Teasing Hands (17 page)

“Huh?” I’m sorry, but now was just not the time to discuss shit that made no sense.

“You never cried like this when I told you I was leaving, that we were done, yet for him you tremble in anguish.”

“Hunter, I—”

“Shhh…”
He placed a finger over my lips. “I’m not saying this because I need leverage over you.”

Stephanie snorted beside us. “Sorry, Knox, but I don’t buy it.”

“And I don’t need you to,” he growled. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes and I’m not proud of how I’ve handled things, but rejection is something I don’t handle well. Look, Mandi, I’m sorry.” Nodding, I looked away from him and over to Camden. His eyes were hard, those glorious lips set in a hard line. Tears continued to fall from my face, and he noticed this.

The harshness disappeared, and now remorse shined in those beautiful orbs. I watched transfixed, as he pushed her hand away and stood.  Cynthia called his name, grabbed his hand, but he was determined to get to me.

Without losing sight of him, I pulled Hunter down to my level. “Let’s dance.”

“Mandi, I know that—”

“He’s coming over here, you idiot,” I whispered harshly. “There’s no way in hell I can face him right now. I’m an angry, emotional mess and need to get away.” Camden was a few feet away now, his eyes boring into mine.
Fuck, no. Right now, I can’t deal with him.
“Please.”

The pure fright and desperation in my voice jolted Hunter into action, and right before Camden reached us, I was pulled away to dance. Our eyes never lost sight of the other.

He mouthed the words “let’s talk,” but I shook my head.  His shoulders slumped, his posture defeated.

Stephanie stood with Courtney and Jennifer beside him, each of their faces pinched in anger. They eyed him with disdain and me with pity. I didn’t want their goddamned pity.

“Can we go?” My throat felt raw and my eyes stung.

“Is that what you want, Amanda?” Hunter ran the back of his fingers up and down my back in a soothing action. It didn’t work; it made it worse. His touch wasn’t the one I needed to make things better. “I’ll keep him away so you can hang out with the girls.”

Nodding, I laid my head on his chest and closed my eyes. “Yes.”

Hunter kissed the top of my head before releasing me and signaling the girls over. Their conversation was nothing more than a dull whisper in the background. If they argued or killed each other at that moment, I didn’t give a fuck.

I looked over at Camden one last time, and the resignation in his eyes almost made me crumble. This was the end of whatever I thought we had.

18

Camden stood across the room from me behind the reception desk. I hadn’t seen him since that night at Rage. The night where he proceeded to finally make me see the truth; he was never going to change, that this would always be nothing more than a fucked up friendship with benefits.

Cynthia stood beside him; she simpered and ran the tip of her finger down his arm. She giggled and batted those over mascaraed lashes. Bile rose in my throat at the way he smiled at her. Like she mattered to him in some capacity.

Sadly for her, there was one thing that she didn’t have. She would never be me. He yearned for my body—has made love to me with every inch of his soul bared. His movements said the words his lips couldn’t form.

Camden didn’t want to admit to himself what was now glaringly obvious. There was love between us. Profound and soul-crushing emotions that crippled me the moment I saw him with her. These same feelings hurt him when I walked away with Hunter. It was clear that he wasn’t ready to admit his feelings, much less accept them.

But at this point, I could no longer wait for him. It wounded me to be near him and not have him.

As if he could sense my presence, he took a step away from
her
and locked his eyes on mine. There was a small flash of anguish that ran through those stormy eyes before he deflected into his cocky persona. I was in trouble. His eyes roamed my smaller frame—they perused and ate every inch of my bared skin.

I could almost describe it as entrancing—a snake cornering his pre
y
.

My barely there denim shorts and a size-to-small tank covered very little. Camden’s seductive eyes darkened, and his lips form a thin line as he took in the color of my clothing. It was another way for me to say “fuck you” to his bullshit rules.

No white. No innocence.

Dark colors instead to reflect the mourning of what we could’ve been.

“You’re late.” The words were gruff, an underlying tone of anger simmering behind them. “I was about to call you.” My panties had become saturated with moisture at his indignant look, his distaste apparent at my choice in attire. Yet the ardor he felt whenever I was near was blatant in the way he’d forgotten Cynthia and walked toward me.

Close enough I could smell his intoxicating scent.

Close enough I could see the hard bulge in his pants.

“Well, I’m here.” The huskiness in my voice didn’t escape him. Camden smirked and took another step closer. Barely any space separated his body from mine.

“You are,
gatita
. Thank fuck…you are.”

“I’m ready to begin, Mr. Daniels.” His eyes narrowed at the use of formal address. Taking a step back, I tried to create some breathing room, some reprieve from the assault his smell had on my
senses.

Camden’s hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, stopping me from moving another inch. “In a hurry?”

“Yes.” The hand stopping me tightened, then released quickly, almost as if he’d been burned. His face no longer held hunger. No—now, there was fury.

“Right this way, Amanda.” His low growl caused a small ripple of arousal to run through me. My nipples tightened against the thin material, the quick, panting breaths I took making them rub against the soft cotton. Camden’s hands balled into tight fists, his breathing accelerated, and his eyes zeroed in on the two tips that throbbed for a simple flick of his tongue. 

“I’m going to need a moment.” The words came out in a low, husky moan. If I didn’t take a minute to gather myself, I’d fuck him before we made it to his room.

“No.” While his jaw remained rigid, his eyes sparkled. He knew what his presence was causing within me and rejoiced in the fact.

“I’m not ask—”

“Enough,” Camden snarled before retaking my hand and pulling me straight into the back
of the spa. Into his room. “Undress for me.”

I followed his command because I knew this would be the end for us. No longer would I subject myself to the pain of knowing that I’d fallen in love with a man that would never give
himself to me. There was no doubt in my mind that he felt something, but the problem was that I no longer cared enough to stay and wait until he did.

I’d rather walk away now and live with the pain of a love lost than continue to feel like his private whore.

He isn’t yours.
 

“I need you here with me, not miles away. You know the rules.” So many things ran through my head as he argued with me. For most of our verbal spar, I was running on autopilot, too hurt and angry by his actions.

“Is this because of what happened at Rage?”

“You know nothing happened, gatita. I would’ve told you if it had.”

“You can’t go all jealous on me and throw a tantrum when I don’t belong to you.”

His words were angry and full of acid. They hurt and replay
ed in my head on constant loop as I put on the simple pair of lace panties I carried in my purse. At first, I’d come in here ready to give him the fuck of his life and walk away, but now, I couldn’t. Not after how deep those words cut.

“That goes both ways, you know,” I murmured low with my eyes closed. I was beyond done. Why was I even here?

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it states. I am not yours to hold onto anymore.” Lying down, I pulled the plain white sheet he kept beside the table and covered myself. Another barrier between us
.
“There’s somewhere I need to be within the next hour.”

“Where do you have to
be?” His question came out as a low rumble. It was animalistic and hypnotic. “Its off-season and you don’t have practice.”

I shrugged and closed my eyes.
“None of your business.” It had to be this way. He made it this way.

“The fuck it isn’t. I’m not asking again, Amanda. Where are you going?” The desperation in his tone caught me off guard. Why act this way now? He threw me away. I meant nothing, and the way he blew me off for Cynthia proved just that.

Their image at Rage had been engraved in my head since I walked out of the club. Even as I cried in Hunter’s arms, it was Camden’s hands wrapped around me that I’d craved.

“To finally move on.” They were the wrong choice of words; I knew they would be the moment they passed through my lips.

“Never.”  His hiss of anger startled me; the way he snatched the small sheet covering my body scared me.

He flipped me over and his mouth took possession of mine. Camden’s kiss told me everything he couldn’t.

That I was his.

He wasn’t letting me go.

I was so tempted to give into him. To just let him have me however he’d have me.

Not possible. I knew what our reality was, and I’d never be able to settle for just being his plaything. So although it broke me deep inside, I pulled my mouth away fro
m his.

“Not your choice.” A single tear fell down my cheek. He made the move to wipe it away, but I dodged his hand before he could. If he touched me the way he did after our last session, I’d crumble at his feet.

A gentle caress from him would hurt me more than seeing him with
her.

This would be our final session, and for one last time, I wanted to feel his hands on me. To have his teasing hands manipulate my flesh to his liking, but without the added intimacy that had left me broken emotionally once again.

Turning around without another word, I lay there and left no room for argument. Camden had a job to do, and I’d let him. In the end, this was our closure, the goodbye Hunter never really gave me, and I refused to let another man rob me of that.

Strong and unyielding in his pursuit to have me bend to his will, Camden never relented in his quest to conquer my body. From the moment he set his eyes on mine, I was owned all those months ago.

In the beginning, it was a foreign situation I found myself in—daunting and scary, yet it excited me, opened my eyes to the desires I’d long buried after my last break up. Dark desires pushed the guilt for what we were doing aside. Only he could ever force such primal responses from me.

Now more than ever, there were no misunderstandings about where our illicit relationship stood all along. As much as I’d love to command him—take charge for once—and let him see me as more than a play thing… I didn’t. It was too late for those sentimental wishes.

His fingers pressed down and into my muscles with more force than he’d ever used on me before. This encounter would leave me physically marked, of that there was no doubt, but in a way, it was calming to know that I’d leave here with a tiny bruise or two. Camden wasn’t trying to hurt me, nor did those actions make me uncomfortable.

I’d carry those fading marks with me for a few days after I was gone. I’d look at them and remember what could have been.

Without trying, this man had conquered my heart, body, and soul.

I belonged to him. I loved him.

The silence in the room was deafening, yet neither of us spoke. His breathing and mine was labored…the want and longing between us almost too much to take. I shuddered with every pass of those fingers over my thighs—the way they spread and touched me where after today, he’d no longer have access to do so.

Who knew the end of something that never was could hurt so much. A stray tear rolled down my face, and my lips trembled. Fuck. My need for this torture to end overruled my senses, and on his next pass, I spread my thighs just a tiny bit. Not enough for him to fully cup me, but enough to feel the very tip of his fingers.

My thighs were slick with my desire for him. He noticed, his fingers digging in deeper at the very apex of my thighs. Camden released his hold and pushed my panties aside. I let his fingers run through my wet lips.

“Camden…Ahhh.” The holy praise I had for him fought its way out. His body trembled; I could almost taste his need for me in the air that surrounded us. Parting my lips, he slipped a single finger inside and fucked me at a slow pace, as if he wished to prolong the inevitable.

“
Gatita
…fuck, I need you.” Desperation. That was all I heard in those few words, but it was too late—my hips pushed back against his hand. His knuckle grazed my clit with every hard gyration of my hips. “Don’t do this.”

Ignoring his plea, I moved one of my own hands between his massage table and me. The action wasn’t lost on him; my fingers rubbed his hand as I brought myself closer and over that painful edge with a pinch to my clit. It was a mediocre release at best.

Heartbreak lessened the act to nothing but emptiness.

The walls of my pussy released his finger, and I pushed off the bed to stand. His hand on my calf made me pause.

“Can we talk?”

“There’s nothing to say.” I sighed and pushed his hand away so I could stand up. There was no need in drawing this out. Once standing, I pulled down the panties I wore and placed them on his table. He eyed them and me, not saying a word—just watched me as I got dressed and collected my bag.

Once at the door, I looked at him from over my shoulder. “Goodbye, Camden. Enjoy those,” I said, pointing toward the underwear on the table, “because that is all you will ever have of me.

19