Stray for You (Rainbow Rescue Cat Café #3)

Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

Julian

I TRY TO WATCH something while Cam showers, but eventually the anticipation makes me itchy, and I flop onto his bed instead. I listen to the water run while staring at the ceiling. Does he really need to get that clean when we both know I have every intention of messing it up the second I can?

I bolt upright when the water stops. My heart beats far too hard. Maybe that’s why my head is so light. Yeah, definitely. That’s the reason…

Cameron emerges from the bathroom attached to his bedroom wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, and my mouth goes dry.

“Feeling better?” I manage to ask.

“Yeah. Needed that,” Cameron says, but his voice is weirdly quiet. His throat bobs. “So, um, anyway, I was thinking…”

If this is about dinner, I’m going to fucking explode.

He paces toward where I sit on the bed, pausing at the edge just out of reach. My hands tingle with the urge to grab him and toss him onto the mattress.

For a moment, Cameron looks at the carpet under his bare feet. Then he brings his eyes up to mine, his gaze determined.

“I want you,” he says, the words bursting out of him.

“I want you too, Cam. That’s why—”

“No,” he cuts in. “I want you a specific way. I want … all of it.”

The only reason I understand what he means is because I’ve known him so long. Cameron wouldn’t ask for “ all of it ” unless he really meant “all of it.” As far as we can go.

“I don’t do this that often,” he says. “But I’d like to do it tonight. If you want to.”

How could I not? I blink at him, too stunned to speak, then give in to the urges buzzing inside me. I grab him, throwing him to the mattress beside me. It dislodges his towel, but I get my mouth on his before I have a chance to appreciate that. He grabs for my shoulders and murmurs with surprise, but lets me keep kissing him, lets me drink in the taste of him.

I pull away breathless. Cameron swallows again, clearly nervous. Is that why he took such a long shower? It’s just like him to feel like he needs to be perfect when I couldn’t care any less. I don’t care if he’s sweaty from practice. I want as much of him as I can get my hands, and my mouth, on.

That thoughts sparks a bolt of inspiration. I flash back to the tub in that hotel room, to what I left undone when I flew back to New Jersey. No longer. After this night, there will be nothing left between us.

I flip him onto his stomach so abruptly that he gasps. I shuffle downward, grabbing his ass and spreading him open. Cameron is still grumbling with confusion when I dive down and finally get my mouth on him.

The complaints instantly wither into moans — but Cameron’s voice isn’t the only one filling up this heated bedroom. I’ve waited so long to have him this way, and I groan the moment I lick the tight ring of his entrance. Every shiver, every shift echoes on my tongue, unbearably delicious. I use the tip of my tongue to torment him, delighting in how he squirms with arousal under my hands.

“This isn’t … isn’t what I meant,” Cameron pants.

I pull up with a deliberately wet and filthy pop. “I know,” I say, “but I’m greedy. And this will make it better anyway.”

Cameron’s laugh is breathy. “You’re greedy? I’m the one just lying here.”

“And that’s how you’re going to stay. You’re mine tonight, Cam. You said so yourself.”

He doesn’t respond, but I can hear his every breath, and that’s response enough. I lower my head again, impatient with talking, impatient with anything that isn’t the feast awaiting me. I meant absolutely every word I said. I’m going to drown myself in him tonight. I’m going to know every intimate inch of him. I’m going to erase that distance of time and hurt and whatever the hell else is standing between us. If that encounter in the grocery store showed me anything, it’s that I don’t have much time to reach him, to convince him this is real.

When I get my tongue inside him, Cameron lifts his hips up at me. The first crack in his cool, icy exterior. His body betrays his desire as I prod inside, his hips pushing at me and his muscles relaxing under my attention.

I mouth over him, tongue and lips lavishing everything I can reach. My cock is going to punch a hole in my briefs, but it takes a few more licks before I finally pull away.

The sight that greets me almost ends the whole affair then and there.

Cam lies facedown on the bed, his cheek against the mattress to reveal panting lips and a glassy eye. He grips the comforter beneath him. His hips remain lifted, his perfect ass waiting for me.

“God damn,” I rasp at myself.

Then I’m flying out of my clothes, hands shaky and fumbling like I haven’t done this plenty of times before. It’s different when it’s him. It’s different when the person in bed with me is someone I care about this much.

I get myself ready at superhuman speed. Cameron shifts his hips with impatience, which nearly makes me fumble the lube. I swear I only manage this simple operation because it means I get to touch him and listen to how he sucks in a sharp, needy breath.

I almost get lost fingering at his hole. I could sit back and simply watch his reactions for the rest of the night, but my finger is sliding easily into him, and Cameron is rocking himself on the digit in a clear request for more.

Slow , I remind myself. He says he doesn’t do this often.

My heart somersaults. If he doesn’t bottom very much, why do it for me? My heart wants to believe it’s because he trusts me, because he perhaps even likes me, but that runs up against the fact that he’s hiding me while I’m here, that he’s ashamed to tell his mother I’m in town, that he’s keeping me at arm’s length.

I can’t focus on that. My cock is throbbing for attention, and so is Cameron, apparently.

I stand up on my knees behind him, lining my cock up against him. I let it drag over him a few times, the head catching at his hole but not pressing inside quite yet. Then he lets out the sweetest, most desperate mangling of my name I’ve ever heard, and I lose my tenuous grip on restraint.

Sinking into him is like enveloping myself in warm velvet. He squeezes my head so tightly stars burst behind my suddenly closed eyes. I resist the urge to delve in fast and deep, taking it slow in case Cameron isn’t ready. But I can only hold back so long. I push deeper, searching for more, holding him by the hips to feel for his slightest negative reaction.

“Fuck, Cam,” I groan. “You feel incredible.”

He doesn’t respond, and I pry my eyes open. He’s fully facedown in the mattress, his back curling to push his hips at me. His knuckles are white on the comforter, and every deep breath shifts the muscles corded in his back.

“Tell me, Cam,” I urge. “Tell me how you like it.”

He seemed to enjoy bossing me around last night, but two can play at that game. And I really do want to know what’s going through his head. He’s hard to read even when speared on my cock.

I drag back when he doesn’t answer, pulling all the way out even though my balls throb as I do.

“Cam, I’m not continuing until you talk to me.”

At last, he turns his head, and I’ve never seen that perfect tan skin of his so beautifully flushed.

“Fuck you,” he snarls breathlessly. “Are you going to fuck me or not?”

My cock screams. His words stab deep into my gut, tangling my insides like someone is trying to twist my innards into balloon animals. I can’t stand another word. I fit myself against him, pushing in faster this time. Cameron’s cheek is against the mattress, and I get to watch pleasure contort his face into a gorgeous disaster as I bottom out.

No more hesitation. I grip his hips hard and let myself go, pulling back to plunge right back in. He’s tight and hot around me, his ass squeezing me every time I thrust. Groans trip past his lips as I jam into him. Cameron even starts working himself onto me, shifting his body to match the pace of my hips as I throw myself into him.

I lose myself in our rhythm. I only feel half responsible for what’s going on here. Cameron’s rocking contributes just as much as anything I’m doing, until I can barely tell who’s propelling us through this frenzy of sweat and breath and desire.

Cameron wriggles a hand under himself, clearly reaching for his cock. I want to do it for him, but the sight of him pumping desperately as I fuck him is a temptation I’m too fragile to resist. He squeezes his eyes shut, his whole face tense with overwhelming need. And I want nothing but to pour more into him. I want nothing but to make him overflow, make him burst with how much he needs this. How much he needs me .

I dig my fingers in as I slam into him. The bed creaks in protest, but even if it collapsed beneath us I’m not sure I’d stop. Cameron is crying out uninhibited, his hand stroking frantically, his face crushed against the mattress as he throws himself toward and away from the pleasure I give him.

Let yourself have this, Cam. Just once, let yourself take what you want.

I infuse that wish into every snap of my hips, losing myself somewhere along the way. My body lies outside me, screaming for attention, but I’m transfixed by Cameron. Only when he clenches around me am I jolted back into myself.

I grunt with surprise, eyes snapping shut. My head tilts back as I delve into the intensified pressure inside him.

“Holy shit, just like that,” I moan. “God, that’s good.”

I don’t know if Cameron hears me or if he’s too lost for that, but he squeezes me either way, and fireworks pop behind my closed eyes. My body slaps against his as I claw after the edge and the sweet release awaiting us there. Cameron is crying out beneath me, so I dare not change a single thing as I seek out the peak.

It hits me like the sun appearing suddenly over the horizon. One moment, it’s all darkness behind my closed eyes. Then release explodes before me in a blinding white wave.

I feel like I scream, but it’s probably closer to a moan. I’m lost inside Cameron, delirious with more than mere orgasm. Even in a mindless moment of pure pleasure, I’m keenly aware that it’s Cameron who did this to me. Cameron, a guy I’ve longed to share this with since nearly the moment I met him.

I come back to Cameron moaning into the sheets as he spills over his own hand. Is it the same for him? Is that bliss etched into his slackening features because of an orgasm like any orgasm? Does it matter to him that it’s me?

My body is loose and light, but the relief doesn’t quite reach my head or heart. They remain heavy as I ease myself out of the beautiful man lying exhausted on the bed beneath me.