Page 58

We make it to the front door. I punch in the code, and the lock clicks. I push the door open. I feel Cameron behind me, his body filling the doorway. I turn to face him.

"I've always wanted…” I say. My voice shakes, but I don't care. "A man who couldn't contain himself, so hungry for me that he just—" I swallow. "I've never had that."

Cameron grunts and kicks the door shut. The sound echoes through the dark house, and then his hands are on me — not gentle, not measured, not careful. He shoves me against the door, and his mouth finds mine. The kiss is fierce and consuming. His hands grip my hips, pinning me against the wood, and I moan into his mouth.

"You want this?” His voice is a growl against my lips. “You want me rough?” I feel him, hard against my belly. He’s vibrating with lust, and … I’m desperate for it.

“Yes,” I manage to choke out before he drops to his knees in the entryway.

His hands yank my sweats and underwear down in one motion, and he buries his face between my thighs. I slam my head back against the door and gasp at the ceiling.

His mouth on me is not gentle. Not slow. Not the exploratory patience of last time. It's devouring. Desperate. His tongue works me like he's starving. I grip his hair, my knees buckle, and he holds me up with one arm around my thigh, like I weigh nothing, like keeping me standing while he eats me out is the easiest thing he's ever done.

"Cameron — god — I can't stand —"

He pulls back just long enough to say, "You can." Then he goes back in.

I come fast and hard, my shoulders pressed against my front door, his name shredding out of my throat. He doesn't stop. He works me through it, then he's on his feet, spinning me, walking me toward the couch, and his hands find my hips, bending me over the back of it.

This man is giving me exactly what I asked for, but it sure doesn’t feel like any kind of favor. He wants this, too. I can feel the yearning emanating from him, practically hear his blood roaring through his veins as he — there’s no other word for what’s happening —takes me.

I grip the cushions, feeling the cool leather against my stomach, as his hand runs up my spine under my hoodie. I'm shaking. Not from cold. From the intensity of being wanted like this. From the sound of his belt, the rustle of his jeans, the groan he lets out when he pushes against me.

"Tell me you want to be fucked like this,” he says, and even now — oozing barely contained lust — he checks. He asks.

"I want this. I want you. Please, Cameron.”

He slides inside me from behind, and I cry out because the angle is deeper this way, fuller, and his hands grip my hips with force. He sets a pace that's punishing and perfect, and I can hear him behind me, grunting, unleashed, the man who was so gentle with my sister an hour ago, now fucking me over my own couch like the world is ending.

"This what you want?" His voice is rough and raw, that thick Boston accent spilling out. “Dirty girl wants me deep and hard like this?”

"Yes — god, yes —"

"I can't hold back with you." He leans over me, his chest pressed against my back, his mouth at my ear. "You make me fucking crazy, Briar."

I press my face into the cushion and feel a second orgasm building, impossibly, already. His cock is gliding along something prickly and pleasurable inside me, turning my body inside out. His hand reaches around and finds my clit, and his hips drive forward, and I'm gripping the couch so hard my fingers ache.

"Come for me." His breath is hot against my neck. "Show me."

I shatter. My whole body seizes, and he follows a second later, slamming deep and groaning against my shoulder blade, his arms wrapping around me as he fills me with his release.

Heaving, gasping, he slides out of me and stands behind me. I glance over my shoulder to see him, wild-eyed, staring at the mess leaking down my legs. “So filthy.” His voice is ragged, and his calloused finger slides through the wetness, pushing inside me.

This is the most erotic, dirtiest sex I’ve ever, ever had. “Cameron,” I moan, shivering, needing something I can’t name. He pulls me into his arms, holding me as we breathe.

His arms are tight around my waist. I can feel his heart hammering against my chest.

This man can be so gentle and so physical. He is the most competent, patient observer I have ever met, and the way he took care of the person who matters most to me … and then took me home and gave me what I needed, too …

The thing I've craved and never had — a man unrestrained, unedited, trusting me enough to be his full self. The force, hunger, and intensity set loose because I asked for it, because I need it, because my body was built for exactly this.

He trusts me with the animal. I trust him with my sister. There is no greater act of faith I can conceive of.

Cameron lifts his head. He presses a kiss to my neck. Soft. The gentleness returns now that the storm has passed.

"Briar?"

"Mm." I can barely form words.