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when I look down his expression is bittersweet. ‘You were all those things before you met me.’
The burn is back in my throat. My beautiful, broken Cam. But I know he’ll be all right. He’s young, he’s resilient and he has so much to give.
‘Well, perhaps you make me appreciate them more, then. Perhaps playing hard has put working hard into perspective.’ I press my finger to his beautiful mouth, shushing him. ‘I want to play hard now.’
I slide off my bra and lean over to kiss him. I want to forget that this is almost over. Forget that life after my adventure with Cam will go back to pre-Cam predictability. But I’ll never forget how he unleashed this sexual being I neglected for so long. How he challenged me and then cherished me.
Slipping my thong off, I straddle his thighs where he sits. My hands push down his shorts just enough so his erection is freed. I take him in my hand between us and pump him while we kiss, and then I angle him back and sink slowly onto him, inch by glorious inch.
He holds me so tight to his chest that I fear I won’t be able to draw breath, but then I stretch up on the balls of my feet and lower myself into his lap and we groan-gasp together at the depth of the penetration. This feels so right I never want to give it up, but despite the journey we’ve travelled, I’m still me.
We rock together, clinging tight while we kiss and move just enough to stay balanced on the stool but also to give and take what we need from each other. But it’s not enough. I want him to know how much he’s meant to me, to understand that, while I can’t give him commitment, or the kind of future I see for him, the kind he deserves, I can give him all of me, physically.
I pull back, my lips swollen. ‘Cam. It’s time.’
He knows what I mean. Ever since Zurich we’ve skirted this issue. I want him every way I can. He’ll know that I was his, briefly, but completely.
He grips my waist and stands without slipping from my body. In two strides we’re on the bed, me on my back and him taking charge of our pleasure by thrusting above me. He clasps my hands, his fingers locking with mine, his beautiful face tight with pleasure, and then he dives for my nipple, sucking hard so I cry out and arch my neck.
I get lost, so lost I think he’s missed my meaning or has changed his mind, but when I’m close to climaxing, my body drunk on the pleasure Cam delivers without fail, he finally withdraws and guides me onto all fours.
He takes my hand and directs my fingers to my drenched and swollen clit. ‘Rub yourself.’
I hear him tear into a condom and then I feel the thrilling chill of lube between my buttocks.
‘Don’t stop.’ He handles me like I’m made of glass, his rough hands sliding over the skin of my back and shoulders and hips, even as I feel him push against my opening for the first time.
I want this. I want what only he can give me. And I want it on my timescale, not Cam’s, which I’d bet my entire wealth is in deference to my comfort. But there is no more time. There’s only now. Us. This moment of trust and forbidden intimacy.
I push back, the feeling foreign and thrilling but not uncomfortable after all his care and preparation. And just as I know I can trust him with my body, that he’d never hurt me, I also know he needs convincing. ‘Cam, I want this. I want you this way. Every way.’
I hear his groan, feel his fingers digging into my hips as the pressure of his possession increases. I rub my clit faster to counter the slight twinge of discomfort but then I’m full and he leans over me with a long moan, his sweaty chest plastered to my back.
‘Fuck, Orla. I’ll never get enough of you.’
It’s as close to any sort of declaration as we’ve come, dangerously close. And it electrifies me even as I try to block it out by rocking my hips to distract us both back towards pleasure. My ploy works because Cam’s hand joins mine between my legs, our fingers working in unison on my clit until I start to see stars and need both my hands to brace for the impact of my inevitable orgasm.
Cam arches over me, taking his weight, but I want it, I want it all. To be smothered in him, to forget where I end and he begins, to be his completely, just in this moment. Not Cam and Orla. Just a man and a woman, lost together.
‘Cam, I’m close.’ I struggle to get the words out, but I want him to know what he does to me, how he’s changed me, enriched my life, made me feel impossible things I thought were long past. But I can’t confess anything remotely as vulnerable, so I focus on the sensations that wash my body.
‘Come for me, then, squeeze me, show me the real you, and what you like.’
His words liberate me and I fly, every convulsion a tribute to him, every cry his name until I’m certain that I know I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life inviting Cam North into my world.
When I’m fully spent, he surprises me by easing out of my body, allowing me to collapse onto my back to catch my breath. He tears off the condom and repositions himself between my thighs, his fingers spreading me open so he can guide himself back inside me. He looks up, a million emotions written in the depths of his grey eyes, before they roll closed with pleasure and he whispers one word.
‘Orla.’
I know then that I’ve ruined him, that he’s developed feelings for me, because it’s there in the tenderness of his touch as he uses both hands to push my hair back from my face. It’s there in the possessive and agonising eye contact he pins me with and the reverent way he kisses me time after time. He’s making love to me. He’s given me everything I wanted and now he’s showing me what he wants.
I struggle to breathe, although I crave his weight on me pressing me into the mattress as he seeks his own climax. He groans, pushes his face against the side of my neck and I breathe in his familiar scent, as if committing it to memory.
His hips start to buck, his rhythm stalling as he reaches his orgasm, and I grip him tight, holding him even though I know the pain will come as soon as I have to let him go.
* * *
The Masquerade Gala is held in the lavish ballroom of Sydney’s M Club, a dazzling waterfront location with harbour views featuring the iconic Opera House and Harbour Bridge.
