Page 31 of All's Fair in Love & Chaos
“You can take it, baby. Knew you’d be fucking perfect,” he speaks while he pumps his fingers into me, my hips gyrating, pushing back against him. Then he increases the slaps, raining them down rapidly against me as my legs shake around him. The pressure builds and builds, my clit overstimulated, my corefilled and pulsing.
“I’ve got you, baby. Come all over me.”
Then I detonate, losing myself completely in the process. I greedily take everything he’s giving, and I let go. Just as I start to come, Camden shoves himself back inside me, and I see stars.
“Fuck yes, baby, you’re soaking me, soaking the fucking bed. That’s it,” he whispers as he continues to strum my clit, “look at you coming all over me. Such a fucking queen.” Camden pumps into me several times before he’s pulling out quickly, his hand grabbing his thick, glistening shaft and jerking it, aiming it at my abdomen. I watch with lust-filled eyes as he comes, his entire body shaking, ropes of pearly white cum splashing out onto my stomach, my name on his lips as he does.
Camden collapses on top of me, his body flush against mine, and the weight of him, the heat of his body, the rapid rate of his heart, and his struggle to regain control over his breathing, feel mind-blowing.
“You make the sweetest sounds when you come,” he tells me, and I know my cheeks flush with crimson. My body starts to relax, sagging into the bed as he scoops his hands between us, grasping my face.
“Holy shit,” he whispers, his chocolate-brown eyes wild and blissed-out like he just got a taste of the best high he’s ever experienced.The next thing I know, Camden is unlocking the cuff, picking me up, and carrying me bridal-style to the bathroom. He sets me down on my feet, reaching into his shower to flick on the water. In a matter of moments, the bathroom has filledwith steam.
Blame it on the post-orgasmic high, or pure shock, but I don’t fight him when he ushers me to step into the shower with him. I don’t say a word as his large, tattooed hands softly grip my hips, guiding me under the hot spray of the water. It feels so good against my skin, the stream beating down on my body. I’ve spent so many years being fueled by anger that I’ve never had a reaction to something like I am right now. This is what shock must feel like. Numbness. But I don’t feel numb at all, the opposite actually, like for the first time in a decade, I’m suddenly feeling . . .everything. It’s too much all at once.
Camden squeezes body soap onto his hand, and tears spring to my eyes as he gently, expertly, with all the care in the world, washes my body. It’s foreign. It’s intimate. It’s painful. His hands explore my legs first, dropping down to his haunches and rubbing soap over every inch of them, prickly skin and all, then he works his way back up, giving my hips a squeeze before working his talented, strong hands up my body. It’s not sexual; that time has passed, but it heats my core all the same.
When he’s finished, he stands naked in front of me, water droplets cascading over his muscular, tattooed body, his hair falling down around his shoulders.
“You may hate me here,” he says as he taps gently against my head. “But you feel exactly what this is right here,” he finishes, placing his hand over my heart.
Camden Young is going to be the end of me.
Unable to turnmy mind off, I spend hours tossing and turning, replaying the events in my head, the rest of the day going by in a slow crawl, filled with relentlessself-deprecation. I can’t believe I slept with him. The man responsible for ruining my life just made me feel things I’ve never felt before.
The way he touched me, the way he looked at me as if this was the best experience of his life, rewired my brain chemistry. I can’t reconcile the monster that is Chaos with this sweet, tender man who is Camden. I need to focus on what matters: avenging the death of my family. I’m such an idiot.
Our earlier conversation plays on repeat.
“I just wantyou to know, my test results have always been negative for everything, and I’ve always wrapped it up with other partners. Are you on birth control, or would you feel better if I got you Plan B? I know I pulled out, but I want to make sure you have everything you need to not worry.”
His words stun me. The care. The concern. I don’t want it. I don’t want any of it.
“I’m cuffed to the bed, Camden, I’m not going anywhere. Could I just be left alone now?” He has the audacity to look hurt, his lips turning down slightly, his eyebrows pinched together. I have the strongest urge to reach out and smooth the lines in his forehead, tell him why I hate him so much, give him an opportunity to explain, to reason with me. But that day won’t come.
“Yeah, I need to go talk to everyone. Why don’t you call your friend? It might make you feel better.”
I look away, my eyes focusing on the cracks that spiderweb up the old wall, ignoring the rapid rate of my heartbeat and how electricity seems to be flowing through me like a live wire. Camden retreats slowly, the heat of his stare warming the side of my face. I need to get out of here.
Picking up my phone,I open up my text chain with Seb, texting him our code phrase. The code I use to let him know I’m okay. With my extracurricular activities, we both know that every hit I take, I’m risking being my last. I’m rational, armored, untouchable, always using my head and never letting my emotions run the show. Figures the moment I do, I end up handcuffed to a bed with no way out.
How could I be so stupid? I stare at my hand clenched in the T-shirt I’m wearing, a simple, plain black cotton that shouldn’t mean anything, but the fact that it’s Camden’s . . . what the fuck has happened?
I’ve spent years building walls so high no one could scale them, but Camden didn’t even try. He held the key and walked right through a hidden door like he owned me. Like I was always supposed to be his. It’s not supposed to be this way. Camden is the shadow in every bad memory, the reason for every sleepless night, every night terror, every lonely holiday. He’s the reason I’m alone, that my parents don’t get to watch their daughters grow up, that my sister never got to grow past the age of fourteen.My sweet Willow.So good and pure. She’d never hurt a soul, and he fucking took her.
Now I sit in his bed, his scent surrounding me, lingering on my skin, and I fucking hate that it feels like comfort. My eyes burn with unshed tears, but I refuse to let them fall. I should be spitting Camden’s name like venom, and instead, I was moaning it out like a prayer while I let him inside my body.
Now, when I close my eyes, instead of seeing him wreak havoc on society, my parents unconscious in their crumbled car, while he and his crew ride off, I see the look on his face as hegently pushes my hair behind my ear. I hate him. I have to hate him. But hate shouldn’t make my chest ache like it does, shouldn’t make me crave the sound of his voice in the silence of this stupid room while handcuffed to his bed.
I don’t know what’s worse, what he did to me then, or what I’m letting him do to me now. Maybe this is how it ends. This won’t be an epic love story people write about. It’s a fucking tragedy.
I’ve betrayed myself, betrayed my family.
It won’t happen again.
Chapter Eleven
CAMDEN
