Chapter 23 #3
And she is risking it. I am fucking risking it.
We have not covered birth control yet and we both know it, and I should care.
I should be the one thinking straight. But I look at her like this, taking me so perfectly, begging for more, and the thought of pulling out feels like something that happens to other people.
Responsible people. People who aren't completely fucking lost in her.
I'm losing control and I don't care. The restraint I've been building all night is coming apart at the seams. She's pulling the threads.
Seeing the indent of my fingers as I grip her ass hard and spread her cheeks wider has me weak. My thumb circles her rim, and I can't help but push in just a little. She gasps and pushes back against me.
The air leaves my lungs. That she'd give me this too, open herself up like there's no part of her she'd keep from me. It wrecks me in a way I'm not ready for.
"Fuck, look at this hole just begging to be fucked." I can barely think straight. "Is that what you want? To fill all your holes with my cum?"
"Yes, yes." She's moaning into the pillow. "Oh God, yes. They're all yours to fuck. Do as you wish with me."
I fuck her like a caged animal until I can't resist anymore.
I pull out of her just to latch my mouth on her, licking her from clit to ass over and over, spreading her wetness to her tight hole, then pushing in with my tongue.
My head is clouded with desire, nothing left but her taste and her sounds and the way she spreads wider to give me access.
She goes completely still for one second. Then a moan so low it sounds like it surprises even her.
"Why are you so fucking perfect everywhere I taste you?"
She pants beneath me. "B-because I'm yours."
Her words drive me even madder. I whimper at the thought of her being mine. Mine. All mine.
"I knew you'd be like this." I can barely form sentences. "My pathetic little fucktoy."
With one last lick from front to back, I drive into her again.
"I am," she gasps. "I am."
I fuck her deeper, harder, delirious with the need to fill her.
"I need you." She's crying now, or moaning, or both. "Fill me, Callahan. Please."
"Fuck. Take it." I'm right there, right at the edge. "Take it all. It belongs to you anyway."
I come with a growl as soon as I hear her scream, her pussy walls clenching around me so hard I see stars. I bury my face in her neck and let go. Every last piece of control, every wall, every rule I've built around myself.
I hold her through it. Keep her there. Keep her close. Need her close. Need her.
We're tangled together in her ruined sheets.
She's on my chest with her hands roaming up and down my stomach, tracing idle patterns on my skin.
I have my face in her hair and I keep kissing it every few seconds because I can't stop myself.
She smells like sex and shampoo and I want to live in this moment for the rest of my life.
Her eyes lift to mine and everything in me goes still. I don't know what I expected to see, but the bliss in her glazed eyes, the way she looks at me like I'm something precious, wasn't it.
She traces a line down my jaw with her finger. Casual. Like she's checking I'm still there.
"You good?" she asks.
"Yeah." I chuckle, but my voice sounds like I've swallowed gravel. "I'm good."
"Cool."
She stretches beside me, arching her back, then resettles with her arms above her head on the pillow.
"So that's what vanilla tastes like."
I drop my face into her neck and laugh. It comes from somewhere deep and exhausted and relieved, and once it starts I can't stop it.
I roll off her before I crush her and lie on my back staring at her ceiling while we both lose it completely.
"You're going to get me killed," I tell the ceiling. "Rome is going to find out and I am going to die, and the last thing I'll hear before he buries me is you making a vanilla joke."
"At least you'll die laughing."
"At least I'll die happy."
She rolls onto her side and presses her face into my shoulder. I can feel her grinning against my skin. Her hand finds mine between us, fingers lacing through mine. We lie there while her apartment settles around us.
When she tilts her face up to mine, I'm astonished at how her beauty still slams into me. Like that first time I saw her. Her face is bare of any makeup, the freckles across her nose and cheeks more visible than usual.
She traces her fingers across my only tattoo. Not many people have seen it. I've never explained it to anyone, not even when they asked.
It's simple. Four numbers splayed vertically on my side, close to my ribs. Close to my heart.
"Six. Five. Seven. Five," she whispers. "It's beautiful on you. What does it mean?"
There's no hesitation on my part to tell her. Not even a sliver of it.
"It's six thousand five hundred and seventy-five days." I keep my eyes on hers. "That's how many days I had with my mom. From the day I was born to the day she died."
Her eyes well up and I have to swallow hard past the lump in my throat.
"Callahan..."
"No tears, baby, please." I kiss her hair and pull her close, wrapping my arms around her. "I can't stand it. I'm okay. Just don't cry."
She nods against my shoulder, but I can feel her tears anyway.
So I hold her like if I let go she might disappear. And when she holds me just as close, her arms wrapped around me like she's trying to keep me together, I know I'm in big trouble.