15. Caleb #2
"Had to do something with all that frustration."
She laughs, low and wicked as she shifts back and drinks in my hard length. "Let me help with that." Her hand wraps around me, and holy hell, I nearly come right then.
"Fuck, Serena."
"Six months, right?" She strokes me slowly, learning what makes me curse. "That's a long time to wait."
"You have no idea—" I groan as she twists her wrist. "Fuck, Serena."
"No one else?" She looks up at me, something vulnerable in her eyes despite her hand still working me. "Really?"
"No one." I reach down to cup her face. "I told you—I haven't even looked at another woman. Couldn't. They weren't you."
"That's..." She blinks, like she's trying to process. "Caleb, that's?—"
"Pathetic? Obsessive?"
"Hot," she breathes, then bends down to take me in her mouth, effectively ending the conversation.
She does it slow, too, like she's savoring the moment as much as the taste.
The first wet heat of her mouth on my cock nearly blanks out my vision.
I fist the sheets, fighting not to buck up and tangle my fists in her hair.
Serena looks up as I slide between her lips, eyes dark and challenging, and the look she gives me sends one more jolt of hunger through my already overloaded system.
"Fuck, Serena, you're killing me." I let my head fall back as she works me, tentative at first, then gaining confidence with every pass of her tongue.
She circles the tip, traces the underside, taking me as deep as she can and then pulling back, smiling a little when I groan.
She's competitive even now, and the thought makes me want to fuck her even harder.
See how deep she could swallow me down if I urged her to.
Just as I'm about to lose control, I grab her shoulders, force her gently up, and flip her onto her back again.
She laughs, even as she's gasping for air. "Neanderthal," she says, then bites her lip. "Don't stop. I want you inside me. Please tell me you're clean."
"I am. Are you on birth control?"
"Yes. Fuck, yes."
I'm already there, lining up at her entrance, barely able to keep my voice low enough to speak. "Serena…"
She pulls me in with her legs, wraps them around my hips. "Don't wait."
The first thrust is like breaking through the surface and tasting air after being underwater for years.
I slide into her and she moans, low and unrestrained, head thrown back on the pillow like she's already half gone.
She's so tight, so perfect, I have to hold still or this is going to be over embarrassingly fast.
"Move," she demands, wrapping her legs around me, those heels digging into my ass. "Please, Caleb, I need you to move."
The wordless, animal sound that comes out of me isn't even human. I move because I have to—because I can't not—thrusting into her with a power and desperation I've never let myself give anyone.
"Fuck, Caleb, yes," she gasps, arching beneath me. "Harder."
"You feel so fucking perfect," I groan against her neck. "Jesus, Serena, you're going to kill me. So tight, so perfect, so fucking mine."
"You too," she breathes, nails raking down my back. "Oh God, you too."
There's no distance, no restraint, just the honest, brutal physics of bodies colliding. Her body meets mine like we're built for it. Like the two of us were designed with this moment in mind.
"More," she begs, wrapping her legs tighter. "Please, I need more."
"Greedy," I growl, but I give it to her, driving deeper.
"Caleb!" She cries my name, and I bite her shoulder to keep from yelling loud enough to get us both arrested on a noise complaint. The dress stays on, twisted and bunched, the heels bruise my hips, and it feels so fucking perfect I never want to stop.
"I'm close," she pants. "Don't stop, don't you dare?—"
"Fuck, Serena." I have to slow, have to go still, have to grit my teeth and hold my breath. "Need a second or this is going to be over."
"No," she protests, trying to move her hips. "Please, I need?—"
I bite her shoulder for real and she lets out a noise so wild it makes me want to do it again, want to leave teeth marks all the way down her body, paint her in proof that she was mine, that she was here, that all those months of absence, of hunger, of obsessive, lonely hope, were not all in my head.
I pin her wrists above her head and fuck her so deep and so slow she starts to shiver, starts to fall apart, her legs not just shaking but kicking out, calf muscle flexing with every drive.
"Yes," she gasps. "God, Caleb. Yes!"
She struggles her hands free and yanks my face down to hers, kissing me so hard we both lose the air to breathe.
"Don't ever stop," she pants against my mouth. "Please, please don't stop."
"Never," I promise, feeling her cunt tighten around me.
"Caleb! Oh God, Caleb!"
She explodes, gripping me so hard her nails bite into my shoulders. The sound she makes is wild, nearly a sob.
"Fuck, Serena!"
I come hard, with no warning, her name torn from my throat as everything whites out. It's a perfect, ruinous mess. I collapse onto her, pinning her with my full weight, both of us gasping for air.
"Fuck," I pant against her neck.
"Holy shit," she breathes, her hands still clutching my shoulders.
I don't realize my hand is shaking until I push sweaty hair off her face and find I'm trembling like a fucking teenager.
"Jesus," I gasp, then realize that's not even the right word. It doesn't touch it. There isn't enough oxygen left in the room for words. I rest my forehead against hers, trying to will my heart back to a reasonable rate.
"Caleb."
For a terrifying second I expect her to roll out from under me, put her dress in place and pretend none of this ever happened. Instead, she wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me closer, lips on my ear.
"That was…" She laughs, husky and wild, like she can't believe it herself.
"Insane?" I finish for her, since my own head is still pure static.
She licks the corner of my mouth. "Insane."
I laugh, and it comes out in a rough, open-throated sound, bigger and better than anything I've felt in months. "My god. Insane is right. I don't think I can even feel my legs."
"Give it a minute." She stretches under me, then immediately winces. "OK, maybe two minutes."
There's no pretense left. Just the sweat cooling on our skin and the way her dress is completely rucked up to her waist, a debauched crimson puddle at the center of an immaculate white duvet.
The overhead lights are still off. I can only see her by the sticky halo of bedside lamp, turning the satin red molten and her skin a shade of gold I never imagined.
She tucks a hand under my jaw, her thumb stroking the place she just finished biting. "Keep looking at me like that," she whispers, "and I'll jump your bones again."
I stroke back a lock of hair sticking to her cheek, my thumb tracing the flushed streak on her jaw. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," I say, honestly, fully, so hard it almost hurts to admit. "Don't ever let anyone convince you otherwise."
She makes a sound in her throat—equal parts disbelief and hope. "Even now? All… wrecked?"
"Especially now." I kiss her neck, taste the salty sweat, and make a path down to the curve of her shoulder. "You should always look like this. Barely held together, but fighting to stay on top anyway."
She laughs, then rolls me over fast enough that I nearly lose my balance. She straddles my hips, and for a minute I just look at her, all wild hair and bruised lips. Then I reach up, my fingers finding the bow at her waist.
"Take it off," I murmur, tugging gently at the tie. "I want to feel you naked against me."
She immediately stiffens and catches my hand, but instead of letting me pull the bow loose, she reaches down and tightens the sash, retying it with quick, practiced movements.
"I should shower," she says, climbing off me before I can respond. "I'm all... sticky."
"Serena—"
But she's already disappearing into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind her. Not slammed, but definitely closed. A barrier.
I lie there, staring at the ceiling, my body still humming from the best sex of my life while my brain tries to process what just happened. She let me inside her body but won't let me see it. She screamed my name loud enough to wake the dead but can't take off a dress.
The shower starts running, and I consider joining her, but something tells me that door is closed for a reason. Whatever she's hiding under that dress, whatever makes her need the lights low and the fabric between us—it's bigger than post-orgasm vulnerability.
I grab my boxers from the floor and pull them on, then grab a water from the mini bar, trying to piece together the puzzle of Serena Morgan.
The woman who commands million-dollar campaign budgets without breaking a sweat but can't let me undress her.
The woman who took control of my body like she owned it but tightened her dress like armor the second I asked for more.
The bathroom door opens fifteen minutes later. She emerges in one of the hotel robes, her hair wet, the red dress draped over her arm.
"Hi," she says, hovering in the doorway like she might bolt.
"Come here."
She does, cautiously, perching on the edge of the bed like she's ready to run. I pull her against me, ignoring her tension.
"We need to talk about?—"
"No," she interrupts. "We don't. Not tonight. Please."
I study her face in the low light—the vulnerability, the fear, the exhaustion. Whatever this is, pushing won't help.
"OK," I say finally. "Not tonight."
She relaxes against me, and I pull her down onto the bed, spooning her from behind. Through the terry cloth robe, I can feel her trembling slightly.
"For what it's worth," I murmur against her ear, "you're still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Dress or no dress. Lights on or off. That's not going to change."
She doesn't respond, but she laces her fingers through mine where they rest against her stomach.
We lie there in the dark, her body slowly unclenching against mine, and I realize this is going to be more complicated than I thought. Not the sex—the sex is fucking incredible. But getting her to trust me with whatever she's hiding? That might take more than one night.
Good thing I've already waited six months. I can be patient a little longer. Because now I know what she tastes like, what she sounds like when she comes, how she feels wrapped around me. And I'm going to spend however long it takes, stripping the fear before the fabric. I’ll make her believe she’s worth seeing—every inch, in full light—until she never wants to cover herself around me again.