Chapter 16
Chapter 16
Callisto
It was different with Rory. It was all different.
Normally she was in charge, she set the pace, and she decided what happened. Callisto was used to taking what she wanted from a man—sex was more of a battle than anything tender and sweet, a power play of dominance and submission. But something about Rory affected her deeply. Instead of throwing him on the counter and riding him until he begged for mercy, she wanted to give herself to him. Truly give herself.
Being helpless and trusting him seemed the perfect way she could do it. The thought of being totally at someone else’s mercy scared her shitless. Yet here she was giving herself to Rory and allowing him control.
It never had to mean anything.
That’s why it was all so different with Rory.
He explored her gently and sweetly, and she was wet for him. He was on his knees for her and she might have been bound, but she still felt a heady rush at seeing his strength at her feet.
Honestly, she watched his bowed head without him knowing she was doing it and she felt something almost like tenderness for him. That felt wrong. It didn’t all feel wrong and that was the problem. She should never be doing this with him. She should never have accepted his help. Sex with no strings attached was just sex, just a purely physical act derived from needs and desires. It was just pleasure at best.
This wouldn’t be just anything.
She should kick him away and write him an apology. He was the kind of man who would get it. He’d wait patiently for her to change her mind and he’d help her all the same. There wasn’t a single spot of darkness or badness in all of Rory’s makeup. That also didn’t feel all wrong. Not anymore. That was how she knew she had a serious problem.
She’d never known herself to be so weak before, but fuck, his tongue felt so good as it glided up her center. Her toes barely scraped the floor, but she rocked her hips towards his face with what leverage she could get.
Not only did his mouth feel good, he was skilled.
Within a few minutes, he had her aching for release and showed no signs of hurrying up about it, it was like the sweetest torture she could imagine.
Callisto couldn’t even make sound, but she found herself clenching her jaw tight and grinding her teeth together against the sweeping tremors that rocked through her. It was a tide, coming and going, the water lapping far too gently against the shore, but that calm ocean could turn in a second. She was already aching.
He teased her, dancing his tongue over her clit. He saved her entrance for last, when she was bucking her hips and swinging violently from her tether, trying to get closer, trying to get him inside of her. He didn’t enter her, but came so close, again and again. He purposely evaded her, but his tongue felt glorious stroking along her folds. Every time she tried to get closer to his mouth, he moved somewhere else. It was worse than torture, especially because every so often, he’d give her clit a hard lick or suck on it just enough to make the pleasure feel like broken shards of glass forced through her veins.
He parted her wider and this time, purposely sucked hard on her clit. Darkness started to edge around the corners of her vision. She stood on her toes and swayed into Rory, trying, trying to get closer to him. She realized she was getting close to the point of no longer even being in control. She never lost that part of herself. She never abandoned herself over to anything or anyone.
Rory looked up at her and she only looked down because he stopped so abruptly. His face was wet from her, and he slowly licked his lips and groaned. A shiver tore through her. He seemed so at ease down there on his knees and so strangely huge and built, gorgeous and powerful. His cock was rigid, and she felt her clit throbbing as she looked at his magnificence. If she had a voice, she would have begged him to untie her and thrust deep inside, but the thrill of this situation was allowing him to set the pace.
“Are you going to come?”
She shook her head. He wasn’t letting her come, but he clearly wasn’t playing games. She didn’t want to reveal how close she was.
“What if I put my tongue inside of you?”
She shuddered and he noticed because his hands wrapped around her hips this time, leaving her thighs.
He didn’t do it immediately. He teased her again and then sucked her clit so hard she thought she might truly die. His fingers dug into her ass, bringing her hard into his mouth. She was shaking from trying to hold back well before he parted her folds with his tongue and then plunged it inside of her without warning. There was no tease first, and if she could have screamed, she would have. Her mouth opened and her hands strained at the leggings bound around them.
Rory used his tongue, thrusting it into and out of her and her hips pumped with the rhythm. Yeah, she was mindless with it. There was no other way to describe the involuntary way her body reacted to the pleasure. She was so wet and it was loud, but that only made it darker and hotter. He fucked her slowly with his tongue, that steady rhythm driving her insane. She wondered if he’d do the same thing with his cock.
Please more. Please, please, please.
Rory knew her body seemingly without effort. He filled her with two fingers, right to the knuckles, while sucking her clit. He was good with his hands, which made sense, given that he’d spent a lifetime working with them. He knew just where to touch her inside as well. He found that spot that made her go weak. She sagged against the bindings, nearly losing her knees and feet completely.
He used his mouth, working her furiously with his fingers. There was no gentleness in him now, but still, she knew he’d never truly hurt her. He wasn’t going to stop hitting that spot. Every single thrust, every single curl, brought her closer and closer.
The climax still hit her with shocking force. Her head went back and she twisted and thrashed against the bindings. Her arm muscles grew hot from holding the weight of her entire limp body up. She didn’t care. The pleasure took over, roaring through her, parting her like the bow of a great ship cleaves the water.
If Rory kept going, he could twist her up into senselessness. He could bring her near her breaking point. He could wring every single bit of sense from her. She panted, her lungs working double time and still not taking in enough air. Her nostrils burned with the brutal effort to breathe.
Holy shit, holy fuck, oh my god.
Rory stood up, letting the pleasure curl softly through her as the edges and aftershocks took hold. He didn’t wind her up again, didn’t keep sucking her sore clit or hitting that spot inside of her until the pleasure became dark and violent, more like a weapon than a gift.
Her eyes opened slowly. They felt so heavy. She nearly choked when she tried to swallow. He wiped his glistening chin and nodded at her. Like a- a- fuck, she didn’t even have words for whatever that was like. A gentleman? A white knight? For once, she didn’t hate it.
He moved to undo her wrists. “I’m going to untie you now.”
He did and then he stepped back. He had that look of someone who was just… finished, even though his cock was rigid, and he had to be in agony at how hard he was. She studied him, well and truly confused as to his sudden shift.
“I’m not- I won’t- I don’t think it’s the right time for this right now.” He ran his hand through his hair, embarrassed and shy. “It might be old fashioned, but I’d like it to mean something emotionally before we- uh…”
She was still trying to get her breath back, but she nodded, putting him out of his misery. She didn’t throw the notebook at him with something snarky written there, something along the lines of, ‘was your tongue buried in my pussy not meaningful?’She let him be, even though a confession like that should have produced scorn in epic quantities, but she felt nothing but the faint warmth of the lingering climax. Her hormones were entirely screwed.
Rory turned his back to pull on his jeans again. She wasn’t sure what had changed between them, clearly at the start he’d wanted to have sex with her, and even now as he stuffed his still-hard cock into his pants and pulled up the zipper, he was ready. She didn’t pick up that he was disappointed, or ashamed, or any other negative emotion. He wasn’t rejecting her.
She had to take him on his words, he didn’t do emotionless fucking.
Callisto quickly pulled on her legging and shirt and stepped to the door when she was done. He turned around and followed silently.
He locked the door behind her when they slipped back upstairs. The house was still quiet and mostly dark. She’d slipped out only a few hours ago. Hours that had turned into lifetimes.
“Goodnight,” Rory mumble-whispered.
She moved off without looking at him. It was a cowardly thing to not be able to face him, but it was what it was.
She opened the door to the bedroom and slipped in. Sophia was there in the bed, sleeping the deep and peaceful sleep of a full-on traitor.
Callisto shook her shoulder, waking her roughly. She worried for a second that Sophia would be able to smell the sex on her, to read her face, but Sophia wasn’t a shifter, and it was dark.
She ripped the blanket off the bed and threw it on the floor. She turned on the lamp and stood a few paces away. Sophia blinked at her, groggy at being so roughly startled out of sleep. I’m not sleeping beside a traitor, Callisto signed.
Sophia shook her head, and hissed quietly so they wouldn’t wake the kids “It would have been traitorous to let you do nothing. If someone you love is on fire, would you not do everything you can to put it out, knowing they can still be saved, or would you watch them burn up?”
I wasn’t on fire.
Weren’t you?
It wasn’t your story to tell, Callisto signed.
“Maybe not, but you were never going to tell it. You were going to hurt everyone and hurt yourself and I couldn’t let you do that. I would never have said anything if I didn’t trust Rory. I can’t take it back. We just have to live with it now.”
Callisto didn’t have a smart rejoinder for that. She turned off the lamp with so much force that the pull cord struck the metal base, echoing through the room.
She curled up on the blanket on the hardwood floor, pulling it around her roughly. A few minutes later, something soft and feathery whapped her on the back.
A pillow.
It was a long time before she turned around and put her hand on it. She could see the dark, shadowy outline of Sophia in the bed, already sleeping deeply again.