Cameron Taylor is an independent, strong-willed girl who happens to have a knack for violence. After completing her junior year at UCLA, she's not looking forward to spending a Summer at home. Besides having a dark past that she keeps locked away fr...
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Yeah, I'm fucked.
The shit show that was yesterday has been burned into my brain all night. I barely got sleep and the sleep I did get was filled with dreams showcasing reminders of what happened. As if I need them.
After our little forest make-out session, I drove us back home and Cam fell asleep in my arms on the way. A lot happened yesterday so I don't blame her. I mean, she danced and trained for hours all week, performed, and then tore her stitches on a bullet wound open. She had every excuse to be tired.
After we got back, I carried her inside while she was still wrapped around me like a koala, not wanting to wake her, much to everyone else's amusement. After setting her down on her bed, I took her jacket off, only to remember she was wearing my shirt. And damn if that didn't do things to my heart. And my cock.
Safe to say I had to jerk one out in the shower after that. It took me longer to shower last night, not just because of my insistent dick, but also because I had to rinse Cam's blood off of me. If I have to do that one more time, I might lose my shit.
I can't see her hurt physically or hurting mentally. If she hurts, I hurt. I don't have any explanation for it but it's true.
That's what got us into our own little world yesterday anyway. Every word she screamed at me was true. I don't know how to express my worry for her. Anger is my go-to emotion. But what caught my attention was her saying it's her go-to as well. Not to mention her saying she cared about me too and had a good day, partially because of me. After that speech, my head was all over the place. All I knew was that I was pissed that she figured me out so easily, yet again, and that I wanted to kiss the shit out of her.
So I did.
And fuck, did we do so much more than that.
We dry-fucked like teenagers on the back of a motorcycle in the middle of the woods, while she had no pants on. I feel like I'm living every fourteen-year-old boy's dream.
Every damn moment of what we did on that bike has been replaying and forcing itself as a permanent memory in my brain. I can't get the feeling of how good her curves felt against me out of my mind. Or the noises she made. The little gasps and moans. All made because of me. Or the way her breast was a perfect handful that molded to my palm like it was always meant to be there.
This is what I'm talking about.
Every time I think about the events of yesterday, my mind gets stuck on how amazing it felt to finally kiss and touch her and I go off into my own little daydream world.
Theo and Jacks have already called me on it multiple times today, and it doesn't help that the jackasses know what happened considering the art she left on my neck. The entire left side and front of my neck are covered in purplish-red bruises. Even my ear has a small hickey on it. Don't even ask me how she did that.
