It sounded just like a rip.
“That was my only matching pair to the bra!” I cried out, voice mercifully muffled by the grass.
“I’ll tattoo you some new ones,” he answered roughly. I felt his fingers slide down the crack of my rear, and before I could protest or freak out he slipped his hand underneath my pelvis and pulled me up until my ass was in the air.
I could hear him let out a long breath and could feel his eyes burning a hole through my skin. I was starting to feel uncomfortable, afraid that he’d seen the scars on my leg and was becoming turned off, but all my fears were banished when he brought his palm down across my ass. It stung to high heaven.
Holy shit, did Camden just spank me?
There was another hard slap on my other cheek and before I could start worrying whether I was getting caught up in some wannabe BDSM relationship, I felt his hot, wet lips kiss both of the slap marks. I closed my eyes to the pleasure and let out a groan when his fingers slipped inside me. It didn’t matter if I just came, I was more than ready to go again.
I felt his presence move off of me and heard the rustle of something plastic. Seconds later there was the telltale sound of a condom wrapper tearing. You can almost hear the concentration when a man is trying to put one of those on.
With one hand holding me at the small of my waist, he entered himself slowly. With him taking me from behind, I couldn’t see what he was doing, I could only feel. And I could feel everything. Pain, mostly. At first. Pain that slowly melted into a wet warmth that seemed to saturate every part of me from my stomach to my nipples. I felt uninhibited, and considering I lived my life by my own rules, I felt strangely free. With each thrust, Camden drove himself deeper. He rocked me against the ground in a rhythm that felt as intuitive as it was pleasurable. He filled me up, the thickness building inside while my own pressure built on the outside. He tightened his grip around my waist, making me feel irresistibly petite and vulnerable and pounded me harder, faster.
His breathing became heavier, more laborious, and the occasional moan came out of him that made my urge to come triple. He went faster, harder and just when it sounded like he might lose it, I felt his fingers at my clit, working me into a frenzy with him. We came at the same time, groaning loudly, panting quietly, trying to control the volume. But, hell, if a neighbor were to stick their head out their window and see a tattooed god ramming a chick in the neighbor’s backyard all lit by romantic lights, they’d probably watch. I’d watch too.
When the shockwaves slowed their roll through me and my mind and body were coming back to earth, sorting through the delicious high of endorphins, I collapsed on my elbows, too blissed out to move. The grass could eat me alive and I wouldn’t care.
Camden lay beside me, his head propped up by his hand, facing me. Still totally nude, breathing hard but with a smile that matched mine. Satisfied.
“So, I think the steaks are ruined,” he said lightly, between breaths.
I sniffed the air, catching a whiff of charcoal from the burned steaks, and made a sad face. “Aw, I’m sorry.”
“I’m not,” he said. “I’ve waited my whole life to sleep with you, Ellie Watt. I can’t just pick you up from Safeway.”
I smiled, kind of embarrassed at that admission, and looked down at the grass. He was staring at me so earnestly, so…obviously…that I felt I should say something like that back. But I couldn’t think of anything except, “So if we substitute sex for playing dress-up, does that still count in Camden and Ellie’s Day of Fun?”
He grinned. “More than anything.”
A light caught my eye and we both turned to look. One of the lights in the neighbor’s window had just come on.
“Ah shit,” I said. Now that I wasn’t in the throes of passion, it turned out that being caught naked would be kind of embarrassing.
But Camden had quickly hopped to his feet and lifted up a wicker trunk that lined the patio. He brought a couple of fleece blankets, wrapping one around his waist and holding the other one out for me. He didn’t leer at me as I got to my feet or stare anywhere I didn’t want him to. He just wrapped the blanket around my chest and we quickly scooped up the clothes from the garden before we caused a scene. I grabbed the half-full bottle of wine, made another sad face at the overcooked food as he turned off the grill, and we scampered back inside.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Then
The girl hated gym class more than anything else. Even by the time tenth grade rolled around and she had made a few more friends, the class still scared the hell out of her.
By now, most of the girls in her class knew there was something wrong with her. Not just in the way she walked but they figured out she had something to hide, too. Some would come out and ask her what happened, others would ask why she always changed in the girl’s toilet stall instead of out in the open like everyone else.