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Pleasure thrashes me from the inside and I mindlessly writhe beneath him. I can’t get close enough but at the same time it’s too much. Cameron’s mouth on me is like that first night together but more intense. Then, we were nameless people fulfilling a transaction with no intention of seeing each other again. A wave crashes over me and I clench my thighs around his head. My orgasm is violent and beautiful and never-ending. I welcome it with screams of pleasure and pleas for more. Even as my voice breaks, I beg for him not to leave me.
His hunger is as insatiable as mine. Cameron doesn’t let up on me. Not when cum flows from my body, nor when I grab his hair with a harder grip. He gulps my fluids and returns for seconds and thirds until he wrings me dry and my legs fall helplessly to the ground.
As our pants paint the air with our satisfaction, Cameron crawls up my body and cradles my face. In the darkness settled around us, a tinge of worry shadows his gaze. “Talk to me. Are you okay?”
I take his hand and kiss his palm. “The only thing that would make my world better right now is if you let me reciprocate.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
Cameron
Friday is coming to a close and I still haven’t given Kenya an answer to her modeling request. Another question I’ve left unanswered, but for different reasons. I can’t keep deflecting her by fingering her or licking her to fulfillment, no matter how good she makes me feel when she comes apart in my arms. I’m deceiving her. She still thinks my music is a hobby and each day that passes it gets harder for me to confess the truth.
As soon as we enter the house, I leave her downstairs to pace the guest room with my instruments. I want more than anything to give her everything she wants. A picture of me playing on the drums is such a simple request, yet the closer I get to any instrument, the more my body resists.
There was a time where any instrument I knew attracted me like the opposite poles of a magnet. Now, we’re both pointing south with no way for me to to touch what used to give me an infinite source of pleasure and escape. Back and forth, I traverse the room, wearing a path into the carpet. The drums, keyboard, and guitar loom as menacing laughter plays in my ear.
Things are going amazingly well with Kenya and the instruments’ presence makes a mockery of what we’re building together. It’s gotten to the point that I lay awake hours after Kenya drifts off to sleep. I hold her tight to my side, fearful that I will be exposed. I can’t keep living this way.
I slump against the wall and slide to the floor with my head in my hands. Am I delaying the inevitable? Is my inability to touch the drums or put music to paper endemic of a bigger problem? Am I done with music?
Never!
Maybe music is done with me. As soon as the thought comes, an image of Kenya pops in my head as well as the sound of her melody. Yet another failure on my part. I should be able to write it down. I’ve started a few times, but every time I get stuck on a note and I try to sound it out on the keyboard or guitar, I freeze.
Round and round, voices scream inside my head of what I need to do, how useless I am for being unable to accomplish something that came easily to me for years. I’m spiraling and I have to get a hold of myself before I face Kenya, but I can’t.
“Cam! Cam!” Khadijah crouches down to my level grabs my hands from my face. “What’s going on with you? You weren’t answering my calls.”
I glance frantically at the closed door then inside the room. A relieved breath whooshes out of me when I realize I’m alone in the room with my sister.
“Cam, talk to me.” She squeezes my hands and I hold onto her like a lifeline.
“I don’t know what to do, Deej.” I raise my teary eyes to her.
My sister glances around the room then to me with a worried frown downturning her mouth. “Do about Kenya or the music?”
“Kenya…no the music…no, both? At this point they're both tied up into so many knots I can’t untangle her from the music and I have no idea where to start.”
Khadijah hugs her knees to her chest. “You haven’t told her about Liquid Obsession yet?”
I shake my head without meeting her gaze. “I’ve tried, I swear I have, but the words just won’t come out. And now everything is piling up on me and there’s no alternative.” I laugh a tortured sound that causes Deej to wince.
“Why is this coming up all of a sudden now?”
I stare at Deej. It’s not her fault for not knowing. I never told her, the one person I’ve shared so many secrets with. Am I ready to share the extent of my problems now? I’ve flippantly named the reason for my avoidance as burnout without hinting at how bad things are for me. I ignored when Khadijah didn’t take me seriously because I never presented her with how bad things were, but I’m falling to pieces and need someone to understand.
Deep down, I want it to be Kenya, but we’re too new for my baggage to burden our relationship. Not to mention, my problems will most likely come with a one-way ticket out of her life. It’s a risk I’m not willing to take when she makes getting through the day worthwhile.
Khadijah’s concern and impatience batter at me although she hasn’t followed her question with a dozen more.
I can no longer look her in the eye. I take a deep breath but the pressure in my chest builds until I blurt, “Kenya wants to draw me playing the drums.”
Deej falls on her butt.
I sneak a peek.
She has an incredulous scowl on her face. “That’s it? Playing the drums is a breeze for you, so why is it the end of the world?”
