17. Cameron

CHAPTER 17

CAMERON

Holy.

Oh my God.

He… He really did that.

My stupid, broken brain is making this a bigger deal than it probably is. But as soon as his mouth was on me, I had this epiphany. A stupid, obvious, ridiculous epiphany that had my eyes welling up over a fucking blowjob.

Who cries when they're getting their dick sucked?!

Someone who hasn't been touched in a long time, that's who. As many times as I've gotten down on my knees, jacked, and been fucked by Emile, I'm somehow just realizing he hasn't reciprocated even once. Hell, I think I've only managed to cum half the times we've been together, and that's if I'm lucky to get a moment to do it myself afterwards. How fucking pathetic is that?

It's not like I have unrealistic or unfair expectations. I don't expect someone to do anything they aren't comfortable with. I made the choice and agreed willingly to anything that's transpired between us. In the beginning, I thought it was just a matter of comfort. We didn't talk much about his sexuality, and he seemed a bit inexperienced. I didn't want to push him or make things awkward. But then along the way, I became complacent. Used to being left unsatisfied. Forgotten.

Except Emile didn't forget me. He wasn't unaware.

He just didn't care.

Now to have this beast of a man bent over me and showing me more care and attention in this one blowjob than I've received in more than a year…

It's overwhelming. It feels too big inside my chest, and I don't know what to do with it.

So I do the only thing I know I can do, and that's to make sure I suck his dick so good, he won't be able to chase me when I eventually run out of here to process these feelings in private.

"Cam? Are you?—"

No. Nope. This isn't happening. The hottest daddy on earth isn't going to witness me cry over a blowjob.Antoni would never let me live it down.

I sit up and scoot to the edge of the counter, pulling him into me. Before he can attempt another word, I crash my lips to his and lick inside his mouth to check for any remaining traces of my cum on his tongue. Dom groans, the deep rumble vibrating through my teeth. I push my hand beneath his waistband, but he grabs my wrist before I can. Oh.

My fingertips dip just low enough to touch the sticky, wet evidence that Dom really enjoyed that. He got off on me getting off.

If that isn't the sexiest fucking thing I've ever experienced, I don't know what is. It’s almost enough to get me hard all over again.

I smirk at the embarrassed look on his face and pull my fingers back, sucking them into my mouth one by one, tasting his excitement. There's a noticeable twitch in the front of his pants.

Dom lets out a heavy breath. "You're going to be the death of me."

Pulling him down for one more kiss, I mentally calculate how long I think it will be before he starts to pull away. Once I leave his apartment, will he regret this? We've already played the regret game and yet, we keep coming back for more. How long before I can't take it anymore?

Dom shoves his hands under my thighs and hoists me into his arms, making me shriek in surprise.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking you to clean up, then putting you to bed. It's late, and you have a performance tomorrow."

"I can shower at home."

"Stay here tonight. Save yourself the extra half hour of drive time."

"We’re having sleepovers already?"

"Guess so."

"You realize I can walk, right?"

He grunts, but keeps his hold on me, walking me through the apartment and to the bathroom. He doesn't even put me down to turn the water on or take his pants off. He doesn't put me down to step under the spray and adjust the shower head, so it's not pummeling my face. He holds me under the warm water, licking and kissing every inch of expose skin he can reach, kissing me until I'm breathless and needy. It's only after we're under the shower spray long enough for me to I grow hard again that he puts me down. We soap each other from head to toe, and he makes me come again with his hand wrapped around my cock and whispered affirmations that I'll be the death of him.

The incessant buzzing of Dom's phone tears me out of the deepest sleep I think I've ever experienced in my life. Every bone in my body is leaden, unwilling to leave the warm cocoon I've been wrapped up in all night.

Dom.

The realization that last night wasn't just some fever dream is confirmed when the arm around my waist tightens, and he pulls me firmer into his wide chest. His scruff tickles my neck when he buries his face and inhales me like a much-needed cup of coffee. I stiffen in his hold, momentarily worried that, in his sleepy daze, he might not realize who he has in his bed. I don't want to witness his reaction when he remembers what happened. So I close my eyes and will my mask in place so the inevitable "it won't happen again" conversation can happen. Again.

His delicious weight against my back pushes me into the mattress as he leans over me to reach for his phone and turn the alarm off. We'd abandoned my things in the studio last night, so I had Dom set an alarm for me.

"It's so early," he groans. "Can't we have another half an hour?"

"You can have as long as you want. I, however, need to get my stuff from the studio and get out of here before I'm caught doing a walk of shame out of my uncle's apartment."

He groans. "Don't say uncle."

I scoff and turn in his arms. To his credit, he doesn't release me or act awkward. His eyes are closed, face half shoved in the pillow, but he's grinning.

"Because you like Daddy better?"

Now he releases me, throwing his arm over his eyes and dramatically groaning even louder. He likes that but doesn’t want to admit it. "You're seriously going to kill me."

I can't help but snicker as I attempt to extricate myself from the soft warmth of his body. His arm wraps around my waist and yanks me back before I can get far, rolling us until I'm underneath him.

"I really have to go," I say, laughing despite myself. I don't want to admit how good it feels to wake up in someone's arms like this. Or that the way he's smiling and attempting to coax me to stay makes me feel special. It's ridiculous.

He answers me by ducking his head and kissing me softly, deepening it until my morning wood becomes a full-on raging problem.

"It's only five," he says, trailing kisses down my neck. "Dwyane won't be in until at least nine."

"I have rehearsal, and I need to go home and shower?—"

"There's a shower here."

"My clothes?—"

"We both know you have extras in your locker here and at work." He chuckles against my neck, and it sends delicious chills down my spine. "Try again, baby. What else you got?"

"Dom…" My resolve is quickly wavering. It's too easy to forget all the pressure I've been under, Emile's thinly veiled threats, Marissa not returning my phone calls last night. Everything is falling apart around me, but all I'm thinking about is how far down my body Dom's mouth has made it, and how much farther he'll go before— Oh, fuck.

I gasp his name as the heat of his mouth blankets my cock. He's more sure of himself than he was last night, and while I still wouldn’t consider him an expert, he's enthusiastic. For a novice, he's doing a pretty damn good job. And my fucking God, the sight of him with my cock in his mouth is almost enough to bring me to the edge.

"What are we doing, Dom?" My words are desperate, whiny, needy. Like the turmoil of my thoughts, my tone doesn't match the meaning behind the words. It's a mix of let’s stop and think about this , and please, for the love of God, fuck me so hard I'll forget everything else.

He comes up for air, replacing his mouth with a fist, pumping me steadily. Never taking his eyes off my dick, he says, "You have a long day ahead of you. I'm making sure you remember what's waiting for you on the other side."

"What does that mean?"

Regretfully, those words cause him to let go of my cock. He climbs up my body to look down at me, capturing me in his serious, onyx gaze.

"It means that I don't regret what happened last night. Maybe I should, but I don't. I know we need to talk about stuff, but I want you, Cam. In whatever way you'll let me have you."

I'm caught off guard, somewhere between arousal, nervousness, and emotional overload. I don't know what to say, so I don't say anything at all. I push back the fear and knowledge that this thing between us could never work in real life. I'm stuck where I am for the time being. He's destined to bust back into the spotlight, and our family would never understand. We're doomed before we even begin. Instead of words, I focus on the physical need that is magnetizing us together.

His cock is laying heavily on my lower stomach. Spitting into my hand, I wrap my fist around him, then push my body higher up the pillows so my cock is lined up with his. I can't quite get my hand around both of us, but Dom catches on quickly, wrapping his big hand around the other side of us, holding us together. He shudders with the first pump of our fists.

"Oh, fuck. That feels…" Dom's gruff voice trails off with a moan.

We move our hands in sync, the wet squish of spit and pre-cum making salacious sounds that blend with our heavy breaths and moans. Looking into his eyes is too intense, so I focus on the sight of our cocks together as Dom thrusts into our hands, his significantly larger cock rubbing hard along mine. Our bodies create a perfect contrast, opposites that seem to fit together seamlessly.

My hand tightens under his, desperate moans ripping from my throat. His mouth covers mine, swallowing my cries. Pleasure builds at the base of my spine and pools in my belly. My limbs are rigid with the impending release.

"My new favorite thing is making you come," he mutters, panting, "I never want to stop."

Heels digging into the mattress on either side of his legs, I push up, thrusting harder into our hands, seeking the perfect friction of his rigid length and his fist squeezing us together. With a choked cry, the hot wet heat of my cum splashes between us. Dom mutters a gruff curse, thrusting faster, dragging out my orgasm and bringing his closer. In the heat of the moment, my mouth gets away from me.

"Mark me, Dom. Cover me in your cum so I can pretend I belong to you."

Dom growls, a primal sound ripping from this throat that makes me feel dangerous and desperate. Cum shoots from his cock, hitting my chest and stomach in hot, sticky streams. My softening cock slips from his grasp, and he sits up higher on his knees, hovering over me. He pumps his cock, draining the last spurts of his orgasm all over my skin.

"You do belong to me, Cam. You're mine now, and I'll mark you every day until you realize that."

Pretty words said in the heat of the moment, but I still close my eyes and pretend I believe them. Dom presses a hand to our combined mess pooled on my stomach, smearing it up my chest until his hand is loosely wrapped around my throat. He holds me down, bringing his face level to mine again.

"Don't close your eyes, little dancer. We aren't done here."

Breath catches in my lungs, and I struggle to think clearly, much less force coherent words. I need to get up from this bed. To get out of this apartment, this building. Before anyone sees me. Before I can say or do something even more reckless.

I've barely opened my mouth to stutter out a response when someone pounds on the door. Dom startles up, fumbling off the bed. My eyes fly open wide as my stepdad's voice booms from the other side of the door.

"Dom! You in there?!"

Dom curses under his breath, scrambling to wipe the cum from his hands and stomach before running to a basket of folded, clean laundry. He tosses me a pair of black skinny jeans and a sheer button down, my clothes from the party. A pair of my socks and underwear fall on top of the pile. I use another part of the sheet to clean myself off as well as I can, knowing there will be dried cum all over me if I don't get a shower soon.

Dwayne pounds on the door again, and then I hear the unmistakable sound of a key in the door just as I'm pulling on my briefs. Fuck! I look around at the disheveled tangle of sheets. It's obvious what was happening in here.

Dom seems to make the same realization I do, darting his eyes around before grabbing a discarded comforter and throwing it over the worst of it. "It'll be alright. We'll talk to him," he assures me.

Nope. That's not what's going to happen at all. Not if I have any say in it.

"Dom! Wake up man, we've got to?—"

Before Dwayne can step fully through the door, I drop back onto the bed and cover myself with the blanket, curling into myself so that I hopefully just look like an extra pillow or pile of laundry.

"What the—" Dom huffs, then throws another blanket over me.

"The hell happened in here?" Dwayne says as he steps fully into the room. His steps move into the kitchen, and I pray that he doesn't look too closely at the pile of blankets on the bed. "Are you—" his voice lowers. "You have company? Today?"

Dom doesn't answer. My heart is beating so hard, I'm positive Dwayne can hear it from where he is.

"I see I've interrupted something. Guess now I know why you weren't answering your phone," Dwayne says awkwardly.

"Was there a reason you barged in like this at zero-dark-thirty?"

Dwayne sighs heavily. "You've got a weigh-in this morning. They need us there in twenty, so throw on some clothes and say goodbye to your lady friend. The side entrance will lock behind her when she leaves."

Damn, I've never heard Dwayne be so snippy. He's either really irritated that Dom clearly forgot about the weigh-in, or for some reason he's pissed off that Dom brought someone back here. He sounds exasperated. Does that mean Dom does this a lot? I'm not sure how I feel about that. Even though I'm the one that threw myself under the covers, I'm suddenly feeling very dirty about it. I pull the blankets up higher, not realizing until cooler air hits my toes that I've overcompensated. The bed dips, and Dom's hand rests over my foot.

"Got it, Dwayne. You can go now."

"We've got to be on the road, Dom."

"I heard you. Give me two minutes."

"One."

"Fine. Just get the fuck out."

Dwayne's heavy footsteps and the door slamming are the last things I hear before Dom is hovering above me, tugging the blanket down to reveal my eyes. The look of amusement on his face would be endearing if I didn't almost just have a heart attack. Jesus, if Dwayne was pissed about Dom having a girl over, how would he react to finding out it's actually me?

"I better go before he starts making me take tap dancing on top of everything else," he says, chuckling at my wide-eyed incredulity. How is he so calm right now? He bends down and kisses my forehead, then my eyelids, and nose, peppering me with affection as he gradually uncovers the rest of my flaming red face. "Shower," he says between kisses. "Eat something." His kisses reach my mouth, and he deepens the kiss for one swift swipe of his tongue against mine. "There's an extra toothbrush under the sink. You need it."

I gasp and push him off me. "You didn't just say that!"

He laughs and wrestles me back, holding my face by the chin so I can't escape his kiss. "I don't mind it."

Dom stands and pulls me up with him. The sheets and blankets fall off me as I let him pull me into a tight bear hug. "We'll talk later?"

I swallow deeply. "Yeah, okay."

"Have a great performance tonight. I'll be there watching you."

"Mom and Dwayne aren't coming until Sunday's performance."

"I know," he says simply, bending to kiss me one more time. "I couldn't wait that long."

With those mind-boggling words, he turns me to face the bathroom, giving me a soft swat on my bare ass to get me on my way.

A loud pound at the door makes me squeal and I take off running in case Dwayne is about to bust in again. Dom's booming laugh echoes as he grabs the last of his things and follows his brother, who I can hear griping down the hallway.

What is happening?

After the most amazing and confusing morning in my life, I head back to the studio to get cleaned up and dressed for the day. Dom's right that I have a change of clothes here. Since I mostly only ever wear workout clothes, and I sweat through them constantly, I always have extras. Dom was also embarrassingly right about my breath—it's terrible. It happens when my diet is very strict. I brush well, shower, and get changed. I’m contemplating doing my solo workout here before heading to the studio for morning class with the whole company, but I notice a missed message on my phone.

Marissa: We need to talk. Can you meet me?

There's an address, and a time listed. Thankfully, the place isn't far, and I'll have minutes to spare if I rush there now.

Me: I'll be there.