18+. Explicit rough sex, possessive talk, very detailed smut
After Cam and his girl break up over a photo, he can’t function and shows up at her door.
The rain was coming down in sheets, the kind that made the whole city feel like it was crying with him.
Cameron stood on her doorstep in a soaked black hoodie clinging to every cut of his chest and arms, buzz cut dripping, eyes bloodshot from too many sleepless nights and too much Henny trying to fill the hole she left. In one hand he clutched a bouquet of blush-pink roses wrapped in brown paper her exact favorite shade, The petals were soaked, but he didn’t give a damn. He’d driven through the storm just to have something in his hands that proved he still remembered every little thing about her.
Three weeks. Twenty-one nights of pure torture since that picture from the club blew everything up. One drunk half-second, one stranger’s hand on his waist, one flash that cost him the only woman he’d ever truly loved.
He knocked like a man possessed.
Wrapped in a black lace short nightgown that looked like lingerie. The hem barely kissed mid-thigh, sheer panels showing off the curve of her hips, nipples just barely hidden behind delicate floral patterns. hair wild and frizzy from tossing in her sleep, one strap sliding off her shoulder, eyes narrowed into slits.
She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed under her chest, pushing everything up like a threat.
“Cameron Amir Cade,” she drawled, thick in every syllable, “you got some big-ass balls showing up here at two in the morning looking like a wet dog holding flowers like that’s supposed to erase the fact you had some girl all up on you .
He swallowed rainwater and pride.
“These are for you,” he said, voice rough, holding out the soaked roses like a peace offering. “I know you hate when they get wet, but I couldn’t come empty-handed.”
She stared at the roses, then at him, mean-mugging so hard her lip curled.
“Clock starts now Cameron “
She spun, nightgown swishing against her thighs as she spun on her bare feet.
He followed, shutting the door, dripping all over her hardwood floor.
The apartment smelled like her peach candles half-burned, vanilla-brown-sugar body butter, faint weed smoke. The living room was evidence fuzzy blanket balled up on the couch, empty Häagen-Dazs with the spoon still in it, his hoodie draped over the armrest like she couldn’t decide whether to burn it or sleep in it.
She flopped onto the couch, legs tucked, nightgown riding high.
Cam peeled off the soaked hoodie, white beater clinging to every muscle, and dropped to his knees in front of her, laying the roses gently on the coffee table.
“I smiled for half a second because I was drunk and stupid and didn’t see the phone. I pushed her off right after. I swear on my life, on my mama, on these roses—nothing happened. But I know that don’t fix how it made you feel. And I hate myself for that more than you hate me right now.”
She sucked her teeth, looked away, arms folded tight.
“You looked real comfortable letting her touch what’s mine, Cam.”
“You are mine,” he said instantly, voice cracking. “And I’m yours. That’s never changed. Not for one second.”
“You don’t get to claim me after you let the whole internet think you were single and you didnt even attempt to clear it up.”
He reached for her hands; this time she let him take them, even if her grip was ice.
“I’m on my knees, baby. I haven’t slept, haven’t eaten right, haven’t smiled for real since you left. I’m sick without you. Literally sick.”
Her lip trembled, but she bit it bloody.
He brought her hands to his mouth, kissed her knuckles like they were sacred.
“ I see you everywhere. In my passenger seat. In my bed. On my lock screen. I’m lost without you.”
She broke then—ugly, angry tears, launching herself at him. He caught her mid-air, roses forgotten, her legs wrapping his waist, nightgown riding all the way up as she kissed him like punishment and forgiveness at once. He kissed back like a drowning man finally getting air, hands sliding under lace, gripping her ass hard enough to leave prints.
She ripped his beater off, nails raking down his chest.
“ fuck me like you miss me,” she hissed against his lips.
He growled, carried her to the bedroom, kicked the door shut so hard it rattled.
Clothes hit the floor in a trail his beater, his sweats , her nightgown torn clean off because patience was dead tonight.
He threw her on the bed, climbed over her, eyes black with need.
“Spread your legs. Let me see what I’ve been missing.”
She did—slow, defiant, lace scraps still clinging to one wrist.
He dove in lmouth on her before she could blink, licking slow, filthy stripes, sucking her clit until her thighs shook around his ears. She screamed, back bowing, hands fisting the sheets.
He didn’t stop until she came on his tongue twice.
Then he flipped her onto her stomach, pulled her hips up, spread her open with both thumbs.
Watched his cum from the first round drip slow and thick out of her.
Dragged his tongue through the mess, licking it all up, pushing it back inside her with his tongue, over and over until she was sobbing into the pillow, begging.
When he finally came up for air, lips glossy, chin dripping, he flipped her again, folded her in half knees to her shoulders and slid in raw with one brutal thrust that punched the air out of both of them.
“Look at me,” he demanded, hand gentle around her throat, thumb stroking her pulse.
She locked eyes with him, tears streaking her temples, mascara ruined.
He fucked her slow at firstlong, deep strokes that dragged against every nerve, grinding when he was balls-deep so she felt every inch owning her.
“I missed this so much,” he whispered, voice breaking, kissing her sloppy. “Missed how you clench when I say your name. Missed how you cry for me. Missed you—fuck—missed you every second.”
She was crying harder now, nails carving half-moons into his back.
He sped up—hard, punishing, bed slamming the wall, her moans turning into broken sobs.
He reached down, thumb on her clit, rubbing tight circles while he pounded into her.
“Come for me again, baby. I need to feel you take everything I got.”
She shattered squirting so hard it soaked his stomach, the sheets, the mattress. He growled, pace stuttering, then slammed deep and came with her—ropes and ropes, pulsing inside her, filling her so full it leaked out around him while he was still coming.
He collapsed, still inside her, arms sliding under her to crush her against his chest.
Kissed every tear off her face.
“I love you,” he rasped into her skin. “I love you so much it scares me. Never again. Never.”
She wrapped her legs tighter, keeping him buried, voice wrecked and soft.
“I love you too, fool. But if you ever make me cry like that again, you’re disqualified from my program.”
He laughed, shaky and wet, kissed her slow.
He finally pulled out, both of them hissing, then watched his cum spill out of her.
Immediately pushed three fingers back in, plugging her, curling slow.
“You keep that inside you tonight,” he murmured, kissing her deep. “So you wake up tomorrow still full of me.”
She moaned into his mouth, nodding, legs still trembling around his wrist.
They fell asleep like that his fingers inside her, her arms and legs locked around him, pink roses on the nightstand watching over them, rain finally quiet outside.
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