26. “Did you just call yourself my girlfriend?”
26
“Did you just call yourself my girlfriend?”
Chapter Playlist:
“What Lies Beneath” – Breaking Benjamin
“Monsters” – All Time Low – Demi Lovato and Blackbear
“Try” - Pink
CAL
“What now, Cal?” she asks still out of breath.
“Starlight,” I utter against her lips, smirking.
Everleigh gasps at the transformation of the bathroom. The clear walls of the tank darken from my command, and a cascade of stars bursts to life, turning the space into a living planetarium. The shimmering constellations don’t stop at the walls; tiny glowing lights dance across our skin, tracing the curves of our bodies like celestial fireflies. A galaxy of my creation.
Her against me, like this in our post-coital aftermath with her dark, damp waves on my skin, she’s never been more beautiful.
“Now…” I pull out but keep her legs around me, my smile growing. “I give you twenty questions.”
“Twenty questions?” She lifts her brows.
“Mmm. And answers.”
“Seriously?”
I kiss her neck. “Deadly.”
Pulling in a deep sigh, Everleigh lets it out and gestures to the anatomical heart. “First…I hope this can be a freebie. Um, don’t you need to do something about this? And this?” she adds, touching the spot where she stabbed me.
“I’ll give you that one,
Little Quill. I will wrap them soon. But the water has healing properties and a blend of essential oils. They will help,” I finish, rise from the ledge, take a washcloth and bar of soap from one of the corner nooks, then step deeper into the steamy water, loving how the points of light pierce the fog to speckle her skin.
“Lean back,” I say, approving when she arches her back and dips her hair into the water, breathing a deep sigh.
Fuck, her tits are covered in my teeth marks, the nipples so red and hard. My cock twitches. I’ve never been this hungry for a woman, never driven to such insane, extreme measures to keep her, to make her mine.
Once she comes back up, I say, “Can you stand?”
She bites her lower lip before mustering a nod.
“Good.”
I set her down, almost expecting her to retreat, but she doesn’t. So fucking sweet with how she stays close, pressing her breasts against my lower chest. I lather the soap and begin washing her, taking no prisoners, keeping my movements gentle while avoiding the heart. The blood on my shoulder has slowed enough. I’ll wrap it soon.
“Why are you being so nice now?”
I smirk to one side. “Is that your first question?”
She purses her lips, considering at first but then nodding.
“I may be a sadist, Everleigh, but I will prioritize your welfare to the utmost degree. I plan to keep you forever. Nineteen.”
She hisses as I soap up her breasts, their tips sensitive. “Is your first name Callum?”
“No. Eighteen.”
She knits her brows into a frown. “Oh, come on.”
Smiling, I dip the cloth into her lovely navel. “Ask the correct questions, Little Quill. As a historian, you should be well-versed in the art of attention to detail.”
She rolls her eyes and huffs. “Last name?”
“Yes. Seventeen.”
“What’s your first name?”
“Raidyn. R-a-i-d-y-n. Sixteen.”
“Raidyn Callum…” she says softly, her eyes lowering like she’s pondering the name. Then, she flicks those perfect gray eyes up again. “I’ll still call you Cal.”
“Thank you.”
As I slide my hands along her back, rubbing the soap there, a whimper leaves her throat, but heat floods me at how she arches against me, and her eyes flare with silver flame. I could see her Cherry figment giving her a thumbs up while Everleigh stalks around in her mind, raving mad at herself for giving me a nickname.
“What are you going to do with me?”
I pause at the edge of her spine, knuckles poised on her plump, little bottom. “I will keep you here with me. You will be my historian and have endless artifacts to explore and catalog. Fifteen.”
“Will that thing happen again?”
I narrow my eyes. “Clarify.”
“The men. The exhibit. You fucking me…before them?”
I tighten my grip on her. “Yes. Fourteen.”
“Why? Give me all the reasons.”
“Good girl,” I commend her for learning. “I am filled with a dark need, one I’ve never managed to satisfy….until you. You are at the epicenter. My masterpiece. And with the cancellation of my global tour, the God of Art still must make a living. Thirteen.”
“Cancellation?”
“Canceled for you. Twelve.”
“Ugh!” she groans at her slip and pinches the bridge of her nose. When her eyes lift to mine, they are glassy, bordering on tears. “W-will they?—”
“No,” I growl, drop the soap, and lift a hand to grip her jaw. “You are mine and mine alone. No one will fucking touch you but me. My art. Just as in a famous gallery, look but don’t touch. The art must be preserved. Eleven.”
She chews on her lower lip but nods, satisfied for now. “Will I ever get time out of the exhibit and see what else is here other than this bathroom? Like maybe the sun again?”
Fuck, this girl! She didn’t ask if she could go home again. She’s placing her future in my hands. Acknowledging my control and power over her fate.
“Yes. If you are a good girl and don’t cause too much trouble.” I touch the bridge of her nose and trace my finger down the sensual curve, finishing with a light pinch. “Ten.”
“What specifically are you planning to do to me…what other types of art will you do? Will it be more carving, wax play, something else?” She lifts a finger to my face. “That’s a sub-question, branching off from the main to avoid a run-on sentence.”
I chuckle and nip the tip of her finger. “Clever girl. With you, the options are endless. I may carve you again. But this must heal first…” I indicate to the heart on her chest. “It will fade from red and form a puckered silver…much like your mystical eyes.” I cup her face, thumbs lingering below her delicate, dark eyelashes. “As to your sub-question: needleplay is a guarantee. Piercing. Rope play as I’m an accomplished rigger, anal training, chocolate, erotic massage, clamps, all manner of toys, sensual play with sight deprivation, feathers, ribbons, and suspension. Nine.”
Glad to see I can still surprise her given how much she’s blushing and how hard she swallows.
“Anything not on the list?”
I lower my brows, then take her hair and run the washcloth through it. “No golden showers. I prefer blood for unordinary bodily fluids. No shitting. No sharing . Eight.”
“Where did they make you, God of Art? Some pit of hell?”
I laugh, then shake my head. “Hell would have been a bed of roses compared to where I grew up. Seven.”
She flares her nostrils angrily. “What? You have such an oh-so-sad background, and you’re just a misunderstood, morally gray man with mommy issues, so I’m supposed to swoon and stroke your ego?”
I roll my eyes with a casual smirk, though my chest tightens. “Hardly, Little Quill. I’ve built my ego brick by brick, brush by brush until it could shame one of your Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. I am not a misunderstood or morally gray man who will gaslight you into believing I’m some victim. I do not need your love or pity. All I require is your authenticity. Six.”
“And my obedience?” she grumbles.
“On the contrary, if your rebellion, rage, fear, or other is your truth, I fully expect you to respond however your heart leads you. And I will respond accordingly. It’s why I came when you stabbed me. Every emotion you give me is mine to cherish. Everything is a gift. Pain just happens to get me off more as well as the fire in your eyes and your goddamn goddess cunt. Five.”
“Newton’s Third Law of Motion then?”
I nod slowly, not disguising my feral grin. “And survival of the fittest. I will survive.” I stab a finger at her. “ You will break. And once I resurrect you through my art, you will live only for me. Four.”
“I think you missed your calling for poetry. You could call your first book ‘The Art of Manipulation and Pain: A Self-Help Guide.’ Five stars on Goodreads already.” My blood heats, my skin tingles with her cheeky quips. She’s playing with me. “Or maybe ‘How to Break and Resurrect Your Girlfriend in Ten Easy Steps.’ Sounds like a real page-turner.”
I tilt my head, grinning down at her, my cock hardening.
She gives me a quizzical look. “What?”
“Did you just call yourself my girlfriend ?”
Sudden recognition in her eyes. White shock followed by burning cheeks.
“No.”
“Lying has consequences, Little Quill.”
“It was just an expression.”
“Regarding titles, I prefer lover and muse for now.”
She sighs, and I decide not to tease her more. Her fingers glide slowly along my pecs. I stiffen at the intimate touch, jaw steeling at how she traces my carved flesh and the tattoos.
“You went somewhere,” she murmurs, her voice tender,. Her concerned eyes follow her fingers, lingering on the blood drops and the labyrinth of scars. “When you were carving my skin, something happened. You were trembling. You had this expression that was like hurt and violence mixed together and then agony. Like you were in some dark place.” Her glassy gray eyes lift to mine as she touches her palm to my chest, then a light brushing of my shoulder wound. “What were you thinking about? What were you remembering, Cal?”
I drop the washcloth. I grind my jaw, wishing she hadn’t asked such a question, wishing she hadn’t seen my torment. I swipe a hand down my face, but I owe her. After everything, I owe her and I gave her twenty questions.
But I need something first. Need a level of control I can manage when I reveal the answer.
“What are you doing?” she asks after I’ve swept her into my arms. “That didn’t count,” she follows with a frown.
“I will tell you, Little Quill. But I will tend to our wounds first.” After this, I need her beauty, her bondage to keep me grounded.
She doesn’t protest. Fuck, she undoes me when she leans her head on my shoulder.
It doesn’t take long to wrap her mark and my wound. I smirk, knowing it will leave a scar. She’s scarred me. It will be my greatest honor to wear such a scar.
Pulling back the sheets in the bedroom, I order her to lie on her stomach, praising her when she obeys. She’s quite attuned to praise, shivering whenever I say ‘good girl’.
No battles as I loop silk, scarlet ribbons around her wrists, then coil them expertly around her body, framing her breasts with them, though I lay her on her stomach again. I smile because her ass still bears my spanking marks, but they’ve faded to deep pink.
After I place a blindfold upon her eyes, I retrieve a bottle of lube, part her rosy pink cheeks, then trickle a few drops into her anus. She clenches, the puckered ring clamping down.
“Soften your muscles, sweet girl,” I urge and draw a solitary finger along the curvature of her spine.
“Mmm…” she moans, tensing more. “I can’t! the chastity belt, the plug, ugh…”
I give her bottom a light smack. “Relax.”
She shakes her head, my little brat. “Yeah, let me just call my yoga instructor for tips on downward dog under duress.”
I pinch her bottom.
“God!” she squeals. “Maybe if you hadn’t accessorized me like a medieval dungeon Barbie, I’d have better luck.”
I chuckle. “Is that Cherry talking?”
“Um…no, she’s currently shoving a dildo up her ass, hoping I’ll live vicariously through her.”
Fuck. I can forgive her defiance because she’s comfortable with me. Comfortable enough to get cheeky and share her inner landscape.
Everleigh fades for a few moments, no doubt arguing with her coping mechanism. Apparently, it works since all her muscles soften. Enough for me to slide the training plug into the delicate ring of nerves. Not surprised she clamps around it once it’s in. I rub oil into her bottom, massaging in a reward. I need to feel her skin beneath my hand, her warmth.
Feeling every curve, every contour of her flesh, I inhale deeply, chest tightening with a familiar ache, and begin. “I was orphaned at an early age…”