Jasmine didn't pull away.
She didn't stop.
She let Cameron devour her.
And in that moment, something snapped inside Cameron—a wave of heat, of hunger, of triumph so visceral it almost brought her to tears. She had won. She had finally crossed the line. This wasn't friendship, wasn't tension, wasn't possibility—it was confirmation. Proof that everything she'd believed wasn't just in her head.
This was real.
She was real.
And Jasmine was hers.
Cameron kissed her like it meant salvation.
Her hands found Jasmine's waist, her ribs, her thighs. She moved with feverish desperation, her fingers digging into soft skin like she could anchor herself inside it. Jasmine gasped under her, breath shallow, her body pliant and trembling.
She didn't resist.
She let her.
"Cameron…" Jasmine's voice was breathless, her mouth parted in surprise.
For a second, Cameron hesitated.
But Jasmine didn't say no.
Instead, she tilted her head, exposing the curve of her neck, the pulse point just below her jaw—an offering.
Cameron took it.
Her lips found Jasmine's skin in a trail of kisses, first gentle, then sharper. She felt Jasmine melt, sigh, arch. She was unraveling beneath her, and Cameron—so often the one chasing—was finally in control.
She kissed harder. Bit down. Marked her.
She wanted this night etched into Jasmine's body.
Wanted her to wake up tomorrow and feel it.
To remember it with every shift, every breath.
To ache with proof.
Jasmine didn't say stop.
She moaned.
She tangled her fingers in Cameron's shirt, dragged her closer, legs wrapping around her waist with need that felt equal parts real and manipulative. There was no innocence left now. No game of friends.
And Cameron didn't think. She couldn't.
She wasn't touching Jasmine to tease or flirt or experiment. She was touching her like she'd been waiting for years. Like her hands had memorized this shape in a thousand dreams.
She whispered things she couldn't remember.
Promised things she couldn't keep.
"Let me," she breathed, her lips brushing Jasmine's collarbone. "I'll give you everything. Everything you need."
Jasmine didn't answer with words.
She just pulled her closer and kissed her again—hard, fast, desperate. Her body said yes, but her eyes never quite closed.
They stayed half-open. Watching. Measuring.
They moved together in chaotic sync—bodies slick with sweat, breaths ragged, the room spinning around them in dizzy heat. Jasmine responded to everything—every touch, every kiss, every plea—but Cameron felt it deep in her gut:
She wasn't losing control. She was letting go of it.
Jasmine gave in with intention.
Not surrender.
Permission.
And Cameron drank it up like water in a desert.
She kissed down her chest, her stomach, her thighs. Traced shapes into her skin with trembling fingers. Made her cry out, claw the sheets, and gasp her name.
And still, a voice in Cameron's head whispered: She's letting you have this. For now.
"You don't need him," Cameron muttered against Jasmine's skin. "You don't need anyone else."
Her voice was hoarse. Raw with emotion.
Jasmine's fingers curled into her hair, tugging her up for another kiss—one that burned with something more than passion.
It tasted like possession.
"Prove it," Jasmine whispered.
Cameron did.
She proved it with her mouth, her hands, her whole body. She gave everything she had. Made Jasmine come undone, made her cry out, made her forget—or at least pretend to forget—that there was anyone else in the world.
At that moment, Cameron believed it.
Believed she had won.
Afterward, they lay tangled in the sheets, their skin hot, their bodies still humming.
Jasmine's breathing slowed, her chest rising and falling against Cameron's shoulder. She looked dazed, but not in the same way Cameron did.
Cameron felt destroyed. Scattered in a thousand pieces, but happy to be ruined. She stared at the ceiling, then turned her head slowly to look at Jasmine.
But Jasmine was already watching her.
And her expression had changed.
The softness had drained from her features, replaced by something cool and unreadable. Her lips were still kiss-swollen. Her cheeks flushed. But her eyes…
Her eyes were sharp again.
Smug.
Victorious.
The realization hit Cameron like a cold wave.
Jasmine had given her everything.
And yet, somehow, she still held all the power.
Cameron's mouth parted like she was going to speak, but no words came. What would she even say?
Was this real? Does this mean anything to you? Are you staying?
But Jasmine didn't seem to want conversation.
She exhaled a soft laugh and rolled onto her back, her arm draped casually behind her head. "Well," she murmured, like they'd just finished a long hike or a good book. "That was… something."
Cameron's heart clenched.
"Yeah," she said, voice too small.
Please don't be done with me now.
But Jasmine didn't pull away. She didn't leave. She just stayed there, languid, completely at ease.
Cameron wanted to wrap herself around her.
Wanted to glue this moment in place.
Instead, she reached for Jasmine's hand—fingers brushing fingers.
Jasmine let them rest there, but didn't hold on.
The silence stretched. Not awkward, not cold. But not intimate, either.
Cameron's mind began to spiral again.
Was it just sex?
Was it a turning point?
Was it the start of something real?
Jasmine gave her no answers.
And that, somehow, was the cruelest part.