Endgame (The Atlanta Boys)

50. Dakota

50

DAKOTA

“Ms. Foster?”

“Hi, this is Dakota.”

It’s just past three in the afternoon, and I’m seated in my office, going through hundreds of photos from the fundraiser, editing them to the detail until they’ve reached my version of perfection.

I can’t wait to see the look on Jack’s face.

A phone call from my realtor pauses my work, providing me with much awaited news. It’s been three months since I listed my parents' house, and there hasn’t been much progress. I know it needs some work, but selling it “as is” looks like my only option.

No one prepares you for the heavy cost of renovations.

“Dakota, hi. This is Helen. I’m calling to update you on the property you have listed.”

This is such a bittersweet moment. I want to—no need to—sell it, but the idea of saying goodbye to the home I spent the last moments with my parents in, and all the love that filled it makes me incredibly sad.

“Great. What are we looking at? ”

“Well, the property itself has been slow to show, much of that stemming from the spike in interest rates. We’ve been searching for a motivated buyer to connect with it and hopefully come with cash. That’s likely to be the way it will sell. Lucky enough for you, that’s exactly the offer we received. The buyer offered fifty thousand above the asking price, cash in hand. Congratulations, Ms. Foster, you sold your house.”

It sold.

The gravity of that feeling is heavy and emotional.

But this is what needs to happen. The money means nothing to me. I’m not greedy to make a fortune from something my parents worked hard for their entire lives. I want to get what it’s worth.

I plan to set most of it aside for the day I decide to start a family.

I hope whoever lives there next will fill the walls with love and happiness.

A thought comes to mind.

“That’s amazing. Thank you for making that happen, Helen. I do have one request. Am I able to meet the buyer? I know that’s an unusual question, but I’d like to see it one last time and meet the family who will call my favorite place home.”

“Of course, Dakota. I don’t see why that would be a problem. Let me contact their realtor, and I’ll get back to you on a date and time.”

“Great. Thank you.”

It’s been two hours since my call with Helen. I’ve been doing everything to keep myself busy in the hopes that work will distract me from the potential freakout coming.

The last portion of the photos I have to edit is mainly of the guys and their ridiculous strip dancing. Surprising almost every woman with a living, breathing vagina, Gus flaunted and teased the better of them with his one-hundred-pack of abs.

Who knew so many squares could fit into such a small perimeter?

Not me.

The man doesn't have an ounce of fat on his body, and matched by his height, he’s lethal. If only he would cut out his frat boy shit, keep his dick in his pants, and settle down with an ordinary girl, he’d save the world from the expanded potential for disease and endless amounts of child support.

A knock on my office door steals my attention, but seeing an unrecognizable man hurrying away puts me on high alert even more.

I watch too much true crime for this.

I know I’m one of the only ones left at Makers Park, given everyone headed out directly following the home game.

Then who was at my door?

I consider my options, mulling over all the ways I could keep my job and fight back enough to stay alive. I move to stand, but not before grabbing the bat Callaway hid under my desk for extreme circumstances; I would say this is an extreme circumstance.

I keep the bat in a defensive position, waiting for my imminent attacker to strike.

He’s messing with the wrong woman.

If I can handle the size of Callaway’s dick, then surely, I can handle the threat of a potential murderer.

My attempt to remain calm is useless as I borderline wheeze my way to the door; so much for keeping quiet. I’m not built for this.

Where’s a man when you need one?

I do my best to steal a peek from the large glass window, hoping to catch the potential lawbreaker in the act. He’s nowhere to be found. I guess I have no choice but to show this coward who’s boss. I reach forward to turn the knob slowly.

You can do this, Dakota.

Callaway knows you love him. Worst case, he mourns your death for a while, then finds another Barbie cleat chaser to tickle his fancy.

Anger fills me. Bump that.

I pull the door open in one swift motion, bat in hand, ready to stand my ground against a hall full of… emptiness.

Absolutely nothing. The halls are deserted.

I don’t know why I thought an ax murderer would stay to be caught. Monitoring my surroundings, the only thing I find is propped directly at my feet and the best gift I’ve ever received.

A cookie bouquet.

Concluding that I am no longer at risk, I put the bat down and reach for the label, finding it addressed to me.

Angel,

Because I know you won’t sleep until everything is perfect.

Love, C.

He bought me a cookie bouquet— not flowers, but every one of my favorite cookies, organized into the most beautiful arrangement. Milanos, Oreos, chocolate chip, sprinkled sugar, double dark chocolate, a tub of cookie butter, and even the iced sprinkled animal cookies he knows I love so much.

His small acts describe more about who he is than what he can give. I couldn’t imagine a more thoughtful gift if I tried.

The man outside my door is now off the hook, clearly the one appointed for delivery and not an ax murderer out for my life.

My relief is there.

I lift the bouquet in my arms and walk to place it carefully on my office desk. My thoughts roam to how I’m incredibly surprised and glad to have someone who knows what matters most to me, for example, cookies.

The growl in my stomach reminds me I’m starving.

I somehow skipped out on lunch, the idea of nachos from the stands doing nothing to satiate my hunger the way baked goods do.

I scan the assortment, zeroing in on the cookie butter.

Delish.

I need to remember to text Callaway and thank him, hopefully in more ways than one tonight. I should have an extra spoon here somewhere.

Digging through my drawers, I’m greeted with pure joy when I spot a spoon.

I can’t get the wrapper off fast enough, rushing to open the air-tight seal of the cookie butter and meet my mouth with a spoonful of mouthwatering creamy goodness.

Mhm. Almost as good as a —

“Starting without me?”

I’m caught red-handed, dead in my tracks, moaning with a clump of cookie butter stuffed in my mouth.

“Huh?” I doubt that was even audible .

I’m not willing to spit out the goods to sound like I have it all together; it’s evident I don’t.

Looking up, Callaway stands with the door to my office kicked open, arms crossed at his chest, and a stupidly handsome smirk on his face. He confirms what I already know. I was so busy indulging in a delicacy that I missed the sound of him entering.

No regrets.

I swallow what’s left of the cookie butter in my mouth, the roughness of the cookie pieces coating my tongue, as I fiddle with the spoon to distract myself from the embarrassment of being caught.

“I thought you left.”

I did think that. Callaway followed the rest of the team to shower and head out. I assumed he was leaving the field too. I thought I’d hear from him later.

Evidently not.

He walks closer, heading towards the side of my desk where I have placed the arrangement and slides it over a smidge to make room for him to sit on. One thing I love the most about Cal is he can feel at home anywhere. That’s a trait that I, unfortunately, lack, so it makes me happy to know he finds comfort in being around me. Kind of how he’s comfortable enough now to place his thick ass and wide thighs on my work desk.

Sir, please lie down if you must.

“I wanted to check on you. I didn’t see you leave after the game.” That’s because I ran straight here, not to flee for any reason. Instead, I’ve been dying to preview these photos, and I know if I don’t have the scrapbook finished soon, Mack will have my head.

For a man who barely says anything, he knows how to intimidate you with only a grunt .

“Yeah, I left at the top of the eighth. I captured enough photos for the day and figured I’d work here for a while. Well, until your delivery showed up. Thank you, by the way. That was so sweet of you.”

He nods his head, personifying humility in his kind gesture.

“Of course. I see you’re enjoying yourself.”

His light chuckle calms my racing heart. He’s so close I can smell him, citrus and cedar, a scent I am accustomed to now, but one that still sends heat to my body.

It feels like a sauna in here.

He looks so sexy right now.

Gray sweatpants cover his bottom half, hugging his tight ass that I now can say I’ve had the pleasure of confirming its perfection. Accompanied with Under Armour white socks matching perfectly with his all-white Air Max sneakers, a freshly washed white Strikers t-shirt, and his dark hair is damp and tousled from his recent shower.

He couldn’t look more attractive if he tried.

I’d like to whore myself out for another night in the sheets, Mr. Hayes.

Please and thank you.

He doesn’t even have to try to catch my attention, and I’m all over him—under, through, inside, outside, wherever he’ll let me.

His tattooed arms are crossed over his chest, causing his gigantic muscles to bulge in temptation, begging me to lick them.

I wonder if he would be down with me licking his arms.

Callaway looks like he’s got nothing but time, leaning leisurely on my desk, staring at me with hilarity. I can’t tell if he’s waiting for me to continue eating or silently asking me to share a bite with him .

He’ll have to rip this spoon from my cold, dead hands.

Deciding I couldn’t care less if he watched me indulge, I grab the spoon and plunge it into the jar, scooping up more than an average portion size. I bring my mouth to the creamy substance, swiping it up with one long stroke of my tongue.

“Mhmm. So good.” Who knew licking cookie butter could feel so sexual? If the heat on Callaway’s face tells me anything, he’s appreciating the view.

He’s biting into the side of his cheek, most likely leaving a gash in its place. His breathing turns heavy as I continue to lick the spoon clean, moaning and whimpering at the eruption of flavor. I could live off of this stuff. I had no intention of making this an act of turning him on, but it seems to be doing just that.

It’s time to fire him up a little more.

Cleaning my spoon, I toss it into the trash, deciding my finger is the best utensil for the job. Lifting my pointer finger into the jar, I coat the tip and bring it to my mouth. I’m leaning back in my office chair with Cal’s blue eyes dialing in on my every move like he can’t look away.

I open my lips slightly, sliding it into my mouth to suck, moaning at the taste but also putting the fantasy in both our heads of it being his cock I’m sucking instead.

How I wish it were.

“Fuck.”

His whispered groan steals my focus, causing my eyes to find his cock at full attention in his sweatpants. He’s turned on, and I don’t think I’m strong enough to act like it’s not there .

After all, we are still at Makers , and there must be some other people here to make acting on our current desire not okay. My eyes grow hazy as I shift in my seat and close my thighs tightly to relieve some of the ache .

It’s only been a day since we last had each other, and I’m already starving for him again.

My appetite for cookies and cock seems to be taking over my life.

It's not a terrible problem, but one causing issues right now.

“Angel.” My eyes find him. “Get up and stand by the wall.”

Oh God. What’s happening, and why can’t I get there fast enough?

Consequences be damned—I’m excited for what's to come.

“Are you going to do bad things with me, Callaway? Make good on your declaration.” His smirk tells me I’m in for it.

I make it to the nearest wall, close to seven feet from my desk and watch as Callaway circles my tiny office, closing all the blinds and leaving us in total darkness except for the tiny wall plug casting a luminescent glow. He’s strangely quiet, causing goosebumps to scatter across my skin. I stand mesmerized as his tall and muscular frame glides back across the office and settles in my chair behind the desk.

Interesting . Is he going to ask me to touch myself?

“Get on your knees and crawl to me.”

Jesus fuck on a spaceship.

My fantasies are finally coming true.

I was not expecting that.

The smile that floods my face is one I’m proud of. I love this side of him. For being an independent woman, being bossed around is my favorite extracurricular activity.

I kneel and watch as all feminine power I have dissolves into dust at Callaway’s feet. Not a bad place to land, I suppose .

“Ass up, tits out, Dakota. Let me see those tits bounce as you crawl.” If I wasn’t horny before, I most definitely am now.

This delicious game we play is like catnip for my libido. I’m addicted to the thrill—the grand finish always ends with some part of Callaway’s body delectably connected to mine.

It’s a high I’ll never stop chasing.

I’m choosing to stay silent at this moment. Callaway succeeds best under control. Although I like to dabble in the lines of control myself, I enjoy watching him flourish within his power. It’s incredibly sexy to see him commanding this level of confidence.

Fulfilling his commands, my body guides me toward him, soaking in the sight of him resembling a king leading from his throne.

The carpeted floors dig into my knees, causing a staggering burn that only heightens my need for him. My pussy is drenched; my wetness is likely to have soaked through my panties by now.

Considering that, my pleasure isn’t the one consuming my thoughts. It’s the Adonis in command, radiating lust and looking like he’s fighting all restraint not to pick me up and fuck me right here and now.

I can’t find one reason for him not to at this time.

My cobalt blue wrap dress seems to be the perfect outfit selection, considering my breasts are on full display for his pleasure, and my all-white Dunks are protecting my feet from potential rug burn.

I’m comfortable on my knees for him and ready to see his plans.

Crawling to his lap, I decide to pull myself slowly up the front of the chair and place my hands on top of his thick thighs while I wait for his following command .

I look like his little slave . That’s exactly what I was going for.

Cal’s hand reaches out to run his fingers through the curls framing my face. “You look perfect down there, sweetheart. Knees feeling okay?” I nod quickly, still letting him lead, and remain silent.

“Good. Now take out my cock.”

It would be my pleasure.

Moving my needy little ass at lightning speed, I reach for his sweatpants and nudge his bottom to lift as I slide them down with his boxer briefs in one swift tug.

Moans leave my mouth before I can think better of it.

He’s perfect, masculine, thick, and curved from the extent of his hardness. It’s clear he’s aching because his beautiful cock looks painful.

I’m about to pounce. I’m ready to take him in my mouth in one go until Cal halts my movements, lifting my chin to meet his ocean eyes.

“Not yet. Grab the jar.” The jar? It takes me a minute to realize what he means.

The cookie butter jar.

I grab the jar from the desk and hold it out to him.

He’s shaking his head at me, making me question why he asked me to grab it. “Use two fingers and scoop some out, then rub it on my cock.”

There’s no time for me to question his erotic statement because I’m too flustered to care. I never knew this sweet and kind man could be so dirty.

But I am here for it.

I dive my fingers into the creamy, rich spread and use my opposing hand to reach out and grip the bottom of his shaft, feeling his body flinch at the impact. A sharp groan escapes his lips .

“Mhm. I’ve missed your hands on me.”

“It’s been less than a day, Callaway.” I choose now to speak up.

“Smart mouth. Maybe you should put all that sass to work. Go ahead, spread it on my cock, and take me in your mouth. I know it’s your favorite taste, angel. Better lick me clean.”

Bringing Callaway Hayes pleasure might be my favorite thing in the entire world.

Before I bend at his will, I decide to expose myself a little more as I slide the short sleeves of my wrap dress down my shoulders and free my arms until my breasts escape, being careful not to make a mess on myself.

“Fuck. No bra? Look at those tits, baby. Already greedy for my touch.”

He thinks I’m going to let him touch me right now.

Not a chance, big guy.

Nothing can keep my mouth off him.

His hands reach out, likely trying to grab a handful, until I swat him away.

“Ah ah ah. Hands off. Not until I get my mouth on you.”

His opportunity to respond is gone before he can think of it as I swipe my hand coated with the spread across the entire length of his cock. A heavy groan leaves Cal’s lips, causing him to twitch in my hand.

“Eager much? I haven’t even tasted you yet.” The tables have turned, leaving his submission in my hands. I’ve never felt so powerful.

I’m on my knees for him, yet it’s his pleasure I control.

I love that he trusts me enough to hand it over and respects me enough to give me the authority to command his pleasure the same way he can mine.

We are a team .

“Put your sweet little mouth on me, Dakota, before I slam you down on my cock with cookie butter stuffed in your greedy pussy.”

If he’s trying to stop me from that, he’s doing it all wrong.

“I might like that.” I’m taunting him, stroking him up and down as my eyes blissfully sear into his. Lust so tense fuses between us.

“I bet you would.” He laughs through his pleasure, proving to know me well.

Our moans harmonize as I lean forward, licking him from base to tip, my body buzzing as a growl rolls off the end of his tongue.

“Fuck, angel. That’s it. Now take me all the way.”

Anything for you.

My tongue finds the back end of his shaft as the smooth plane collects the cookie butter; the taste of it and him combined is fatal to my senses. The roughness of the spread must add another layer of sensitivity because he can’t stay still.

He's panting and growling like an animal. It’s incredible how his body is responding to my touch.

As soon as my tongue reaches the tip of his cock, I plummet to the bottom, taking him all the way until his head touches the back of my throat.

“Goddamn it, you’re so good at this. Don’t fucking tell me how. Ah, that mouth.” I’m sucking him deep, up and down, swirling my tongue at the tip and then dragging it down the underside where he's most sensitive.

My clit is throbbing, starved for his touch, but this is about him.

Cal’s eyes are rolling to the back of his head in pleasure as the feel of my tits bouncing back and forth with my rocking set my hard nipples on edge .

I could come like this.

The sensation of our combined pleasure sends an implosion of ecstasy between us. Sensing he’s getting close, I grab the base of his shaft, the cookie butter already wiped clean, and tug in short motions as I take him in again.

“I’m…I’m…fuck. Baby, I’m gonna come. Suck me dry. Don’t waste a drop.” My sucking is a dedicated pursuit of his pleasure.

Callaway’s moaning draws out as his body stills in sudden jerks, signaling his impending orgasm.

“Ahhhhhh. Mhm. So good.” Warm ropes of his cum fill my mouth as I swallow every last drop of him, his body needing moments to recover.

When I feel the last of him spill down my throat, I slide his cock from my mouth and notice how my lips feel numb from the effects of his thrusting.

I love it.

“Dakota, that was...” He doesn’t have to explain. “I know.” It was everything.

I’ve barely had a second to slide my dress back into place before he’s tucking himself back in and hauling my body onto his lap. Our lips meet in unity; my heart is overwhelmed with so much love for this man.

A giggle escapes me as our lips pull apart. “That was unexpected.”

He kisses me again gently, smiling at me with so much affection I can’t help but feel guilty for being this happy.

There are so many people in this world who are hurting and lonely, and I’m sheltered in perfect bliss. I know I deserve this kind of love, and coming to terms with the level of my worth has not been an easy feat, but I’m confident in that now. I’m satisfied. I know Callaway and I deserve each other .

Remembering I have some good news to share, I focus on him, fiddling with the simple gold chain he likes to wear around his neck.

“Oh hey, I forgot to tell you. I know this week has been crazy with our schedules, but I got a call from Helen, the real estate agent.”

Cal’s eyebrows shoot up, waiting for me to continue.

“I got an offer on the house! Callaway, they offered fifty thousand dollars above the asking price. How does that even happen?”

Suddenly, I’m excited.

It strangely feels like an honor to have someone love my childhood home so much they offered above asking. He holds me tight, and I can sense Cal’s joy is as radiant as mine.

“Dakota, that’s amazing. I’m so happy for you. You should be proud of yourself and how far you’ve come. I know I am.”

I know he is. He tells me daily how proud he is of me, but he doesn’t know I couldn’t have done it without him. “You do know that if you hadn’t forced your way into my life like a man on a mission, I probably wouldn’t be here—healthy and no longer dark and twisty.”

I’m giggling, but I want him to value my words.

“I happen to love your dark and twisty. You were never damaged, sweetheart; more like your feelings were dormant. I’m proud of you for finding that, although I’d love you no matter how you decided to accept me.”

I’m dreaming of a future with him.

A home that screams love and laughter but holds an edge in its style, resembling the differences in our relationship that somehow make us work perfectly. I never really thought too much about having kids, something Callaway and I had discussed before we became a couple .

I’m not against them. I just haven’t cared enough to consider the possibility of having them one day until him. Now, the picture filtering through my dreams looks like mini-Callaways and foster babies running around a backyard and chasing fly balls from their hot daddy.

It sounds like everything I could ever want now.

One glance at my computer screen tells me it’s almost eight o’clock, and I should probably head home to finish editing. I’m too chicken to be alone in a giant facility at night. Again, being a true crime junkie is doing me no favors. I pull myself off Callaway’s lap, running my eyes over myself to make sure all my lady bits are securely in place, before walking around his massive frame to collect my things.

“I think I’m gonna get going. I need to finish these edits before it gets too late. I’m meeting the realtor in the morning, and she’s introducing me to the buyers.”

Cal collects himself before walking behind me to wrap his arms around my waist. “That's news to me. You think you’ll be able to handle that?”

He nuzzles his face into my hair, his trimmed beard rubbing glorious friction across my neck as he breathes me in. It’s not like we weren’t just wrapped around each other, but the need to feel balanced by the other is more significant than our ability to linger apart.

I’m far too satisfied with that fact.

“I guess we’ll find out.”

Nodding his head, he slowly reaches to gently run his large hands up and down my arms. I’m suddenly unable to focus on my task because my pussy is still throbbing.

I did my best to please him and move on, but that’s nearly impossible when he won’t stop touching me. His cock is back and at full staff, nudging at my back as I stand still .

“Seriously? You’re hard again?” His chuckle is the best sound.

“Get used to it. And don’t tell me this pussy isn’t wound tight.”

God. I’m so turned on it’s painful.

My thighs rub together, doing their best to seek friction. His hands find their way to the back of my legs, running up the length of my ass beneath my dress, before circling to grab ahold of my hips and pulling my body into his with a loud groan.

“This body, Dakota. You fucking paralyze me with the need to fill you.” Moans slip past my lips, my body bending over the desk of its own free will.

“Baby. Tell me what you need.”

Jackass. “Please, Callaway.” He knows exactly what I need.

He’s still chuckling as his mouth descends to my slender shoulder blades to kiss the planes of my back. At the same time, his hands make their way to my breasts, grabbing hold and twisting my nipples through the fabric of my dress.

“What was that? I don’t think I heard you.”

My body rocks into him, attempting to rub against the massive erection he’s sporting. His hands drag back down my body as they lead to where I’m craving him the most. His left hand takes hold of my hip, securing me in place as his right lifts the front end of my dress to slide my panties to the side and give my clit a sharp pinch.

“Ah. Oh God. Please.” I’m shaking and quivering to the brink of my explosion, but he won’t lead me over.

“Tell me what you need, Dakota.” I can’t stop the moan that escapes me. His demanding voice parallels my heightened desire. It seems like he’s almost trying to take this slow and draw out my pleasure .

Sure, that sounds wonderful, but I needed him in me fifteen minutes ago .

Once he’s settled, we can go slow. But also, the thought of someone barging in doesn’t seem to deter his plan.

Needing him closer, I reach my arm around the back of his neck and pull his face to mine, feeling the ghost of his lips caress my cheek.

“Fuck me, Callaway. And make it good.”

“That I can do, baby.” I hear the sound of his jeans dropping to the floor in a hurried motion before the back of my dress lifts and my panties rip from my body.

He ripped my panties.

I gasp. “I liked those.”

“And I like them off of you even more.”

I don’t have the energy to argue. His cock is teasing my entrance, and my body is shaking as he pulls back, only to push my face back down onto the desk.

Finally. Fuck me good, big guy.

A sharp sting ignites my ass cheeks as I fall into the effects of Callaway spanking me. That feels incredible. “Mhmm. Again.”

“My girl likes to be spanked?” He’s practically howling over the thought of dirtying me up even more.

Slap

Slap

The pain and pleasure combined are unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. It’s glorious in how he massages the spot after, soothing the delicious burn it gives me. His last slap leaves me no time to recover before his rough fingers spread open my pussy to make room for him. A whimper barely leaves my lips before he slams his thick cock inside of me.

“Oh God. Oh God. Yes.”

Nothing, absolutely nothing, feels better than this .

Cal groans, “Fuck. That’s it, angel. Take me.” I was very wrong. Slow and steady is not what Callaway had in mind. He’s relentless, slamming into me tirelessly until his cock reaches my farthest point.

Grabbing my ass with his hands, he lifts my legs off the ground to get a better angle, perching me in the air with my face smashed against photos and papers scattered along my desk.

I feel his body dig deeper as he pulls out before sinking back in again.

“Callaway.”

The sensation hits my most sensitive internal spot, and I can feel his cock consuming my insides. His thrusts pick up speed as I get louder.

“Right there, baby. God, I could stay here forever. Good girl, taking me so well.”

“Cal, I want to come.”

He’s powering through thrusts, and I can feel the moment he gets close, causing my climax to take flight.

“Let go, baby. Let me feel you come on my cock.”

“Cal, I need you to come inside me.” I’m breathing so heavily; I’m surprised he can understand me. My statement does nothing to stall his pursuit, as he replies in stride, “Can’t deny you anything.”

Hell yes.

He drives into me with a force that leaves me breathless. It takes everything in me not to scream from the overwhelming sensation of pleasure. I bite my lip to hold in a moan from the vibrations that infiltrate my body.

I sound primal, filled with passion and so much love for this man, while he leads my body to the ecstasy it craves. “I’m coming. Don’t stop. Please, God, don’t stop.”

Passion passes through his beautiful body, my face and hips rocking in unison with his thrusts. “I can’t, couldn’t, won’t. Fuck.”

My orgasm explodes around him as my legs and ass buck against his frame, fighting to control the sensation. “Mhmm, so good, Cal.”

“I know, baby, you’re perfect.” Seconds later, his loud grunt signals his release as he grinds his hips forward, barreling deep as he erupts inside of me.

A feral growl flees his lips.

His kissing along my back signals the synchronized end to our releases before I sense him grab a tissue off my desk en route to clean up our mess.

“As much as I’d love for you to be dripping my cum all day, I’ll spare you this once, seeing as how you no longer have panties.”

I’m giggling as I lift off the disaster on my desk and begin straightening my clothes back into place.

I spare a look at Callaway and find him already put back together with a huge grin plastered across his handsome face.

“We fucked in your office.”

Weirdo. I love him. “We did. It was epic.” I laugh uncontrollably at how something so simple can bring him so much happiness.

“I can’t wait to do it again.”

I gently smack his arm, my smile greeting him with ease. “You’re such a dork.”

Before I know it, he’s nipping at my neck and sending me into a spiral of laughter as he tickles me fiercely. I might pee my pants.

“I’ll show you dork, you beautiful woman.”

I’ve never been able to handle tickling. My body is sensitive to any touch— tickling for me is borderline painful, but it somehow still makes me laugh immensely .

I do my best to distract Cal by getting us back on task before he interrupts me with his cock again.

Holding his muscular biceps, I search his eyes before pleading with him, “Sir, you’ve already distracted me enough. I love you, but let’s focus. I’m meeting the buyers tomorrow, and I need you to tell me I’m doing the right thing.”

He smiles again. This man cannot be taken seriously.

“You said you loved me.”

Jesus.

“I did. And I promise I’ll never stop telling you. Now, give me your attention, please.”

I’m only playing around. Seeing him reward me with heart eyes at the notion of me voicing my love for him is adorable.

He quickly kisses my lips, seemingly satisfied by my promise, and gives me his full attention. “You are doing the best thing for you . I think that is what’s important.”

Okay, I’m good now.

I needed to hear from someone else I wasn’t entirely crazy for needing closure from people I don’t know.

No matter how connected they will be to the home I was raised in.

Ultimately, a house is only a house without the people you love to fill it.

“You’re right. This is for me. I feel better now.”

He teases me, “You gonna speak darkness into them, my little minx?”

I would never...

“Nope. I’ve turned over a new leaf, remember? Dark and twisty be gone—roll out the welcome mat for light and happy.”

“Sounds boring.” I can’t help but laugh .

“Are you sure you still want me? I’m all fixed and new now.”

I’m kidding.

His hands reach out to my soft stomach as tickles erupt from his fingertips again. I’m wiggling and squirming, secretly loving when he shows his playfulness to me when I least expect it— although I thought we settled the tickling, it seems to be back.

I think I love any and all the things he will give me.

“That’s still up for discussion. Will you still love me when I ask you to marry me one day?”

Say what!

My eyes must be as large as saucers; thankfully, he’s at my back and can’t see my reaction.

Not one part of me is hesitant about a future with him.

The intention of marrying him sounds sublime, like everything I never knew I wanted or needed. There’s no hesitation in his question, and we’re past the point of questioning our feelings, like I know I’m past the point of feeling fearful of the unknown.

Callaway is my future. My forever.

“My answer will always be yes.”