Page 64 of Slots & Sticks
“Cam!” I gasp.
“You aren’t the only one, you know.”
A strange feeling tugs at my gut. “What?”
He exhales hard, not looking up. “That night in Reno, when you said you were a virgin…” He hesitates, laughs once—quiet, self-deprecating. “I didn’t say it back. My brain was screaming at me to keep my mouth shut, to not ruin the moment, to not make it about me. But—”
“What are you trying to say?”
He looks up then, eyes dark and unsteady. “Dot, I was. I am. You’ll be my first, too.”
I whisper, “You… why didn’t you tell me?”
His mouth curves, but it’s wobbly. “Because I was already terrified. Because for once, I wasn’t overthinking, and I didn’t want to break the spell. You looked at me like I knew what I was doing, and I just… wanted to stay that guy for a minute.”
The confession hits me in the chest—honest, awkward, utterly him.
He presses a kiss to my knee, voice barely there. “I didn’t lie because I was ashamed. I wanted this to be about you. About us.”
When he lifts his gaze again, there’s heat and fear and awe tangled together. “So if I mess something up tonight, you’ll know why.” His hand slides up the back of my calf. “But I’ll learn you by heart, Dot. I swear I will.”
I reach for him, fingers curling into his hair. “Camden.”
He blinks at me, uncertain.
“You won’t mess anything up,” I say, soft but certain. “Like you said to me that night. No such scenario exists. It’s you. It’s me. That’s all it ever needed to be.”
After a single nod, he looks up at me with dark and blazing eyes. “Lie back.”
I do so at once, lifting my hips to help him as he pulls off my panties.
He peels my panties down my legs, kisses the inside of one thigh, then the other. His breath ghosts over my center. I’m so wet I’m slick to the touch, my clit throbbing before he even makes contact.
The first lick is tentative. A slow swipe that makes me jolt.
“Holy fuck.”
“Taste so good,” he groans, then goes in again. This time, firmer. His tongue flicks, circles, then closes his lips around my clit and sucks—only once, but it’s filthy and focused and I make a sound I’ve never made before.
Camden moans like that sound feeds him.
“Fuck,” I whine. I run my fingers through his hair and arch my back to encourage him. “I need more. I need—”
I cry out as his fingers enter me. Goddamn, his hands are big. He can reach places my own fingers could never touch, and as they curl perfectly, I can only imagine how much fuller, how much more satisfied, I’ll be when it’s his dick instead.
Camden pulls away long enough to ask, “Is that what you needed?”
“For now. And don’t stop.” I give his hair a tug.
He laughs into the core of me, his mirth reverberating inside me as his tongue joins his fingers, fucking me open for him. I want more. I want him to lie on top of me, to hold me down, to fill me with his cock.
Camden’s tongue is inside me. Hot, determined, unrelenting. His fingers curl, find that spot deep inside, and—
Oh.
I come with a gasp so loud I’m sure it startles the birds outside. My back arches off the bed, muscles locking, pulsethundering in my ears. The orgasm doesn’t break over me—it tears through me, violent and bright, like a short-circuit in my spine. I don’t breathe. I can’t. I feel—raw and full and completely undone.
But he doesn’t stop. His mouth stays latched to my clit, his tongue coaxing a second wave out of me, sharper and more tender, like my body’s forgotten how to separate pain from pleasure. I twitch. I cry out. I curl around his head as if I could pull him deeper.
