Page 58 of Freeing Camila

And when he kissed her again, there was no hesitation—just heat and trust, built on the foundation of everything they’d laid bare.

He lifted her into his arms. She loved how easily he did that. Like she weighed nothing. She wrapped her legs around his hips, feeling his hardness where she wanted it most. She was instantly wet, her panties soaked through.

Tearing her mouth from his, she gasped, “Wade. Please.”

“Patience, sprite.” He walked them to the bed. “I’ve got you.”

His actions contradicted his words as he dropped her onto the mattress. She giggled as she bounced. But then her laughter died when he hovered over her. The look in his eyes told her he wanted to devour her, but didn’t know where to start. She helped him out by grabbing the hem of her shirt and lifting it off over her head. Then she removed her bra. She loved watching how his pupils dilated as desire consumed him. She did that to him. It filled her with an incredible sense of empowerment.

He kissed her, then ran his lips across her jaw, down her throat, between her breasts, then over to suck a nipple deep into the warm recesses of his mouth. She gasped and arched her back. He slipped one arm behind her, his warm palm resting on her spine as he held her to him. He feasted on her, moving from one breast to the other. She was mindless with need.

He worked her pants off as she lost herself in the feel of him over and around her. Then he was moving lower. “How attached are you to these panties?” he asked.

“They’re just panties. Nothing special.”

“Good,” he rasped, his voice like sandpaper, before yanking at the waistband until the fabric tore.

“Oh my,” she cried. She may have been a virgin just a few days ago, but even she knew how hot that was.

He stared at her core, and she fought the need to close her legs. To hide herself away from his scrutiny. His breath, warm and intimate, brushed against her most private area as he murmured, “So beautiful. So mine.”

He was going for off the charts on the hotness meter. His words making her gush for him.

With his tongue, he swiped at her slit. Her hips jerked, and he placed an arm across her stomach to hold her in place. Again, he feasted. Devouring her until she was a writhing mess.

“Come for me, sprite,” he urged before sucking on her clit and pushing two fingers inside her. “Now.”

She didn’t think it was possible, but her body responded to his demand. She came apart with his name on her lips.

Before she’d even come back down, he was naked and pulling her on top of him. She straddled his hips and lowered herself down onto him, wondering when he’d had time to put on the condom. They both groaned as he stretched her.

“Ride me, sprite.”

And she did. She moved her hips, testing what felt good. They hadn’t tried this position yet, and she didn’t know exactly what to do, but instinct took over. She ground her clit against his pubic bone. She lifted herself, then dropped back down. Over and over until her leg muscles quivered. Then he took over. His hands gripped her waist and held her in place as he thrust up from below.

Feeling brave, she reached up and pinched her own nipple, which sent a shockwave down to her core.

“That’s it, sprite. Touch yourself.” She pinched the other one. “Rub your clit. Make yourself come,” he ordered.

She blushed, but then did as he said. But before she could touch herself, he said, “Wait,” and grabbed her hand. He brought it to his mouth and sucked her fingers, licking them until they were wet. “Now. Touch yourself.”

Hotness meter in overdrive. She moved her wet fingers to her clit and rubbed circles. Soon, she was breathless and moaning. Her release just on the brink. “Do it, sprite. Come. Come now,” he called out through gritted teeth as if he was holding off on his own release to wait for her.

Just as hot.

She exploded with a keening cry, a sound she didn’t even know she was capable of making. He followed her over, thrusting deep and holding her there as they came together.

When it was over, she collapsed onto his chest, breathing heavily. “Oh my God. It just keeps getting better,” she declared.

“Only because it's with you,” he replied.

“Only because it's withus,” she corrected.

Later, the room was wrapped in a hush, the kind that settles only after something sacred. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm halo across the sheets, their bodies tangled beneath them, legs brushed and hearts still echoing the rhythm they'd just shared.

She lay nestled into his side, her cheek resting against his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breath lulling her into serenity. One hand rested lightly on his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart beneath her palm. It grounded her—he grounded her.

He held her like she was precious. Like she wasn’t something shattered, just something he cherished—flaws and all.

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