Camren One Shots

Losing Myself In You

Maybe it doesn't have to be just about sex.

I'm still very shocked at those words spilling from her mouth last night. Rather than the normal profanities in both English and Spanish, or my name being released in a husky sigh from her trembling lips, she spoke that same sentence to me while lazing in my bed wrapped in my pink silky sheets.

It stunned me so much that I rolled out of the bed and pulled on one of my shirts to sit in my windowsill for a quick smoke break. A reply certainly wouldn't have been any better. She was lucky to have my silence rather than the thought I wanted to share with her.

Sure, she helps relieve the stress of a long day slaving over my job, but wanting a relationship with me? Coming home to her on a daily basis for an evening meal and casual sex, to then wake up and see her in her most natural, vulnerable state? Its asking a lot... a huge commitment I'm not so sure she's thought about. This relationship could lead to marriage. As friends with benefits, if we are labeling here, our 'relationship' could be considered an unofficial agreement to be sex partners who share pillow-talk and blunts on different occasions.

But now feelings are beginning to generate. I won't lie, Camila Cabello is a very sexy woman with extremely attractive traits that make her a rather huge delight as a human being, but I could never call her mine. She'd scowl at my true personality. She's only ever seen me in my orgasmic state while high off my mind. Whenever I'm sober, I am a completely different person.

She seems like the girl who needs someone that will sit and listen to her calmly while they discuss their days, then retire to the bedroom for a session of cuddles and fond kisses. But if she were with me? I'd have troubles keeping my hands to myself and making sexual remarks consistently. I'd place my hand on her hips whenever we were in public eye as a statement of ownership, if you will. She'd be mine and only mine. Does she really want that with me?

Maybe she does want a possessive partner that will pleasure her whenever given the opportunity. If that is something she desires, there's no denying that chance.

Stepping through the front door of my house, I drop my purse somewhere on the floor as I close the door behind me and lock it. Sighing, I fall back against the wooden surface and slide down onto the floor.

What a day. I was exhausted from all the thoughts swarming in my head caused by the beautiful brunette that occupies my bed some nights, while also dealing with incompetence that my coworkers seem to never grow out of no matter how much training they go through. Standing up, I kick off my heels and head for my bedroom upstairs.

I had a regular two floor house with a little extra space that I was hoping to fill someday and share with someone else. Though I can never imagine getting married, I do find myself lonely some nights, to the point of calling Camila and allowing her to sleep over just for her company.

As I opened my door, I came across the clean floors and made up bed that was calling for my tired body. I released a groan once I collapsed onto the plush mattress, curling up on top of the duvet and breathing in the fresh linen. My house wasn't my home, simply because my bed held that title.

Before I began to drift, my phone buzzed in my pocket, successfully preventing me from getting into a nice little nap until dinner time. I groaned again, pulling the annoying device from my pocket and answering without even checking the caller ID.

"What?" I snapped, sitting up on the bed and running my hand through the tangled black locks atop my head.

"Someone sounds happy." Camila teased, causing me to perk up at the sound of her voice.

"I didn't have a reason to be before. Now that you're calling, I seem to find myself smiling. How are you, mi princesa?"

She giggled softly, most likely blushing to my nickname.