Chapter 19 #2
I put my hands on his face. I need a second outside of being kissed senseless to just see him. I feel the coarse stubble under my palms and take him in.
Stormy isn't the right word for what I find in his eyes. He looks tormented.
"Hey," I whisper, tilting his face toward mine. "What's wrong?"
He leans into my palm, eyes closing again for a moment.
"I have never seen you in a dress before," he admits roughly. "And here you are. In a beautiful dress. For someone else."
I hold his face in my hands and think about all the times I wanted him to hold my gaze exactly like this while he turned away instead.
"You never asked me to wear one for you."
I'm not cruel, but still. He knows I'm right.
"I'm here now," I offer softly. "Callahan, I'm right here."
He makes a sound like pain, before he looks down at my mouth and then the neckline of my dress.
"Take it off." He says it like he's finally run out of patience.
Heat floods through me at his words, pooling low in my belly. The raw edge in his voice sends a hot, liquid pulse between my thighs, and I haven't even opened my mouth to fire back before his hand slides down and wraps around my throat. I go very still under it.
His mouth finds my lips, before moving down my throat. Teeth first, a slow graze, and then he sucks hard and I know he's just marked me.
"Fuck, Call..."
His hand squeezes then and his name dies on my lips.
"I don't know which version of you I like best," he growls against my lips, low and dangerous. "The one who can't stop tormenting me with that smart mouth..." His tongue grazes my lower lip, slow and filthy. "Or this needy version of you, right in the palm of my hand."
I whimper. Completely and without dignity.
"Look at that," he murmurs, his gaze dropping to my mouth and climbing back up. "You love that, don't you?"
Oh, he's dangerous like this. I want to say something sharp. I have several options available, but when I open my mouth nothing comes out.
He smiles. Slow and a little terrible, flashing those sharp canines of his, like he's just found something he's been looking for and will never let it go.
"Gunmetal eyes," he murmurs, almost to himself. His hold on my throat tightens. "And not a single word. Who knew it was that easy?"
I'm going to kill him. Later.
My head falls back against the wall, thighs clenching as arousal throbs between my legs. I have never felt this undone, this exposed.
His hand leaves my throat and I miss it instantly. Finding the hem of my dress he pulls it up and over my head in one motion, and tosses it somewhere behind him.
Cool air hits my skin, then his body heat, then his palm cupping my breast through my bra, thumb circling until I ache under the fabric.
He rips the cup down and puts his mouth on me and I forget every pushback I ever had. It’s hot and wet, and then there's the sting of his teeth, enough to make me gasp, and then his tongue soothing over it. He does it again. And again. Until I stop keeping track.
I cry out and my hands go into his hair, fingers threading in, and he makes a low approving sound against my skin that goes straight down my spine.
"Where are your words now, Trouble?" He pulls back just enough to catch my eye, sharp and a little mean. "You always have so many of them."
His thigh slides between mine like it belongs there, keeping me exactly where he wants me.
"Callahan," I whisper. "Please."
The name comes out wrong, too needy. He leaves my skin slowly, like he's reluctant to do it. His lips are swollen and his eyes look darker than I've ever seen them.
"Please what, Lily?" His voice is calm, too calm, considering the burn of his eyes. “Are you actually begging?”
Sweet, patient Callahan has a mean streak in bed. Or he does with me, and I discover that I love it. I love that he's not handling me like something fragile, like I might shatter if he stops being careful. He knows I can take it.
I bite my lip. A year since I met him, of wanting and waiting and pretending otherwise, and now he's looking at me like that, and my bratty streak picks the absolute worst moment to resurface.
"Make me feel good," I say sweetly. "Like a good boy."
His face goes very serious, very fast. In a blink his hand shoots up, grabbing my face again.
His palm cups my cheek, fingers digging in just shy of pain.
He forces my gaze to his, and I see it. The good-boy facade splintering wide open, and underneath it there's hunger.
Possessive and laced with something darker, and I throb between my thighs.
"Good boy?" he rasps, voice like gravel. "You think that's what I am?"
I swallow. My heart is beating too fast, but I hold his gaze anyway.
"So prove me wrong."
For a second I think he might laugh. Instead he leans closer until his mouth is right next to mine. His thumb brushes once along my jaw, almost thoughtful. I had always suspected, maybe even wished, that he had a dark side to him. Seeing it this close is something else entirely.
"This smart mouth of yours keeps volunteering you for things you're not prepared to handle," he warns, voice so steady it's unfair. "You've been tormenting me for months. Taunting me. Tempting me. Looking at me like you know exactly what it does to me."
He turns me around. My cheek hits the cool wall, my hands pinned above my head, his body flush against my back. I feel every inch of him and think, distantly, that I have severely miscalculated.
His hand slides between my thighs. He tsks three times against my ear, finding me wet.
"Already," he mocks, fingers parting me, finding exactly what he's looking for. "Look at this wet little cunt. All of this for me and you still want to play games?"
I can't answer. I'm too busy pressing back against his hand, desperate for more. More of his touch, his filthy mouth. More of this Callahan, who is finally, finally mine.
"This what you wanted?" He hooks a finger into the fabric and pulls it aside, two fingers pushing inside me, deep and curling just right. "Me taking you apart?"
"Yes," I gasp. "Yes, Callah..."
"You can be such a good girl after all," he murmurs, adding another finger. I am full already.
"Your cunt is dripping into my hand. I could eat and drink it."
I can’t stay still. He doesn't seem to mind as he works me open slowly and then faster, his cock hard against my lower back through his jeans. I push back against his hand because a year is a long time to wait and I am finished being patient about any of this.
"Callahan," I whimper, just as I shatter with my cheek against the wall.
My whole body shakes with it, and he works me through every last second until I sag and can't give him anything else. Only then does he pull his hand free.
His arm locks around my waist, holding me up effortlessly, his breath hot against my ear.
"Yeah," he rasps. "Just like I imagined.”
I press my forehead to the wall as his hands find my hair. All of it, thick and heavy, and he gathers it slowly, moves it to one side, lets it fall over my shoulder. His fingers drag through it from root to end, deliberate, like he's been thinking about doing exactly that.
His other hand strokes my neck, spreading my wetness there. His mouth finds it, licking it off of me slowly.
"I have thought about this hair," he admits, low and rough, "wrapped around my hand."
His hand fists in my strands, pulling just enough to arch my back, exposing more of my skin to his lips as they trail hot kisses everywhere he can reach. He unclasps my bra, yanking it down roughly, freeing my breasts completely to the cool air.