivers, her body arching toward me. I pull away from her, fetch the rose-shaped vibrator out of her nightstand drawer, and quickly wash it in the sink. When I return to the living room, I find Daphne’s anticipatory gaze tracking my every move, her knitting needles working overtime.

“Ready to play?” I ask.

A fire burns in her eyes, and she slides back in her seat. “I’m not going to get in the way of you making me feel better, now am I?”

“Good girl.” I leave the battery-powered friend on the coffee table for the time being and begin unraveling my woman.

I kneel before her, my hands tracing the curves of her legs. My fingers glide slowly, savoring every inch of her silky skin. My lips follow the path of my hands, leaving a trail of soft, lingering kisses.

Her breathing quickens, and her knitting needles quiet down. “Are you getting distracted?”

“Not a chance.” She sighs, betraying her arousal as I continue my worship.

My hands move higher, caressing her thighs. With excruciating slowness, I slide off her pajama shorts and panties, exposing her to my hungry gaze. I drink in the sight of her, the evidence of her desire making my pulse race.

“You’re already getting worked up, aren't you?” I tease, my voice thick with lust.

She attempts to play coy. “I’m trying to knit,” she says, her voice shaky as she tries to focus on her task and not the fire I’m stoking within her.

A flush spreads across her cheeks. It won’t be long before she surrenders completely.

A chuckle escapes me. “That shirt is doing inexplicable things to me,” I murmur. “It’s so adorably sexy.”

“You like it?”

“Like, like all of them.” With a satisfied smile, my hands continue their worship, exploring, caressing, loving every part of her. I kiss around her thighs, making her even wetter and more turned on. Despite this, she tries to keep knitting, her determination both amusing and arousing.

She looks down at me with a playful glint in her eyes. “I thought you were going to try and distract me,” she teases.

“And make you feel good.”

“It has five different modes,” she whispers.

“Let’s see what they do to you.”

“Please,” she begs, igniting something primal within me.

I flick on the first mode, a steady pulsing, and kiss her deeply. She tries to focus on her hands, but her breath catches as I bring the vibrator closer to her legs. She whimpers and sighs, her body responding instantly. I hover the toy just above her clit, teasing her with the anticipation.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” I say, my voice filled with adoration. “But you know you’re not going to be able to stay focused on that knitting, right?”

She bites her lip, determined. “Watch me,” she challenges.

I move the toy across her clit for a second, then pull it away. Her hips buck involuntarily.

“Having trouble focusing?” I tease, sliding the toy through her, adjusting the pressure and circling it. Her moans are music to my ears. My cock is so fucking hard. A mixture of pleasure and pain.

“Cameron,” she scolds.

I press warm, wet kisses along her thigh and twist the toy, switching to the second mode. This one comes in short bursts, like a jackhammer.

Daphne sighs heavily. “Maybe I’m not going to make it.”

“Oh, you will,” I assure her, my voice a low growl. “You’re a winner; you can do it.”

She rolls her eyes at me, but the defiance is mixed with lust. “You think so?” A hint of a smirk plays on her lips as her fingers run over the yarn.

“I know so. You’re incredible. You always rise to the occasion.” Her body arches. “I love how you’re so wet for me,” I whisper, my lips brushing against her skin. I trail my mouth up her thigh, licking and nipping while never letting up the rhythm of my fingers. “I could watch you torture yourself like this all night.”

She bites her lip, trying to maintain her composure. “I’m…I’m almost done with this row.”

“Are you now?” I say, my voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “Let’s see how long you can keep it up.”

Her eyes flutter shut as she tries to concentrate, but her knitting becomes more erratic. The pleasure is too good, too intense. “Please, I need to finish,” she begs, but her voice lacks conviction.

I switch to a third mode, the vibrations coming and going in gentle waves. It seems to relax her. I’m on my knees in her living room, watching her come undone. Her cheeks flush, her breath comes in short, desperate gasps, and her hands falter over the yarn.

“Just a little more,” I coax, slipping a finger inside of her, working slowly in and out, feeling her warmth envelop me. I can barely contain myself as I watch her unravel before me. Every soft gasp, every tremble of her body drives me wild. My desire for her is overwhelming, a constant thrum in my veins, but I hold back, wanting to savor this moment, to make it perfect for her.

She whimpers, “I can’t…I can’t do it.”

“Yes, you can,” I murmur, my eyes locked on her face, watching every delicious expression as she falls apart.

“More,” she demands, her voice dripping with need.

I switch to the fourth mode, something between a steady rumble and a high speed. I hold her gaze, slipping in another finger, and then kiss her deeply.

“You’re perfect, you know that? I love watching you come. I love getting you there,” I whisper against her lips.

Her knitting needles clatter to the floor as she finally gives in, her body arching, her moans filling the room. Her body responds to every touch, every word.

“You’re going to come so hard for me,” I tell her. “I can feel it; you’re right on the edge.”

Her moans grow louder, her hips bucking against my hand. “Yes, yes, please,” she gasps, her voice a desperate plea. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” I promise, feeling a surge of power as I slow down the speed of the vibrator, teasing her mercilessly. “But I want you to hold on just a little longer. I want to savor this.” I press the vibrator harder against her clit, then pull back, switching to my fingers as I trace delicate circles around her sensitive spot. The heat at the base of my spine only multiplies with every passing second, making it incredibly difficult to maintain control.

“Oh god, please,” she begs, her tone a mixture of frustration and desire. “Cameron.”

I lean in close, my lips brushing against her ear. “You’re doing so well,” I whisper, my fingers moving faster now, then slower again, keeping her teetering on the edge. “I want to hear you say my name, tell me how good it feels.”

“Please, Cameron, it feels so good, please,” she moans.

I switch to my mouth, my tongue flicking against her clit, my fingers not breaking pace inside of her as she gets louder and louder.

“Fuck, I love the way you beg, sweet girl,” I murmur against her skin and suck. “I love how responsive you are, how your body reacts to my touch.” She tightens around me, the same way she did the night we first met. “Just a little more, you’re almost there.”

I can sense her frustration building, the need for release overwhelming her. I grab the vibrator and increase the speed again, my fingers and the toy working together as I kiss up her thighs. “I love watching you like this, so desperate and needy.” I growl, my voice low and intense.

Her hips buck against me, her body trembling. “Yes, yes, oh god, yes!” she cries out.

I push her right to the edge, then pull back, slowing down just enough to keep her from tipping over. “You’re doing so good,” I praise.

“Please,” she whimpers, her body writhing beneath me. “I can’t take it; please let me come.”

I smile, knowing I have her exactly where I want her. “All right, let go,” I command, my voice a low growl. “Come for me, show me how good I make you feel.”

And she does, her body convulsing, a cry of pure pleasure escaping her lips. Her eyes lock onto mine. “That’s it.” Her body collapses against the couch. I hold her close, my fingers still gently stroking her, prolonging her pleasure. “You’re incredible,” I whisper, kissing her forehead.

Her eyes flutter open. “That was so fun. Even if I didn’t get to finish my knitting project, and the yarn is all tangled again.”

I laugh and reply, “You’re still a winner, tangled yarn or not.”

She grins mischievously as I get up from the couch. I grab a towel and gently clean her up, then fetch a glass of water and a piece of her favorite chocolate. “Here you go,” I say.

“Thank you,” she says, her eyes filled with gratitude as she takes a sip and nibbles on the chocolate.

When she’s done, she slides off the couch and gets down onto the floor. “Now let’s see if you can stay focused on untangling this yarn again,” she challenges, handing me the mess we made of her project. “Because I’m going to make it very difficult for you,” she adds, a playful glint in her eyes.

I can’t help but let out a groan, running a hand through my hair. “You know, this is really unfair,” I mutter, trying to mask the smirk tugging at my lips. “I have no control around you.”

She looks up at me, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Life’s not fair, grumpy,” she teases. Her voice softens as her fingers deftly unbuckle my belt and pull down my jeans. “But I promise, it’ll be worth it.”

“All right, you win,” I concede. “But just know, you’re making it very hard to focus.”

She grins, her eyes locking onto mine. “Good,” she whispers. Her breath is warm against my skin. “That’s exactly what I was hoping for.”

And with that, our night is far from over.