Page 51 of Freeing Camila

Her chest rose and fell with each shaky breath, and when she looked up into his eyes, she saw none of the judgment or hesitation she’d feared. Only quiet reverence. Like she was something fragile and powerful all at once. Like he understood that this wasn’t just about physical closeness—it was about trust, and surrender, and letting someone in when you’ve spent your life locked away.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered against her skin, voice low and rough. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

She wasn’t. Not anymore.

He made her feel safe in her own body, safe in this moment.

With ease, he slid from her embrace onto the bed beside her, and, without hesitation, he started to unbuckle his belt. The metallic click of his belt buckle echoed in the quiet of her room. Her fingers itched to help, but she was too nervous. She watched instead as he removed his jeans, then his boxer briefs.

His cock stood long and proud. Unable to resist, she turned to her side and touched him. First the tip, where a small bead of pre-come had formed. Then down the shaft. His moan encouraged her, and she wrapped her hand around him. From base to tip, she stroked, amazed at the velvety hardness. His hips jerked, moving him through her hand as if he couldn’t control himself. She liked that feeling of power. Like she could give him pleasure, but could just as easily take it away, something she’d never even think of doing. She wanted to give him all the pleasure, just like he had for her. She was not completely confident about using her mouth for that just yet. Maybe in the future.

But for now, she focused on pleasing him with her hand. Deciding her other hand needed to join the fun, she cupped his balls, testing their weight. His sounds grew louder, spurring her on until he pulled her hands away from him.

“Keep going like that and this will be over far too soon,” he rasped.

She liked that. Not that she wanted it to be over yet. But that she’d pleased him so thoroughly that he was on the edge.

Distracted by her thoughts, she nearly missed him taking out a condom?where had that come from??and rolling it onto his cock. His protectiveness brought a smile to her face, and she loved it.

Then he was hovering over her again, his cock teasing her entrance. “If at any time you need this to stop, all you have to do is say so and I’ll stop. Immediately. No questions asked. Okay?”

Her heart melted. He was protecting her again. “Okay.” But she knew she would never want this to stop. Never wanted it to end. Even before it began, she knew that.

She was so wet, so primed, that he easily slid the tip inside her. She felt the stretch, then a slight pinch of pain that went practically unnoticed as he kissed her hard.

He pushed further. Deeper. Slowly penetrating her until he was in completely. There he paused, giving her time to adjust. She didn’t want time. She wanted him to move. Needed him to move.

She flexed her hips, and he moaned into her mouth. “Fuck, sprite. You’re so tight. Yet you feel so good.”

“Mmm. Yes,” was all her addled brain could manage.

He pulled back until just the tip was inside her, then flexed forward. A sound of pure pleasure, a gasp so intense it was almost a cry, escaped from deep within her lungs. The pressure of his body against hers was exquisite, each inch a jolt of sensation.

When they moved together, it wasn’t just passion—it was discovery. Her fingers curled into his shoulders, anchoring herself to him as his hands framed her face again, kissing her like she was a secret he’d been waiting to uncover. Every brush of skin was deliberate. Every kiss, a question. Every whispered word, an answer.

“So good,” he murmured.

She had never known touch could feel like this. Like she was becoming undone, yet knew he’d be there to put her back together again. She met him, thrust for thrust, as he picked up the pace. Sweat beaded on her body. Her nipples throbbed. Her walls pulsed. Every part of her was in tuned to every part of him. His hands caressed. His lips nipped and teased. His tongue licked, finding all the sensitive parts of her body.

She was climbing toward something. Ready and willing to launch herself off whatever she’d find at the top.

“Oh, God,” she cried summiting.

Colors flashed beneath her closed eyes. Pleasure swamped her. Sending her off. She gasped and cried. Clutching at him with her nails. Unaware of anything happening around her, focused solely on the feelings colliding through her body. A rush of emotions, like a tidal wave, crashed over her. A tear escaped, and he caught it with his lips. Her heart leaped as her body shattered.

She was still riding that wave as he gave a final powerful thrust, then held himself there. His body strained as he released himself deep inside of her. They were fused together in the way a man and woman could be. She never wanted to be separated again.

He collapsed but rolled to her side, careful not to crush her, pulling her with him. His hands, strong and gentle, held her close, a silent promise echoing in the pressure of his embrace, as if he couldn’t let her go.

As they lay tangled in the quiet aftermath, breath mingling, hearts still racing, Cammie rested her head against his chest. His arm came around her without hesitation, drawing her close.

After a while, he got up to take care of the condom. She watched him walk unabashedly into her bathroom, admiring the view from behind. He looked over his shoulder, caught her looking and smirked.

“What? If you’re gonna show it off, why can’t I look?” she declared.

“Look all you want, sprite. But be ready for the consequences.” With that, he stepped into the bathroom. The sounds of his movements—a gentle rustle, a soft splash—were all she heard before he returned with a warm, wet washcloth. Heat flooded her cheeks as he gently took care of her, his touch a feather-light caress. The intimacy of the moment was palpable, creating a feeling of closeness and connection.

She smiled, the corners of her mouth tugging upward. For the first time in a long time, maybe ever, she didn’t feel broken. She felt free. She felt powerful. She felt chosen.

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