by Sunniva Dee
She’s hyperventilating.
“Shhh, Inga.” If she’s not careful, she’ll be blacking out from lack of oxygen. She squirms. Alive, willing, wanting. Her panties—they need to go, and fast, because what she’s got under there is heaven to me.
These panties are black. An impulse sends my attention to the suitcase at her bedside. Red lace lingerie still taunts me through the open zipper. It makes me impatient to own her. Be the last fucking man standing or whatever—yeah, I’ll have her. Make her mine. Make her forget she ever was with anyone else.
“I hate red lace,” I whisper against her mouth. My hand slides over plump lips down low. I shut my eyes, letting the exquisite sensation overpower the jealousy. I dip in. I’m surrounded by warmth, by her pleasure. She’s quivering around me, leaving my balls tight with need. With two fingers, I stroke her insides. In and out. In and out. Her hips know what to do, how to angle into me and receive the most.
“Enough waiting,” she pleads. Oh, I’m a sucker for her pleading.
“Say please.”
My Inga is shameless. “Please.”
“So pretty,” I huff out. I try to get my clothes off quickly because I can’t let go of her skin, of her beautiful vagina that waits for more. “Say it again.”
“Please gimme…”
“Gimme, hmm? What?” I’m not really asking her to explain. I just want hot words, hot need, and she’s a giving person tonight.
“Please fill me.”
Hottest words ever.
“Shit, Inga—sorry, I can’t—” I want to warn her that I can’t be careful right now. There’ll be no dainty dawdling or soft sliding. I’ll do that next, on the second go, I think, until my cock takes over completely.
Legs spread wide, she receives me.
“Oh God,” is what she musters. Her body bends off the mattress, meeting my thrusts, taking me so deep I’m flying. I chase the thrill and our pleasure, sweat dripping, sliding over her skin. This crazy girl, she holds on to me, in for the ride, while the bed rocks to the wall in rhythmic bangs that increase in speed.
I’ve got some sort of primitive growl in my throat. It vibrates, accentuating what we do, and Inga’s breathing is out of control.
“Cam,” she sighs.
I think it’s pleasure.
“Oh God—baby…”
I know it’s pleasure. The girl’s coming apart like a landslide in my arms.
“You’re good… so good,” I grunt out, making no sense. No, I do make sense because she’s insane. I’m off my rocker over this chick. She’s killing me. She bucks into me in the aftershocks of her orgasm just as I let myself go too.
“Don’t ever take off like that again.” And that was me. Enslaving myself to her.
“Sure, I’ll come.” I sniff and stare at Cam. “What, you don’t think Scandinavians snowboard? You’re such a rat—you know we invented skis, right? Some Norwegian dude, although, ha, I betcha his mom was Swedish.” I stuff tampons into the shopping cart. Cameron grabs three boxes of cereal with marshmallows and chocolate, and covers the tampons with them.
“Rat? I’m a rat?” He snorts, entertained. “Your insults are so random.”
“Uh-huh, and Cam’s scared of tampons.” I smirk and tilt my chin against the heap he has created over them in the cart. “You bringing all that on the trip?”
He leans in and rips open a cardboard box. “Not this one.” Another rip, and the inner bag’s busted too, for his enjoyment. I make my way to the cashier with Cameron at my side crunching on mouthfuls of dry marshmallow crumbs.
It’s my turn to pay. I consider handing Cameron my menstrual supplies, though, because of his shyness. So funny: this is the same guy who shouts about using his dick as a greeting device in public.
As I pluck through my wallet for bills, the boy I bicker with and sleep with hangs on my shoulder, chewing. He’s obnoxious and delicious at once. I’d have him for brunch. Maybe I will.
“Dork,” I say.
The cashier is an older lady, who by the looks of it doesn’t approve of what we’ve got going on. Her silent objection is for the most part directed at Cameron. She glares pointedly at him while I pay, perhaps not in agreement with his early crackdown on the marshmallow goodness. She sucks in a sharp breath when I tell her, “At least he rocks in bed,” as we leave.
It’s been four weeks since Cameron invaded my apartment after work. I can count on one hand the times I’ve slept alone since then. Cameron isn’t much for space—there’s no arm-length treatment or retreating to the man cave of his mind. He wants to see me almost more than I need to see him.
It’s weird. Unfamiliar. It’s nice. I’ve got this nugget in my chest, right between my breasts and under the bone. If I had an X-ray, it would probably glow golden with the contentment I feel. It’s this crazy boy’s fault. He inflicts his sun on me.
“So back home to pack, then? We got everything else?” I ask.
He’s letting me drive his hobble-box so he can concentrate on munching. Feet up on the glove compartment, Cam chuckles from beneath the suspended cereal box. He holds it upside down as he shakes stragglers into his mouth. That was an entire box in five minutes.
“Got milk?” He waggles his brows. Then, he stares at my boobs.
“Oh my God, Cam!”
“What?” He’s all dumb innocence now. Innocence under streaks of wheat-colored bangs. “And no, we’re not leaving for another three days, so no packing until the night before,” he finishes.
I burst out laughing. “Right, because you have all you need in this car anyway.” A quick look in the rearview mirror assures me I’m not making stuff up. Even without the groceries, the entire back seat is filled with his extreme-sport gear.
“We can’t go in this piece of junk, though,” I decide. “It doesn’t have room for my wardrobe.”
Cam stops shaking the cereal box and swings to me, frowning. “Your… wardrobe? It’s the wilderness. You’re not thinking of bringing a bunch of…?”
Priceless! Of course I won’t bring anything unnecessary.
“Right, I’m shopping with Arriane later, and there’s a sale at the gown store down the street—don’t remember the name—got my eyes on this beautiful long red silk…”
“Oh, you little smartass.” He moves forward, inhibiting my view of the road. I slow down just as he grabs my chin and starts kissing me. “Any fur coats you’d like to haul up there?”
I slam on the brakes, giggling. “Yep, and furniture. My two duvets.” I can’t see beyond all the man in my face and have to pull on to the side of the street. “You’re balls crazy,” I manage between his kisses.
“And you’re balls yummy,” he twists my expression. “And I—” His hands are all over me, and we’re parked, hood of the car only, into a handicapped spot on Main Street. Once he strays below my waist and sneaks a hand up my skirt, I smack him on the head.
“—want to be balls deep,” he finishes his thought, not even flinching at my smack.
“Wow, that how you roll?”
“That is how I roll,” he nods out against my mouth.
“Clearly, you’re in love. And you guys are dating.” All of a sudden, Arriane is opinionated and as sassy as her son.
For the fifth time tonight, I roll my eyes at her. “Look, we’re not heading in Leon’s and your direction. We’re just playing. It’s fun. Neither of us needs to be chained down right now, and Cam doesn’t have a serious bone in his body, which is exactly perfect.” I make a duck face to Lyric on my lap and add, “I don’t either.”
Lyric squirms into position. We’re in their kitchen, where the coffee machine is dripping me a cup of fragrant coffee.
Actually, Lyric’s wiggling out of position. Half of his torso curves over my knees, readying him for a head-dive. I hold on tight around his chubby toddler belly. “Just because we hang out sometimes doesn’t mean we’re dating. We’re not exclusive or anything.”
“Yeah? Who else are you sleeping with, Inga?�
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“Shut up. I mean I could be banging whoever I wanted, like—”
“Troy?” Arria finishes for me. She bites her lip, trying not to smile. “Oh right, and Cameron is on a threesome spree.”
Someone invisible just kicked me in the stomach. I actually gasp for air, which makes Arria clap her hands together with glee. “Ha. I knew it. No, Inga, no worries. When would he have time for that anyway when he’s at your place every night?”
“Yeah, whatever. He can do what he wants.”
“Right, and you’d be fine with that.”
I chew on my lip. I would so not be fine. “Maybe I’d rip his dick off and stuff it in, um… the back of his car. It’s so full of shit anyway.”
Arria’s dying. Leon halts in the doorway, a barely visible frown on his face as he studies his girlfriend. Bent over, she’s cracking up so hard she sounds like she’s crying.
“Baby, are you all right?” He takes two protective steps in, stare glimmering between us.
“Ahh… yeah, it’s nothing, sweetie. Just—” She dries her eyes with the back of her hand and flicks her gaze up to meet his. “If Cameron cheated on Ingela, she’d rip his penis off and leave it in his car.”
“Ah.” Leon’s still surface ripples with amusement. “So not his mouth. His ass or something.”
“Apparently not.”
“Hey, makes sense. It’s Inga,” he says, walking off.
I’m packing. Obviously, I didn’t move to the States with a snowsuit in my luggage—I never thought I’d go snowboarding here—so Arriane and I went shopping yesterday. On the internet. Because Deepsilver doesn’t have a single store that offers what I need.
It better arrive like promised. If not, I’m in trouble. Or, according to Cameron, forced to buy my stuff at triple the price at the resort.
Yeah, I’m excited about this trip. Cameron, Dan, and Marek don’t usually do hotels and the full package. Besides the occasional motel, they go frugal by using tents and tiny heaters packed into said tents, supposedly hooked up to public restroom outlets. Then, they take off on their crazy excursions in the morning. But this time, we’re hitting actual slopes, not wild mountains without ski tracks, and Cam has booked us a real hotel room. Who knew he could be considerate? I didn’t even ask.
I’m smiling as I pack. Stuffing woolen socks and thickish sweaters into my suitcase. Cam is going to balk at my choice of a suitcase instead of a backpack. Can’t wait to show him. He has the late shift at Smother tonight, but judging by his parting words, “Fill you after,” he’ll be here later. Which will be soon, I realize, as I check my watch.
I straighten, making quick inventory of the situation. My toiletries will have to wait until tomorrow night, but apart from that and the snowsuit, gloves, and a couple of other details, I’m all set.
Sleep prickles against my eyelids, so I get ready for bed with a nice, hot shower and rub in some of that brown-sugar-and-vanilla body lotion that causes Cameron to groan happily.
Despite being partial to the scent of this lotion, he’s vocal about preferring the taste of my skin. I stay clear of my breasts and inner thighs, some of his favorite areas, in case he keeps his word about filling me when he comes back.
My sex clenches at the thought. God, it’s not like I’m desperate. I guess I just… really like us together.
My phone rings. It’s one a.m. I hit answer without looking, worrying about Mom and the guys in Sweden. I hope it’s Cameron calling with smarmy-talk from Leon’s office.
Or shit, maybe it’s Bo.
“Hey, Inga. Whatcha up to?”
It is Bo. My limbs go weak with the dark sort of adrenaline that instantly pours through me. I don’t need this right now, and yet there’s no way I can hang up. His voice…
He sounds happy, though. Bo’s okay.
“Hey, you know it’s late here. What are you calling for?” I bark, belying the way he sucks me in.
He chuckles that unconsciously soft, sexy sound that drives me and every girl over the edge. “I have good news. The guys are coming. I didn’t want to tell you until it actually happened, but yeah, the new manager I told you about? He got us a short East Coast tour, Inga, and guess where we’re starting out this weekend?”
My mouth is open. I shut it slowly. “You what? Wait. Back up. Clown Irruption is coming? Everyone?”
“Not like we’re that many, but yes, Hugo, Elias, and Emil are on the plane in…” He counts and finishes, “eighteen hours. It’s a two-week run starting in a town only a couple of hours from Deepsilver called Talco.”
Why does he do this to me? Out of nowhere, he’ll be here again. Okay, sure, it’s his career, but he chose the East Coast. Why not his side of the country?
Don’t be ridiculous. Of course they can’t pick and choose.
It’s hard to absorb enough oxygen.
“No…” I finally mumble.
“Ingela. You don’t have to come. Honestly. I’d love to see you, be with you, but I know it upsets you. Me too. I just figured I’d call on a high note for once instead of sniveling like a baby.”
I swallow a hard lump in my throat. Think of the cocoon of love we had in Los Angeles. We didn’t even fight. Then, I recall the sadness of leaving. The freaking mourning on the plane back to Deepsilver.
Adrenaline poisoning. That’s what he gives my body.
The door to my apartment clicks quietly, and light steps move to my room. I’m naked. Sitting on my bed with only a blanket across my lap and my phone crushed to my ear.
I’m fighting tears so hard. “Saturday?”
“Yeah, Saturday night in Talco,” he whispers back. Breaking me.
“Inga? Are you okay?” I hear from the door. I look up, see Cameron’s innocent face, the sun in my life, right there, waiting, not understanding. “What’s going on?”
Bo waits too. He’s not speaking. There’s no way he didn’t hear Cam.
“I…” My voice is so light. It fractures, falls, and I drop the phone and cover my mouth. I’m ruining everything.
No.
Bo is.
In two strides, Cameron’s with me. He scoops my body into him, curling me on his lap, arms bracing me and shielding me. “Baby, is everything okay? Your family?”
“Yes, I—” I’m sobbing. Clinging around his neck, pulling in warmth, and life, and unspoken promises. He’s here for me. He loves me… doesn’t he? At least he prefers me to everyone else. I can’t stop crying.
Shit. Shit.
The phone is silent on the bed. If Bo’s still on, he’s just listening to us.
“Baby, baby, baby—everything’s gonna be all right,” Cameron murmurs. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Grief and hope flood me at once. It’s so overwhelming I gasp for breath. “Are they still on?” He picks up the phone, and I reach for it weakly. He holds it out from us, eyes full of questions. They give way to reality when I answer.
“It’s Bo. He’s coming in two days.”
I’d had some homely comment on my tongue, up the alley of “honey, I’m home” when I entered Inga’s apartment. The words died on my lips. I’m not one of those people who always pick up on vibes, but I definitely did today.
She’s sobbing in my arms, and she’s sobbing over that fucking bastard who’s never going to give her a break.
“You’ve got to let that shit go,” I tell her. I’m her best friend. I fucking hate to see her upset. Inga’s not made to be upset.
My chest is tightening, probably with disappointment. For the last two hours at work, all I could think of was her sweet body. I doubt I’ll get any tonight.
“I know. I am—I’ve been good,” she mumbles, cheeks wet against my throat. Soft, dainty, warm, and inaccessible. That’s her right now. I’ve got her, though. Rocking her.
“So why’s he coming, then? Did you invite him?”
“No… band has a gig in Talco.” An involuntary hiccup jumps her body.
I kiss unruly hair. Breathe in a waft
of her soapy lotion. God, I love that smell. Makes me want her even more. “Well, you’re out of town, so this one’s easy,” I decide.
“No.” Her voice shivers, and I still my hand on her bare hip. Dig my fingers in to ease her nerves.
“No what, Inga.” It’s not a question. I understand, and I don’t accept what she’s implying.
“I can’t go with you. Not now that he’s coming so close to Deepsilver.” She looks up, eye makeup smeared. “Please understand. Bo and I have too much history. I can’t not be here when he comes. He’s got no one else—”
“Fuck, Inga. No. You’re not doing this. There’s no way you’re staying behind when we have an epic weekend ahead of us. I fucking paid for a hotel. It’s got a… Shit.” I let go of her. She’s still in my lap, but I need my hands to rub my eyes with, press a fist against my mouth to strangle the growl coming on.
“You’re hopeless. The room even has a Jacuzzi, all right?” I blurt it out now, even though I wanted to surprise her. “We were supposed to indulge in everything this weekend.” And I sound so pathetic I don’t even recognize myself.
“Please,” she says again. Her hand closes in, cups my cheek, and slides down my neck. I meet that gorgeous, smeared, watery gaze of hers and shake my head.
“No. No please. You’re fucking coming. I’m not going on this trip only to come home and find you in a muddle of depression again.”
“I won’t be. I’ll just go support him at the show.”
“You think you should?” I grab her wrist. Jerk it off my face and kiss the inside of her palm hard. “You do? Really? His band’s there, right?”
“I know, but—”
“Fucking use your head, Inga!”
She gasps. From what I say or what I do, I’m not sure. I tip her on her back, and I’m not being careful either. The blanket she wore is long gone, and now she’s bare and beautiful, not listening, nipples taut on nonexistent mounds.
I clench both her upper arms in my hands, holding her down, because it’s what I need at the moment, to at least have physical control.
“Damn you and your stupid logic.” I grit it out, the only way to keep my angry growl subdued.