Chapter 22 #2
“Okay,” Cal whispered as he unlocked the hotel room door. “She said she was going to shower and relax. I saw her room service cart outside. We should have an hour before she gets bored and wants company.”
We stumbled inside, abandoning logic and bags at the door. Cal pushed me onto the bed and crawled over me, his weight heavy and grounding.
“I need you,” he groaned as he bit my neck hard enough I knew there’d be a mark later. “God, I fucking need to be inside of you.”
My hands were already tugging at his jeans, fumbling with the button. I was hungry. It had been seven fucking years. Sure, I got to fuck Cal last night, but him, fucking me? That was entirely different. That was all I wanted, and I was fucking dying waiting for it.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
We froze. We looked to each other with wide, panicked eyes.
“Cal? Are you in there? My Netflix isn’t working! Can I use yours?”
Lena. Of course it was.
Cal collapsed onto my chest, letting out a long, defeated groan that vibrated through my ribs.
“I hate everything,” he mumbled into my neck. “Have I mentioned that before?”
He rolled off, standing up and adjusting his pants to hide the very obvious hard-on. I watched him switch modes instantly. The lust vanished, replaced by a patient, protective energy. It was total “Dad mode.”
And fuck, I think I found that sexy too.
He opened the door casually, like he wasn’t just seconds away from fucking me into the mattress without a second thought or regard for anything.
“Hey kid,” Cal said, leaning against the door frame to block her view of the disheveled bed. I quickly sat down in the small chair near the loveseat, attempting to seem casual. “You can use mine, if you want to.”
“I tried to watch that old wrestling documentary Evan likes, but it was so boring! Can we watch something together instead? We haven’t caught up on The Summer I Turned Pretty yet!”
She said it with the enthusiasm of someone far younger.
Even though Lena was twenty-one and wrestled like a seasoned vet in the ring, her heart still seemed to be that of a teenage girl.
It made me understand why Cal was so protective of her.
Because honestly, I probably would shred any of those pricks in the locker room if they tried to fuck with her.
I adjusted myself, trying my hardest to seem casual and hide the fact I was still semi hard from Cal.
“Si!” Lena waved and barged in. She sat on the side of the couch closest to me. “Perfect! You can start watching it with us! It’s so good! You gotta pick a team though. I love Jeremiah. Conrad reminds me too much of Cal.”
Cal looked at me. I looked at him. The moment was dead. And I guess we were now having a binge watch night with his adopted daughter.
The frustration was building to the point of a physical fucking ache. It was a constant thrumming in my veins.
It had been three days. Three fucking days since Lena showed up wanting to watch some random ass show with us. I didn’t mind her company, she was great. but fuck, I really just wanted to get Cal alone again.
We were in a rental car, driving from Cleveland to Columbus. Lena was asleep in the backseat, her headphones on, totally dead to the world.
Cal’s hand had drifted from the gearshift to my thigh. His thumb rubbed slow, deliberate circles against the denim, creeping higher. Dangerously close to my cock, which was already trying to twitch with excitement in the tight confines of the jeans.
I stared out the window at the passing highway, biting my lip, trying not to make a sound. It was agony.
We stopped at a rest area. Lena woke up groggily and ran inside for drinks, snacks, and a bathroom break.
“I’ll meet you inside,” I told her.
I followed Cal toward the men’s bathrooms. But instead of going inside the main restroom, he trapped my arm and pulled me toward an accessible bathroom with a locking door.
We ducked into it quickly. He didn’t speak. He pushed me against the concrete block wall and kissed me, hard, wet, and messy.
Usually, he was the one in control. But the frustration snapped something in me. I couldn’t take the teasing anymore.
I grabbed his wrist and guided his hand down. I pressed his palm firmly against the growing bulge in my jeans.
“Touch me,” I ordered, my voice rough.
Cal’s eyes widened slightly, surprised by the command. I never took charge like this. And clearly, it turned him on.
He grinned, dark and wicked. He unzipped me, slipping his warm hand inside my boxers. He worked me fast and hard, his other hand covering my mouth to stifle my moans. It was risky. Anyone could walk by.
“You want me so bad, don’t you?” Cal taunted, his breath hot against my ear. “You want me to fuck you? I bet you’d let me right here, wouldn’t you? Up against this dirty sink?”
“Fuck, Cal,” I gasped, hips bucking into his hand.
“Tell me what you want, baby,” he said low.
“I—I want you to fuck me,” I stammered, my head falling back against the tiles. “I want you inside of me, please.”
“Mm,” Cal hummed, not stopping the rhythm of his hand. “You’ve made me wait seven years, Si. I think you can survive until we get to a hotel.”
I came with a muffled cry into his hand, my knees buckling, shuddering against him.
He cleaned us up quickly, kissed my forehead, and walked out like nothing happened.
A few hours later, we were at the airport, waiting to board a flight to New York for a connection.
My phone buzzed.
I can’t get the image of you cumming on my hand out of my mind.
I looked across from me. Cal was in a seat, staring at his phone, totally unphased by the message he just sent.
You’re terrible.
I’m starved. It’s been days, Si. I want you. I want to fuck you until you’re crying and screaming my name like you used to.
Soon. And you can do whatever you want. However you want.
Anything?
Anything. No limit, whatever you want.
Send me something. I need something to kill time.
My heart skipped a beat. We had never done this. Not really anyways.
I got up and went to the single stall bathroom.
Fuck, was I seriously going to do this?
I checked the door twenty times to make sure it had locked. This felt wrong, too public, too risky, but god, I was turned on at the idea of it.
I propped my phone on the sink. I started filming myself.
I just wanted the end clip. The one I knew would send Cal into overdrive. I leaned against the wall of the bathroom, my pants undone. My hand moved fast. My face was flushed, sweat beading on my hairline. I bit my knuckle to keep quiet, and I stayed quieter as I spilled over my own hand.
I stopped the video. I hit send before I could panic.
I washed up and walked out, taking my seat across from Cal again. Lena was sitting in the seat next to me, talking Cal’s ear off about something, I didn’t even know what.
Cal opened the video.
He went still. His grip tightened on the phone until his knuckles turned white. He watched the whole thing. I know he did. Right there, in the middle of the terminal, with no fucking shame.
Jesus.
He looked up at me. His pupils were blown, black swallowing the hazel. He looked feral. Like he wanted to drag me into the cargo hold right now.
My phone buzzed again.
I’m going to fucking ruin you, baby. For anyone else. Just wait.