Page 129 of Story of My Life
Sound and light temporarily disappeared from my existence. The only thing I was left with was sensation as the wall of pleasure crumbled on top of me.
“Fuck yes,” Cam groaned, holding deep as he ejaculated.
I could feel each throbbing pulse of his orgasm through the clamp and release of my own. Some ancient biological dance we were performing to perfection. It was better than good, better than right. It felt like a divine calling finally answered. I was alive and ravished.
The waves slowed, then weakened before finally ending. We lay there tangled together, sweaty and sated, still joined. Our breath coming in pants. I felt good. Like Jell-O made with champagne. Wobbly and sparkly.
I had never been so happy to have meaningless sex in my entire life.
“You okay?” Cam asked, his face still pressing into my neck. That ever-present stubble abrading my skin in the most delicious way.
I cleared my throat and went for casual. “Well, I mean, if that’s the best you can do. Yeah, I’m fine.”
He pinched my hip. Hard.
“Ow! Okay, okay! It was amazing. If I had any control over my body parts, I’d be reaching for my notebook,” I conceded.
He rolled us so I was sprawled on top of him. I propped myself on one elbow to study the ridiculous level of handsome beneath me. Maybe divorce and bald eagles were good luck because there was absolutely no downside to what had just happened with his cock in me.
“That was just the appetizer. Get ready for the main course,” he threatened.
“You’re not serious.”
“Told you the first one was gonna be fast. Now that we took the edge off, I can take my time.”
I wasn’t sure my vagina could afford to have Cam take his time.
29
THE OFFICIAL ASSHOLE RATING SCALE
CAMPBELL
We should talk,”I said, shimmying back into my boxer briefs. My body felt loose-limbed and sated. My muscles were relaxed. My balls were empty. Mentally, I could feel myself tying up in knots.
“About what?” Hazel asked, shoving a dip-coated chip into her mouth. She was wearing my shirt and nothing else, which made it hard for me to concentrate.
We’d eventually made our naked way to her sitting room and given the brand-new couch a worthy breaking in. I’d come twice, so hard that I earned a charley horse in my hamstring for my trouble. She’d hit a trifecta and then begged for food, so now we were having a fucking snack picnic on her floor, watching a trash reality show on the TV that was still propped against its box.
I liberated a potato chip from the bag and gestured with it. “This.”
“You wanna talk about French onion dip?”
“Hazel.”
“Campbell.”
She was going to make me say all the stupid things that I’d rather she just intuitively understand. “I want to make sure we’re clear on where things stand.”
“And where do they stand?” She muted the TV.
“I’m not looking for…anything.” Anything besides more of what we’d just done. A lot more. But I didn’t want to sound like a sex-obsessed asshole.
Unconcerned, she steered another chip through the container of dip. “What kind of anything are you not looking for?”
“You know. The relationship kind.”
The chip paused halfway to her mouth. “Do you not remember the very formal agreement we signed before you put your dick in me on my desk?”
