Chapter 30
CALLUM
Callum needed some alone time with Alejandra, but being in the middle of the Athlete Zone during a USL event final wasn’t exactly ideal for his intentions. So, he sucked it up, staying by her side, probably leaning a bit too close for what was appropriate. But she didn’t seem to mind.
Her green eyes were trained on the competition—the one she was supposed to be in.
Amira, Ilias’ sister, was going head-to-head with a New Zealand girl for the final heat.
Both looked incredible out there, in the opinion of someone who had surfed a couple of times when he was younger but abandoned it when life demanded a desk job and a post-grad degree.
Truthfully, he had never been a surfer boy, more of a swimming pool person, which had led him to get that Harvard scholarship that had made his mother so proud.
As their gazes were trained on the waves, the wind coming from the ocean was chilly, biting through his jacket.
He reached out and took Alejandra’s right hand, partly to warm her fingers, mostly for the excuse to touch her.
She just glanced at him, her expression unreadable, before refocusing on the ocean. But her fingers laced through his.
When Amira won, Alejandra jumped to her feet, cheering. She was genuinely happy, but behind the brightness in her smile, Callum caught the flicker of longing. Of loss.
He couldn't let her spiral. And he couldn’t leave without reminding her what they could be. Not just emotionally. Physically.
“Come with me,” he said suddenly, tugging gently at her hand.
She followed him out of the Athlete Zone, no questions asked, just curious confusion clouding her brow.
By the time they reached Lamina’s booth, the kids had already packed most of the gear. The place was deserted. He sent a silent prayer of thanks to whatever divine force had cleared the path.
“What are we doing here?”
He locked the door behind them, then turned to check the window—shut. Only dim afternoon light filtered through the slats of the wooden stall, draping everything in golden shadow.
“We're here,” he said, stepping toward her, voice low and lethal, “to take the edge off before I have to fly back to London and start going mad thinking about you again.”
His hand slipped around her neck, holding her gently, firmly.
“I can’t,” she whispered, pupils already wide with lust. “My shoulder…”
“You won’t have to do anything, cariad.” His lips hovered over hers. “Let me take care of you. Do you trust me?”
When he slid his thumb over her lower lip, then gently into her mouth, she took him in eagerly—popping it between her lips, sucking slowly, eyes locked on his like she was starving.
“I do,” she breathed.
“I won’t hurt you,” he promised. “But I need you to remember how fucking good we are together. No games. I’m done pretending we don’t want this.”
And before she could argue—because she would—he pressed his lips to hers.
A devouring, soul-stealing kiss. Desperate, dizzying.
Tongues tangled. Teeth grazed. She moaned into him as he deepened it, hand trailing down to her breast, stroking over her sweater until her nipple peaked beneath the fabric.
She gasped when he guided her backward, carefully helping her onto the table. Her legs opened for him instinctively, inviting him in.
“You’re going to be quiet, cariad,” he murmured, brushing his nose along her throat. “Just soft moans. Whispers. No one can know I’m about to ruin you in the middle of a damn market.”
He kissed the sling over her shoulder, reverent, then returned to her lips.
Her right hand found his hair, fingers carding through it as she sighed, “They’re so soft. I’ve wanted to touch them since the day I saw you.”
“I’ve always been yours to touch, Alejandra.” He smirked. “But now… let me touch you.”
He unbuttoned her jeans, dragging them down gently, watching for any wince. Her panties were already soaked. Pale green. Lace.
“Anything hurt?” he asked, kneeling between her thighs.
“No,” she whispered. “Please. Do it.”
Begging. Fuck. Music to his ears.
“As you wish, brenhines.”
He licked the full length of her slit, groaning at the taste of her. She tasted like sin and sunlight. Her hips bucked, her fingers in his hair, pushing him deeper, closer.
He inserted one finger. She clenched.
Two. She whimpered.
“Look at me,” he commanded, voice a rasp against her thigh. “Look how fucking good you look on my face. Your cum. Your mess. Mine.”
She opened her eyes, dilated, wild.
He added a third finger and curled, pumping hard, mouth latching to her clit with precision that made her jerk. Her good hand gripped his head, trying to anchor herself as her legs started to shake.
“I can feel it,” he growled. “You’re about to shatter for me, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she gasped. “Don’t stop—don’t—”
He didn’t. He doubled down, tongue relentless, fingers merciless, until she shattered, hips bucking, moaning his name like a prayer. Her thighs clamped around his face, and he let her ride it out, tasting every last drop of her release. He would have died there.
“Oh my god,” she whispered, breathless. “Let me touch you.”
“No, Alejandra,” he said, standing, eyes dark. “You’ll just watch. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
He undid his jeans, releasing his cock, dripping with precum. Her eyes widened in awe.
“Let me kneel. Please,” she begged again, biting her lip.
“Come then.”
She dropped to her knees, one hand bracing against the table. Her eyes were locked on his shaft. Her mouth parted just slightly—inviting, dangerous.
He pumped himself slowly, sliding the tip along her lips, her cheeks, her chin. She moaned. It was almost too much.
“I need you to recover,” he grunted, “come to London, and let me fuck you senseless for hours.”
“Yes,” she panted. “I want that too.”
He tapped the head of his cock against her tongue. She stuck it out for him like a good girl.
“You’re going to take it,” he said, voice ragged, “but you’re not going to swallow until I say so.”
She nodded eagerly, eyes blazing with lust.
When he came, it was hard, hot, and fast. He slid into her open mouth, not too deep, letting her taste every drop.
“Show me.”
She opened her mouth, tongue out, showing his cum pooling there.
“Swallow.”
Her throat worked as she obeyed. Then she licked her lips, and smiled.
Fuck.
He reached for a paper towel, cleaned her up gently, reverently, and then pulled her into a soft kiss.
“No more no contact,” he said, breath warm against her lips.
She nodded, eyes still hazy.
“Okay,” she breathed. “Okay.”