Chapter 5 #2
Because Cranky huffs from the floor. Because one of the beagles kicks in their sleep. Because the air between us is suddenly full of heat and possibility and something more than lust.
We pull apart just enough to breathe. Callum’s forehead rests against mine, his fingers still tangled in my hair, the other gently handling my dick. My hands are firm on his hips, anchoring him there.
“You’re dangerous,” he whispers, smiling even as his voice shakes.
“Maybe for the first time ever,” I reply, brushing my thumb across the curve of his hip, grounding us both.
The air is still thick, humming with want. But beneath it—steady and strong—is that same thread of connection we’ve had since day one. We stay like that for a moment—his breath still heavy against mine, hands firm on my chest, straddling my lap like he was made to fit there.
Then his mouth brushes the edge of my jaw, soft and lingering, and I feel his hand trail from my shoulder and down my chest, slow and sure, while the pad of his thumb once more swipes against the head of my dick.
I shudder, murmuring, “Come with me,” my voice low, rough with everything I’m feeling.
Callum lifts his head, eyes locked on mine, and nods.
We move quietly through the house, past the snoring beagles, down the hallway where the light softens and everything feels a little more private, a little more like a world only we exist in.
Inside the spare bedroom, I flick on the lamp beside the bed.
Warm amber light fills the space as we face each other again.
He steps in, close, one hand trailing down my arm, the other pressing lightly against my chest. I let him guide me backward until the backs of my knees meet the mattress. And when I sit, he follows me down—not onto my lap this time, but to the floor.
He kneels between my legs, his hands running up the inside of my thighs, eyes dark and steady as they meet mine.
I reach out, touch his cheek, then brush my fingers through his curls. “Callum….”
“I want to,” he says softly, lips brushing against the edge of my knee. “Let me.”
The weight of it—all of it—is right there. It’s not just lust, though it’s certainly that too. It’s trust. Connection. The way he looks up at me like I’m something he wants to take his time with. Like this is just as much about giving as it is about having.
I sink my fingers into his hair, my breath already faltering as he leans forward, reverent and focused, and I lift up as we both pull down my jeans.
As he draws them off my legs, taking my socks with them, I pull off my shirt, which leaves me fully naked while he smiles up at me, completely clothed.
Heat flushes through me. I love being in this vulnerable position a little too much. Being taken care of, comforted, devoured, is hands down the best thing ever. Realizing that I’ve rarely had someone fully take care of me before makes my breath hitch.
I want to be looked after. Want to be manhandled despite my size and weight. And sure, while Callum might not be able to physically pick me up and toss me around, I have a feeling I won’t need him to.
His mouth finds the inside of my thigh, the gentlest graze of lips and breath that sends a shiver darting up my spine.
He doesn’t rush. Every movement is deliberate, as though he’s memorizing me in pieces, worshipping instead of consuming.
My fingers tighten slightly in his hair, not to guide, just to feel him there—anchored.
There’s a pause, a moment suspended between us, where our eyes meet and neither of us speaks. It’s more than anticipation. It’s the quiet kind of surrender that doesn’t feel like giving up but giving in—to someone who has earned it.
“You’re sure?” he murmurs, and the way he asks is its own kind of devotion.
I nod, but he waits for my voice. “Yes,” I whisper. “I want you to.”
And he does—slowly, carefully, like he’s writing something sacred into the skin he touches. Every breath, every look, says what words can’t. That I’m safe. That I’m seen. That I’m wanted—not just now, but in a way that lingers.
“Relax,” Callum says softly, and I huff out a laugh—I couldn’t be any tenser if I tried.
But then he leans in and presses an open-mouthed kiss against the inside of my groin, so close to my dick that I’m half expecting it to smack him in the face.
When Callum finally takes me into his mouth, there’s a slow, deliberate drag of tongue and lips that has me fisting his shirt and throwing my head back.
My breath catches somewhere between a gasp and a prayer.
“Fuck,” I whisper, my voice rough with disbelief.
In answer, Callum hums low, the sound vibrating all the way through me. And then he looks up—lips slick, eyes dark and full of intention. The image scatters my thoughts, my brain misfiring at just how fucking perfect he looks with his mouth stuffed full of my cock.
The heat builds when he takes me deeper, head bobbing, cheeks hollowing.
It’s molten, dizzying. My thighs tremble, nerves firing in a scattershot of sensation as Callum works me over with a dedication that feels both devastating and holy.
Each flick of his tongue, each stroke of his fingers against my hips undoes me further and brings me closer to begging him to be mine and never stop.
“Callum—” I choke out, but the rest of the sentence never makes it past my lips.
The rhythm changes. Grows messier, more urgent.
Callum’s fingers dig into my hips, keeping me steady as I have no choice but to give in to the rush of my orgasm.
It crashes through me with the speed of a gale force wind and the intensity of a tornado.
A strangled moan spills from me along with my cum.
Callum doesn’t flinch. He takes it all like he’s never wanted anything more as he gently strokes my balls, creating a fresh wave of shudders that tears through my limbs.
When I can breathe again and the room stops spinning, I look down. Callum is watching me with a small, self-satisfied smile—soft and smug, equal parts affection and pride. And fuck, I could get used to seeing this expression on his face every damn day.
“That was….” I gesture weakly, still breathless. “Fuck, you destroyed me.”
Callum stands slowly, brushing his fingers down my cheek. And hell if I don’t nuzzle against him like a damn cat craving affection. “You say that like you didn’t love every second of it.”
I grin, catching his wrist. “Every damn second.” I turn my head and place a kiss against his palm. “Now come here so I can show you just how much I loved it.”