Chapter 13 Aurélie
The visit didn’t last long. The doctor and nurse moved with mechanical efficiency, only asking basic questions pertaining to my vitals. I laid on the bed for a quick pelvic exam, which did, unfortunately, hurt from the endo.
I peed in a cup for them and waited for the nurse to emerge from the bathroom confirming no drugs were in my system and clearing up the pregnancy concern. Callum stayed by my side like he was orbiting me.
With my vitals logged, blood sample drawn, and a final signature confirming I’d received their “care summary,” they rose to leave, informing me everything appeared stable and they would report back to Luminis with a clearance note and pending lab results.
Out in the living room, Marco stood with his back to the open glass doors like he was blocking a camera that didn’t exist. The security guard hovered near the foyer pretending he didn’t want to melt into the floor.
Ivy was giving the medical compliance liaison a smile sharp enough to slice paper, her tone low and lethal as she outlined the consequences of any leak.
Kimi and Lucy were a matched pair on the sofa—alert, scanning, quiet, ready.
When the door shut behind them, we all exhaled.
“Excellent,” Ivy said, swiping away on her iPad. “If anyone at Luminis breathes the word ‘uterus,’ I’ll staple an NDA to their forehead.”
“Graphic,” Marco muttered.
“Effective,” she said.
Callum’s palm slid down my spine. “You good?”
I rolled my shoulders and let the tension shake off. “I’m… steady.”
“Scale? Doctor’s-hands edition,” he murmured.
“Six,” I admitted, heat flickering despite everything. His eyes went darker. Yesterday a six meant his hand between my thighs and my name against my throat. My body remembered before my brain did. Twenty-four hours was apparently our limit.
Lucy stood. “Do you want tea? A joke? A distraction? I can do a terrible British accent.”
“How about we give them privacy,” Marco cut in, surprising us all by reading the room for once. “I booked us a villa two down from here. We’ll go see if it’s ready for check-in. Then… we rally after?” He looked between me and Callum.
“Go,” Callum said, gratitude threaded through the word.
“Text if you need anything,” Ivy added, already corralling the troops.
Fifteen minutes later, the soft shuffle of normal filled the space. Ivy bickered with Marco. Kimi hooked Lucy’s overnight bag with two fingers. The thud thud of wheels rolled over the hall runner.
“Two villas down,” Ivy called. “Go claim your rooms before I itemize you.”
A chorus of yeah, yeah, boss drifted back, and in a handful of small sounds—zippers, laughter, a door snick—their orbit shifted just far enough to give us space without ever feeling far.
The villa settled. Sea, air, quiet.
Callum turned me gently, backing me into the edge of the console table by the terrace doors. “Six?” he asked again, softer now.
I nodded. “Six and climbing.”
His mouth curved. “We can keep it gentle.”
“Or we can keep it us,” I countered, voice low. “Desperate. Greedy. Impatient.”
His jaw flexed. “Aye.” Then he kissed me like the worst was already behind us—slow, reverent, heat unfurling in warm, confident circles.
His hands mapped my hips, my waist, the place beneath my ribs he always touched like it was his favorite prayer.
I melted into him, the smell of antiseptic replaced by bergamot and him.
“Color?” he breathed against my mouth.
“Green,” I whispered. “Very, very green.”
We started using colors weeks ago, after the loss.
We slowly re-introduced intimacy until we were both ready.
It was a way for us to check in with each other, not as an escape hatch, but as a covenant.
A shortcut through the haze. Green meant go, but not just go—it means yes, now, I’m with you.
Yellow meant slow down, check in, let’s breathe for a second. And red… well, we’d never used red.
We didn’t believe in safe words, not really. We believed in knowing each other down to the molecules. We believed in the storm and the calm that followed. But the color system gave us something sacred. A spell. A signal. A choice.
And I was choosing him. Always.
Callum smiled into the kiss, then gathered the hem of my T-shirt and eased it up, palms dragging heat along my sides.
I shivered. He broke the kiss only long enough to strip it over my head and drop it on the floor next to the console, eyes staying on my face like any other view was a luxury, not a requirement.
He spun me gently so I faced the sun-warmed glass.
I braced my palms on the door, the Aegean stretched wide beyond it like a sheet of hammered blue, our reflections blurring in the sunlight.
The warmth from the glass kissed my bare chest, grounding me, centering me.
And then Callum pressed in behind me, his chest flush to my back, his mouth at the crook of my neck, his knuckles skating low across my stomach until my breath hitched.
“Still good?” he murmured.
“Yes,” I said, breathless, arching. “Please, mon dominant. Please take care of me.”
He hooked his thumbs in my waistband and dragged them down.
They pooled at my ankles, followed by my underwear, and I stepped out with a soft shuffle, never taking my eyes off the ocean.
He didn’t rush. Just knelt behind me, hands on my thighs, lips brushing over the place where my hip met the curve of my ass.
“You’re shaking,” he said reverently.
“I’ve needed you all day.”
He groaned softly. “I know, baby. I’ve been trying to hold it together since we woke up.”
Then he did the one thing guaranteed to break me—he sank his teeth gently into the swell of my ass and spread me open with both hands, like I was his to feast on.
“Oh mon Dieu.” My forehead thunked against the door, my breath fogging the glass.
“You’re so soft here,” he said, voice low and fucking ruined, mouthing at the place he knew made me whimper. “Sweet little peach.”
He kissed my ass cheek, then bit again, teeth leaving a faint sting.
I moaned. That pain always cleared my mind, brought me into the moment, like snapping elastic that stilled the world and left only him, only us.
My thighs trembled. When his tongue followed, a long, deliberate swipe between my cheeks, I nearly sobbed.
He worked me open with patience that felt like worship—slow circles, lazy pressure, praise I could feel in my bones.
“You like that?” he rasped against me. “Want me to taste you right here, baby?”
“Yes,” I gasped. “Callum, fuck. Yes.” My hips pushed back into his face, but I didn’t care. My entire body felt like a live wire, hot and buzzing and ready to explode. And I was fucking weak in the knees every time he got close to my ass.
I heard him curse under his breath, heard the rustle of clothes as he adjusted himself, one hand never leaving my hip while the other worked me open again.
Then I felt it—his tongue, hot and slick, circling where I was tightest. My knees buckled.
“Such a good, slutty girl for me,” he rasped. “Aren’t you, future Mrs. Fraser?”
The name hit me like a jolt to the spine.
I cried out, my breath clawing up my throat as I dropped my forehead back to the glass.
He held me steady with one thick arm banded around my hips, forearm braced across my pelvis like he was anchoring me—like if he let go, I might fall apart completely.
His other hand splayed across my lower back, holding me open, claiming every part of me with touch and tongue and filthy praise.
“You always want it right here,” he murmured between licks, his breath hot against my skin. “So fucking greedy for it. You’re gonna be my wife, yeah?”
“Yes,” I gasped. “God, yes.”
The rhythm he found was torturous. Thorough and reverent.
He licked slow and deep, letting the tip of his tongue circle and tease, then flatten and press.
Each motion was deliberate, like he was savoring it.
Like I was his favorite meal and he had all day.
I moaned, so goddamn loud and wrecked—palms slipping against the glass as the pressure built fast and brutal.
It was erotic sacrilege, having him worship my ass this way.
My whole body trembled. The muscles in my thighs burned. My hips jerked without rhythm, chasing friction. And then, just when I thought I couldn’t take another second of the delicious torture, I felt his fingers slip lower.
He didn’t stop with his mouth. He gave me more. He always gave me more.
I gasped at all the sensations. His tongue stroked, his fingers slid deeper.
I listened to the obscene wet sounds of it all.
And then he rose behind me with terrifying grace, pressing his chest to my back.
One hand slipped up to wrap around my sternum while the other stayed low, his fingers coated in slick heat.
“That’s it, mo chridhe. Breathe. Take what you need.
” His fingers moved with aching precision.
He knew exactly how to dismantle me, one touch at a time.
Each stroke over my clit was slow, but deliberate, the kind of rhythm that wasn’t rushed because he wanted to feel every second of it.
I pushed back into his hand, greedy for more.
“Good girl. You take me so well,” he whispered into my neck, his breath hot, his mouth brushing the spot beneath my ear that made my spine flex. “Fucking perfect.”
I whimpered, my hips grinding instinctively as he slipped another finger inside, curling just enough to make stars dance at the edge of my vision. The glass in front of me steamed with every exhale, our reflection a blurred, a golden tangle of limbs and need.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he murmured, dragging his tongue down my throat, “thinking about how wet you were when we woke up this morning. And how you begged so pretty in the shower yesterday.”
“Callum—” I gasped.
“Aye. Say my name again.” His voice roughened. “Let the whole fucking country know who makes you feel this good.”
My legs went weak. He held me steady as he dragged me right to the edge. The sound of how wet I was filled the room, obscene and delicious, mixing with the soft slap of his fingers and the hitch of my breath.
“Fuck, Callum—” My voice broke. “I’m gonna—”
“That’s it,” he growled, gripping me tighter, thrusting his fingers in deeper. “Let go for me. Give it to me, baby.”
I came with a broken sob, legs shaking violently as the orgasm hit sharp and endless and overwhelming.
My forehead fell against the door again, the world fracturing into stars and static as I shattered.
The only thing tethering me was him. His arms, his mouth, his body heat.
He eased me through it, never letting go.
“That’s my girl,” he whispered. His chest pressed flush to my back. “My beautiful, perfect fiancée.”
I panted, still shivering when I felt him line up behind me. One of his hands gripped my jaw and tilted my face, just enough for me to see his reflection in the glass—cheeks flushed, eyes fucking feral.
“You’ll get more,” he growled, “You’ll take all of me.”
We dropped to our knees in sync, him behind me, my palms still braced against the glass.
The Aegean blue now was nothing but fog and gold and streaks of desperation.
His knees hit the marble with a low thud, thighs caging mine.
The head of his cock slid through the slick mess between my legs, a filthy tease that made my whole body jerk.
He grunted low when he pushed inside my pussy.
It was deep and fast, no warning, no apology.
I cried out, forehead thudding against the door again.
The stretch burned in the best way, hot and consuming and fucking perfect.
He didn't stop. Just drove in harder, hips slamming into mine with a brutal rhythm that made the glass shudder in its frame.
Our bodies were slick with sweat, heat pooling between us like we were the sun itself, all hot and seething and untouchable.
“Fuck, Auri,” Callum whimpered, guttural, barely more than breath and hunger. “So tight. So good. Always so good for me.”
He set a punishing pace, every thrust forcing a gasp from my lungs, my tits bouncing with each impact, the slap of skin on skin obscene in the otherwise quiet villa.
One hand gripped my hip hard enough to bruise while the other slid up my spine, wrapping around the back of my neck like a vow.
Holding me. Grounding me, the way he always did.
My hands stayed planted on the glass, fingers splayed wide, nails scraping faint lines into the surface.
“Callum.”
“That’s it, mo chridhe. Breathe. Take what you need. Good girl.”
He slammed into me, over and over, relentless and raw, until the pressure coiled again—sharp and blinding and right at the edge of unbearable. I was panting, moaning, crying out his name like it was salvation, like it was the only goddamn thing tethering me to earth.
And then he said it. “You’re the only thing I believe in.”
The words made me keen. I detonated once more. My whole body arched, every muscle locking up as that pressure finally combusted. Stars burst behind my eyes. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but come apart with his name on my lips and his cock still pounding into me.
“Fuck me through it, baby,” I begged, my voice cracking. “Please, mon dominant.”
And he did.
He fucked me through the aftershocks with ruthless devotion, every thrust angled to make me feel everything. My orgasm ripped through me like a tidal wave, raw and ragged and loud, my knees sliding against the tile as my whole body seized with pleasure.
“God, you’re perfect when you come,” he gritted out. “So fucking tight. So mine.”
His hips stuttered, then snapped forward with a final, brutal thrust, spilling into me with a groan that sounded like surrender. Like worship. His whole body shook behind me, his arms caging mine as he held us both upright, skin slick, chests heaving, hearts pounding in sync.
We stayed like that. Tangled and shaking, sweat-drenched,and suspended in the aftermath.
I blinked at our blurred reflection in the glass, breath fogging the door.
The sea stretched behind us like it was holding our secrets.
His breath was hot against my ear, his heartbeat thundering in my back.
He didn’t move right away. Just nuzzled the side of my neck and exhaled like he’d just survived a storm.
“I fucking love you,” he whispered.
I smiled through the wreckage, my lungs still catching up. “I love you too.”
Callum pressed a kiss to my shoulder and finally eased out, his hands soft now, reverent again as they swept down my sides.
“Scale?”
“Ten and green, mon amour.”
We were quiet for a beat. Still panting. Still flushed and glowing.
“D’accord, my love,” he said, voice hoarse and completely, stupidly in love. “Wanna go to a winery this afternoon?”