Chapter 54 What was happening to her?

Chapter 54 What was happening to her?

A low moan escaped her as the heavy press of Camille’s body settled over hers, the searing heat of skin against skin and the rich scent of sex filling her senses until air refused to reach her lungs. Every touch, every long, dragging stroke of Camille’s hands down her side burned across her skin, consuming her entirely. Unable to fight the relentless need, Holland looked up into Camille’s dark eyes, wide and heavy with a raw, unyielding possession as the younger woman stroked her deeper and deeper, dismantling every defense in a devastatingly addictive rhythm.
‎"You taste divine..." Camille murmured, her voice a low, raspy whisper dragging against the flushed skin of Holland’s neck, her teeth grazing Holland’s earlobe with a light, intoxicating pressure. "I want to have you over and over."
‎At that, Camille’s fingers slipped smoothly from within her. Holland felt the sudden, agonizing loss of the fullness, only to watch through heavy-lidded eyes as the younger woman lifted those slick fingers to her own mouth, slipping them past her lips. Camille let out a low moan of delight, her eyes fluttering shut as she savored the slick moisture, her face flushed with pure, unadulterated pleasure.
‎Holland jerked upright in the dark, her spine snapping straight as a violent tremor rippled through her entire frame. Every nerve ending vibrated and hummed like a struck wire, her chest heaving as her skin burned with the burning shadow of Camille's touch.


‎"Fuck," the curse tore from her throat, raw and harsh against the silent walls.
‎She sat rigid in the unfamiliar room, her heart hammering against her ribs as her breath came in fast, ragged gasps. Her eyes strained through the gloom, taking in the shadowy silhouette of the wardrobe and the quiet furniture of the guest apartment. Straining her ears, she waited for the sound of her friends' voices out in the hallway or the kitchen, but only a deep, unbroken silence greeted her.
‎Turning to her side, the bright green glow of the LED clock read 3:00 AM.
‎Holland reached toward the nightstand, her fingers trembling as they brushed the cold metal casing of her phone. Then, as the sensory memory continued to pulse behind her eyes, a sudden, heavy wave rippled through her lower abdomen.
‎Her body locked into place, her pulse roaring in her ears as a deep throb pulsed between her thighs. Warm, sudden wetness pooled beneath her, forcing a gasp from her lips. A low, helpless moan broke from her throat, echoing softly into the dark.
‎No... No way. She hadn't just. Had she?
‎She had come. Just by... by remembering the feel of her touch. Her kisses.
‎What... what was happening to her?
No! This couldn't be.
‎Her breath came in ragged, uneven bursts, her palm slamming flat against her forehead as if she could physically force the images out. She pulled her knees tight against her chest, her nails digging into the soft cotton of her sleeves, trying to anchor herself to the reality of the quiet room. Yet the phantom impression of Camille's weight still pressed into her skin, heavy and unyielding. Her pulse hammered at her collarbone, a furious, erratic rhythm that made her collar feel suffocatingly tight. Sweat slicked the back of her neck, the heat radiating off her skin in suffocating waves that no amount of deep, deliberate breathing could cool. She pressed her eyes shut, trying to build a wall of logic against the tide, but her ribs expanded and contracted in shallow, frantic twitches. Her entire frame vibrated, trapped in the inescapable grip of her own physical betrayal.
‎Her trembling fingers moved down her torso, sliding over the smooth cotton of her tank top, reaching for the waistband of her shorts. She slipped her hand past the elastic, pushing downward until her fingers made contact with her own body. Warm, heavy wetness met her fingertips, slick and feverish.
‎Holland let out a shuddering groan at the slickness, her head tilting back against the wooden headboard. Her knuckles strained against the mattress, her toes curling into the sheets as her hips hitched upward in a small, involuntary arch. Her breath hitched, ragged and uneven, as her mind spun out of control. This was a temporary relief, a desperate attempt to quiet the fire in her veins. But it was nothing compared to the reality. Her own touch felt hollow, lacking the heavy, ruthless pressure of Camille’s fingers buried deep within her, searching out her deepest vulnerabilities.
‎If she could only feel that once more. Just a little bit.
‎Abandoning all restraint, Holland began to move her hand, her fingers tracing tight, feverish circles as she closed her eyes in the dark. She gave in completely, taking herself to the absolute edge as she played Camille’s raspy voice on a continuous loop in her mind. She recalled the exact feel of Camille’s smooth skin against hers, the weight of her body, the effortless dominance in her touch.
‎Every stroke pushed Holland closer to the brink, her breathing turning ragged, her hips arching off the mattress in a quiet, desperate surrender to the ghost of the woman who had undone her. Her knuckles strained against her own skin, her nails digging into her hip as she pressed deeper, seeking that elusive, breathtaking friction.
The memory of Camille looking down at her with those dark, possessive eyes filled her vision, blinding and absolute. Her throat tightened, locking the sound in her chest as her lower abdomen contracted into a tight, agonizing coil. She pushed harder, faster, riding the surge of phantom heat until her entire body snapped taut, her spine bowing off the sheets as a second, blinding wave ripped through her, shattering the last remnants of her control and leaving her gasping into the dark.