by Kennedy Fox
I’ve wanted her for so long and can’t deny how incredible it feels to have her mouth on me. Tilting my head, I watch as she devours every inch of me. I fist her hair and admire how gorgeous she looks on her knees.
“You suck me so fucking good, Cami.” My eyes roll back. She twists her wrists, stroking me faster and harder while twirling her tongue like a goddamn goddess. “Shit.”
My arms fall, unable to concentrate on anything other than how good she’s making me feel. I’m already close and about to explode. With a loud pop, Cami leans back and wipes her mouth. She flashes a wide, perfect smile, then gets to her feet.
Confused, I glare at her. “Uh…” I clear my throat, unsure of what I’m supposed to say.
“You finish inside me, or you don’t finish at all.”
“You know I can just get myself off, right?” I challenge, shifting uncomfortably in the chair.
“Sure, but you’ll have to live with the fact that you chose your hand over my pussy.”
“Cami,” I growl. “Quit being a sadist and get your sexy mouth over here.”
“Mmm…nah. Good luck with that.” She points at my painful erection and winks, then walks away.
I’m not about to let her get her way and win, so I quickly pull up my shorts and follow her. She sees me coming and runs.
“No! Go away!” she scream-laughs, rushing up the stairs as fast as she can. Before she gets to the third floor, I grab her wrist and yank her to my chest.
We’re both panting and smiling as she tries to escape my grip. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To my room. Alone.”
“Wouldn’t you rather have some company?” I arch a brow, pushing her into the wall with my hips so she can feel my cock rub against her. If she wants to play games with me, I’ll make the next move and show her who’s gonna win this battle.
She glares at me, looking like pure temptation, and shrugs. “I got off. You’re the one with blue balls.”
Burying my face in her neck, I chuckle against her ear as I slide my hands over her body. “I have plenty of bikini images of you in my spank bank to finish what you started, but you wanna know the best part? You’re not talking in any of them. I’ll blow my load in less than ten seconds flat.”
Cami gasps, pushing hard against my chest, and I release her. She sneers and takes off to her room, slamming the door behind her.
I can’t help laughing as I make my way to the kitchen to clean up the mess. She has no idea what she’s in for if she thinks I’m just another person who’ll give in to her demands with the snap of her fingers. Granted, I want to fuck her senseless until we’re both panting, but I’m not giving in that easily. If she wants me, she’s going to have to work for it.
After everything is cleaned, I take Bruno outside for his daily exercise, then jump in the shower. I can’t wipe the grin off my dopey face when I relive Cami’s lips on me. That image will forever be ingrained in my mind no matter what. It’s a fantasy I’ve had since I was a teenager, and as soon as it became a reality, it was programmed into my eternal memory.
I reply to emails and take a couple of video calls to appease my boss, but it’s a waste of time, considering nothing’s changed in the past few days. I’m keeping in contact with my clients and trying to prove myself, but I refuse to be annoying and pushy when so many jobs have been furloughed, and people have been laid off. I’m fortunate I can do some of my work from home and still earn a paycheck, so I’m not taking that for granted, but I’m also empathic.
I can put people first and be good at my job, regardless of what my supervisor thinks.
Checking my phone, I notice a missed call from Ryan and immediately worry. I return it, but he doesn’t answer, so I text him instead.
Elijah: Sorry I missed your call. I was on a conference call. Everything okay?
Ten minutes later, he finally responds.
Ryan: As much as it can be, I suppose. Shit is freaking crazy here. Just checking on you guys. Cameron said you had an asthma attack yesterday. Are you alright?
I’m surprised Cami told him or that she’s talking about me to him period. I’m tempted to ask if she mentioned the panic attack she had the other day, but I won’t air her business in case she doesn’t want him to know.
Elijah: I’m fine. Freaked her out, though. She nearly nose-dived the concrete running to get my inhaler.
Ryan: She would’ve had a royal meltdown if that had happened.
Elijah: Trust me, I saw a glimpse of that while she changed the smoke detector battery.
Ryan: You mean you got her to actually help? What kind of spell did you cast on my sister?
I’m tempted to fuck with him and tell him what else I got her to do, but I don’t need him thinking I’m using her because I’m not. I also don’t want a brotherly speech from him about not hurting her. He knew how much I crushed on her in high school, but he has no idea it never stopped.
Elijah: It’s the quarantine, man. She even loaded the dishwasher this morning.
Ryan: Shit. I think she’s cracked.
Elijah: Haha…wouldn’t surprise me. She’s gonna have a hard lesson in doing laundry soon.
I chuckle to myself because I’m almost certain she’s gonna need to wash her clothes in a few days.
Ryan: Just don’t let her near the stove. She’ll burn down the cabin, and then you’ll both be homeless or recovering in the burn unit.
Elijah: Considering she doesn’t know how to turn it on, I’m not too worried. I’ve been cooking to prevent any hazards.
I feel guilty talking shit about Cami to her brother, but if I start throwing out compliments, he’ll grow suspicious.
Ryan: Good. I wouldn’t be surprised if this shit lasts for months, so get comfortable.
I’m torn on how I feel about that. Honestly, I don’t mind being away from the city, especially with Cami here, but the consequences of an epidemic are terrifying. What long-term effects will it have on the people and our economy? Only time will tell.
Elijah: Please be safe. I worry about you.
Ryan: I’m doing my best with what we’ve got. Taking all the precautions I can.
Ryan: I gotta run. Love you, man. Take care over there, okay?
Elijah: Will do! Stay safe!
I set my phone down and say a quick prayer for my best friend and all the frontline workers. I’ve always looked up to him, but now even more. Ryan’s my hero.
Though I read the news every morning before I get out of bed, I only allow myself ten minutes because the government’s handling of this is a mess. No one can agree on anything, and it’s like watching toddlers fighting over toys. Watching the press conferences or reading the briefings only spike my anxiety and nerves, and if there’s anything I can control during this time, it’s how much outside noise I allow in while keeping my ass at home.
Deciding I need a break and to leave this room, I head downstairs with Bruno, plop on the couch, and click on Netflix. I’m in the mood for something that’ll keep me interested for a few hours, so I end up clicking on an original documentary about a guy who owns a tiger zoo and needs a different hairdresser. Within thirty minutes, I’ve asked myself what the fuck at least a dozen times.
“This guy is bat-shit crazy,” I mutter after finishing the second episode. It’s a train wreck, but I can’t look away and end up clicking on the third episode.
“Who’s bat-shit crazy?”
I look over my shoulder and see Cami holding her cat as she walks toward me.
“This redneck with a bleached mullet,” I explain. She’s quieter than usual and looks nervous. “What are you doing down here?” I assumed she’d stay in her room the rest of the night, doing homework and staying pissed at me.
She shrugs, biting down on her plump lower lip. “I got hungry, and I need to refill Chanel’s water.”
“I could make something,” I offer. “I’m hungry too.”
“Okay, thanks.” She rounds the corner and sits in the reclin
er. “Wanna watch the first episode while I cook? Or I can give you a recap and catch you up?”
“Sure, I’ll start it, and you can fill me in on the rest when you’re back,” she says sweetly. The tension in the room is so thick, I nearly choke on it, but we’re not bickering, so I won’t set her off on purpose.
I restart the first episode and smirk. “Get ready for the best shitshow of your life.”
Cami shivers and reaches for a throw blanket.
“Are you cold?” I ask. “I can make a fire.” One of the best things about this cabin is the wood-burning fireplace. None of that propane, press a button crap.
Yesterday, I noticed there wasn’t much wood left, but maybe enough to last tonight. There might be more in the shed, but if not, I’ll have to chop some so we have it for the next few weeks.
“Yeah, that’d be nice,” she answers.
I get it started, and her face contorts when the first episode begins. It makes me laugh.
“This is what you’ve been watching?” She looks just as confused as I was.
“Hey, I’m blaming it on the quarantine. Plus, the memes I’ve seen for this are fucking hilarious, so I had to see it for myself. So far, it hasn’t disappointed in the entertainment department.”
“But why does he look like that?” She cringes, curling her legs underneath her and settling into the seat. She’s more invested than she’s willing to admit.
I dig through the fridge and pantry, trying to figure out what to make us. I’m in the mood for some comfort food, and when I see the can of tomato soup, I remember how she said she was craving a grilled cheese sandwich yesterday.
Grabbing all the ingredients, I put together four sandwiches and two bowls of soup, then grab a few napkins. It looks so damn good, I’m ready to dive in before I deliver it to her.
“Oh my God. That smells heavenly,” she says, moaning when I set it all on the coffee table. She perks up, her mouth opening in surprise. “You remembered. Thought you said I had to make this for you?” She raises her brows.
“Sounded too good to risk you screwing it up,” I tease.
She stares at me for a moment, her eyes softening as I meet her gaze. “Thank you for this.”
“You’re welcome.” I take a seat on the couch and reach for one of the plates and bowls. “I wasn’t sure if you liked extra cheese in your tomato soup, but I sprinkled some in anyway.” I grin, remembering how dead set she was on eating low-fat cheese when we arrived.
“Mmm.” She hums around a spoonful. “So good.”
“You better calm down over there. You’re getting my dick excited with all that moaning.”
Cami quickly covers her mouth as she spurts hot liquid from her lips. Her shoulders bounce up and down as she laughs, trying to swallow down the soup. “Don’t say shit like that when I’m eating.” She wipes her mouth on a napkin.
Chuckling, I shrug. “Sorry. Don’t moan like that then.” Though I really like hearing it come from her. Especially when she’s underneath me.
“I was moaning about the food,” she emphasizes. “Quit being a perv.”
I flash a smirk when she glares at me. “Don’t make noises that remind me what it felt like having your mouth on me.”
She blushes, and instead of throwing a retort at me, she focuses on the TV and tries to ignore me. It’s cute, but this is just foreplay for me.
Driving Cami insane the same way she drove me wild is just the beginning of what I know is to come.
Chapter Thirteen
CAMERON
DAY 7
I’ve been at the Roxbury cabin for a week, and somehow, it feels like a month has passed. Though it hasn’t been horrible, it’s been a drastic change from my normal routine.
My daily schedule used to consist of two to four classes, meeting up with friends for lunch or a quick shopping trip, and then studying for a bit before Zane and I went out for dinner. On the days I only had a couple of classes, I’d work out or go to a yoga class with Kendall. We’d also do spa days every week that consisted of pedis, manis, and body waxes. Massages were a bi-weekly adventure, and my hair would get cut or colored every four weeks. If the paparazzi are going to take pictures of me, the least I could do was try to look put together to avoid their criticism, but that didn’t always work. They’d catch me off guard, then blast rumors. Oftentimes, I wouldn’t feel good enough based on what they wrote, and my self-esteem would take a hit. Regardless of their opinions, I took so much for granted and kinda miss my old lifestyle. I don’t know if things will ever be like it was before. In a few months, I’ll be graduating with my undergrad degree, then I’ll start my postgraduate classes. Eventually, I’ll take over more responsibility in the company while I finish my master’s, and then I will shift to a higher position. I shouldn’t complain, but I’m grieving everything I was accustomed to.
But it could definitely be worse, so I’m counting my blessings. I remind myself this isn’t forever. It’s temporary, and if Ryan and all the other essential workers can risk their lives and work on the front lines, then I can suck it up and stay here for as long as it takes.
After my embarrassing tantrum in front of Eli yesterday, I know I’m slowly losing it. Being trapped here should be fucking easy. I’m safe. I have everything I need and more, but I’m going stir-crazy without being able to see my classmates, professors, friends, brother, and parents.
I didn’t anticipate the emotional aspect. I’m pretty stable, considering all the shit I’ve had to deal with in my life, and I just wish people knew the real me.
The media never highlights the positive things I do. They never talk about how I donate my time to help charities, attend fundraisers, rally for women’s rights and equality for all, and I even proposed grants for underprivileged students so they could afford to attend NYU. Unfortunately, the tabloids have created a persona that’s not me, and I’m not sure if I’ll ever have an identity of my own. The biggest disappointment is knowing Elijah grew up thinking those things about me too. Though I haven’t always presented myself in the best way, I’m still human and make mistakes. And I can admit when I’m wrong or I’ve overreacted.
I felt awful for the way I treated Eli yesterday, so that’s why I went into the living room. Besides being hungry, I wanted to see if he was downstairs so I could apologize. Instead of ignoring me like I deserved, he brushed it off and made me the best damn grilled cheese I’ve ever had. As we watched his weird but equally entertaining documentary and ate our dinner, the fire crackled. It was the most relaxed I’d been in days. The setting felt romantic, but after the way things ended earlier in the day with me on my knees under the table, I was too embarrassed to sit on the couch next to him.
Eli’s the most forgiving person I’ve ever met. He didn’t force me to admit my wrongdoings, so I want to thank him and return the favor.
It won’t be much, but I’m going to try to make breakfast this morning and hopefully smooth things over with him. If we’re going to get through this together, we can’t argue like we have the past seven days.
Chanel rolls to her back, waiting for me to give her tummy scratches. The sunlight beams through the drapes, and I know if I’m going to beat Eli to the kitchen, I need to get moving.
“C’mon, girl. We can’t stay in bed all day.” I pet her for a moment, then push off the covers.
As soon as I stand, I hear a weird noise. A loud, continuous thumping echoes and when I peek out the window, I see Eli by the shed chopping wood. He’s in dark blue jeans, a college sweatshirt, and wearing a beanie with his hair down. Simple but somehow, so damn sexy. Bruno runs around barking, happier than ever, and buries his nose in the snow as he eats it.
I’m mesmerized as I watch Eli pull his arms back and strike the log, splitting it in half. He makes it look so effortless. Without him here, I’d be fucking doomed. Even if Zane hadn’t broken up with me, we might’ve lasted forty-eight hours without calling our parents to rescue us. I appreciate Ryan sending Eli here more than he�
�ll ever know. Otherwise, I’m not sure what I would’ve done.
I head to the kitchen and am relieved when I don’t see breakfast already made. He probably doesn’t expect me up this early, which is perfect. I can ace college exams and outsmart professors who’ve been teaching for decades but ask me how to make an omelet, and I become a freaking moron. But hell, I’m determined to learn.
Digging out the egg carton, shredded cheese, and ham, I set everything on the counter, then grab my phone to search for a YouTube tutorial. Undoubtedly, someone’s made an instructional video on how to properly do this.
I’m relieved to find a decent one by an actual chef and get started. I dice the ham steak first, then crack three eggs into a bowl and whip them with a fork. The instructor says to use an eight-inch pan, and when I dig around the cupboard, there’s at least three different sizes. Shamelessly, I picture Eli’s cock and figure out which one is eight inches by how big he is.
Next, I turn on the stove and add the vegetable oil and butter to the pan like I’m told. “That’s a lot of freaking butter,” I murmur when I see how much coats the bottom.
Once it’s hot, I add in the whipped eggs. It sizzles and the oil flicks up and burns my finger.
“Fuck,” I hiss, grabbing a towel, then rewind the video, knowing I missed a step.
I’m confused as hell and quickly dig around in the drawers in search of the same utensil used by the instructor. Realizing we don’t have one, I grab the next best thing, which looks like some kind of flipper device.