Page 117 of Gamebreaker

"Cam, please, I need..."

"Not yet."

"I can't..."

"You can. Hold it for me."

I edged her three more times, watching her come apart a little more with each one. Her skin was flushed down to her chest, slick with sweat. Her breathing had turned into sobs. Her wrists pulled against the belt so hard I reached up and slid two fingers under the leather to check them, and she whimpered at even that much attention.

"Please," she begged. "Please, Cam, I can't hold it anymore."

"Just a little more. You're so good for me. So perfect."

"I really can't, I really, really can't..."

"Yes, you can." I leaned down so that my mouth was against her ear. "Whose are you?"

She sobbed. "Yours."

The feeling washed over me. Joy. Pure joy.

"Say it again."

"Yours. I'm yours. Please."

Tears were leaking from the corners of her eyes now and running into her hair. She was shaking, every muscle tight, right on the knife's edge. I'd never seen a sight as beautiful as Harper DuBose falling apart in my bed with my name in her mouth and my belt on her wrists, and I knew, even then, with a cold clarity I didn't want, that I'd be seeing it every time I closed my eyes for the rest of my life.

I changed the angle of my fingers and found the spot inside her that made her gasp and pressed into it, hard, and set my thumb against her clit with firm, steady pressure. Her whole body seized.

"Cam. That feels... I feel weird. Like I need to..."

"Let go." I didn't slow down. I fucked her harder, faster, hammering against that place inside her. "Don't fight it. Let it happen."

"I don't think I can..."

"You can." My hand closed around her throat again, firm and certain, and I held her there. "Let go for me, Harper. Trust me. Come, baby. Come for me."

On come, I tightened my grip, just enough to remind her whose she was, and the orgasm tore through her.

It was different than any of the others. Harder. Deeper. Her back bowed off the bed, her bound arms straining against the headboard, and then she was flooding my hand, liquid soaking my wrist and the sheets beneath her, and she made sounds I'd never heard from her, shocked and overwhelmed and torn wide open.

She'd squirted.

I didn't stop. I worked her through it, drawing out wave after wave, her astonished cries rising and breaking, until the last of it shuddered through her and she went limp. Then I gentled my hand, sliding my fingers out of her. I came up and cupped her face with my clean hand.

"That's it," I said. "That's my good girl. You did so well. You were perfect."

"I... what... I've never..." She couldn't form a sentence. She was still trembling all over.

"You've never done that before?"

"Never. I didn't even know I could."

I reached up and freed her wrists. I unwound the belt and brought her arms down one at a time, because I knew her shoulders would ache from being stretched that long. I rubbed the feeling back into her hands and kissed the red lines on the insides of her wrists, then her palms, then her fingertips. She watched me do it with wet, dazed eyes.

"Water," I said. I'd left a glass on the nightstand. I lifted her head and held it to her mouth myself because her hands were shaking too hard to hold it. She drank half and pushed it away.

"How do you feel?" I asked.