Chapter 31 #2
“Cal,” I said, my voice dropping with a faint smile. “You don’t get a drawer.”
His face fell instantly. “Right. I was just—”
“Baby, you get the closet,” I interrupted, pulling myself to be face to face with him, our noses nearly touching. “You get the whole side of the bedroom if you want it.”
He blinked, stunned. “What?”
“Why do you think I worked on that damn porch for so long?” I asked, the confession tumbling out of me before I could really stop it. “Why do you think I put in a double vanity when I redid the bathroom? Or why I knocked out the wall that made the kitchen feel so small?”
I gestured around the living room, the space I had agonized over for months.
“I remodeled this place because of a dream you and I shared,” I admitted, my voice cracking under the weight of it.
“Maybe I’m insane, but even then, when I was convinced you hated me, I was doing this all with that memory in the back of my mind.
This whole house… It’s always been for you, even if you never stepped foot in it. ”
Cal looked like I had just punched him in the chest. He looked around the room, really seeing it all for the first time, not as the house I grew up in and inherited, but as a shrine to a life I didn’t think I’d ever get to have.
“You really didn’t stop loving me,” he whispered.
“Never,” I said as I kissed his lips. “It was always going to be you. It’s only ever been you,” I confessed as I kissed the side of his neck.
He let out a shaky breath, his hands coming up to rest on either side of my face.
“Okay,” he breathed. “I’ll send some of my stuff down here.”
I smiled, my vision blurring slightly. “Send as much as you want.”
“But,” he added, his eyes narrowing playfully, trying to reign in some kind of ground. “If I’m going to be spending off time here, we are buying new cookware. Seriously, Si, you have one pan. One. It’s tragic. I can’t cook for you in these conditions.”
“Deal. You can buy all the pans you want. Just… come back here with me.” I laughed, the sound vibrating through my chest.
“I’m not going anywhere. Ever,” he promised.
He pulled my chin back to his lips and kissed me softly, a tender seal to the promise we just made.
We sat peacefully in the living room for the next hour.
I made a habit of trying not to move too much, but the fullness inside me was maddening.
Every minute that ticked by, the ache grew sharper, heavier.
Cal didn’t seem to mind the stillness, seemingly reveling in the ability to just hold me as tightly and as openly as he wanted. As I wanted.
When we finally made it back to the bedroom, I let him get ready for bed first, trying to play it off as I was scrolling on my phone, and not fixing to take our wholesome night of love confessions and turn it into pure pleasure.
When he came out and got into the bed, I hopped up, making my way to the bathroom.
I swiftly tugged off the sweatpants, exposing the red thong and the plug it was barely covering.
The black base pressed starkly against the red fabric.
Then, to add just a bit more to the sight, I pulled on the hoodie, my old one of Cal’s, the one that even now, almost ten years later, he still loved to do unholy things to me in.
And I fucking loved every goddamn minute of it.
I gave myself a onceover in the mirror. Even now, the hoodie was still a bit large on me, and it hung over my ass for the most part.
I kept the zipper open, letting it frame my torso.
Cal always loved planting kisses and bite marks across my abs when he had the chance, and I loved making sure he had access to do so.
The sensation of the plug was building as the anticipation did, the fullness of it rising to a nearly debilitating level. I was practically vibrating with need, my skin flushed, eyes bright with a dangerous kind of heat.
When I finally got the nerve to open the bathroom door, Cal was in bed, propped up against the headboard, playing some game on his phone with laser focus.
I walked out and crawled onto the bed on my hands and knees, the mattress dipping under my weight as I moved over him.
Cal looked up from his screen, a slow smile spreading across his face when he saw me hovering above him. He tossed his phone onto the nightstand without a second glance, his full attention shifting instantly to me. I straddled his lap, my knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips.
“Hi,” I whispered.
Cal’s hands slid under the cotton of the hoodie to my lower back, familiar and warm. He went to cup my ass, expecting to feel the soft cotton of the normal boxer briefs I always slept in.
His fingers met bare skin, and then the thin, taut strap of the thong.
He froze, his eyes blowing wide.
“Silas. What are you wearing?”
“Something I hope you’ll like.” I bit my lip.
Cal gripped the hoodie and yanked it up. He stared at the red fabric cutting against my naturally tan skin, the way it framed the curves he loved so much. “Fuck. Do you have any idea what you look like?”
“Turn around,” Cal ordered, his voice dropping to a gravelly growl that sent a shiver straight to my core. “Now.”
I scrambled around, facing his feet, and arched my back.
I reached back, bunching the black fabric of the hoodie in my fists and hiking it up to my waist, just above my ass.
Cal looked. He saw the thong. He saw the black flared base of the plug peeking out, glistening slightly under the dim bedroom light.
“Baby,” Cal choked out, the sound wrecked. “You’re plugged?”
“I wanted to be ready for you.”
Cal didn’t ask; he just hooked his finger around the base of the plug and toyed with it, wiggling it slightly. The movement sent a bolt of electricity straight through me. A gasp escaped my lips, desperate and loud. And then, he pulled it.
It slid out with a wet, suctioned sound that echoed in the quiet room, leaving me gaping and achingly empty.
“Jesus,” he breathed, his voice thick with lust. “Look at you. You’re gaping for me.”
He grabbed my hips and yanked me backward, flushing my ass against his chest. He leaned forward and buried his face in me, rimming me with a hunger that was absolutely feral.
His tongue dug into the space the plug had created, devouring me.
He’d never done this to me in this position before, with me on top of him like this.
But right now, fuck, I was seeing stars at the sensation.
Smack.
His hand came down hard on my right cheek, the sting blooming hot and fast.
“Ah!”
“You like that?” Cal growled against my skin, the vibration running through me. “You like prepping for me like that? Stretching yourself so you can take every inch?”
“Yes,” I sobbed, my hips rolling instinctively back against him. “Fuck, Cal. Use me. Please.”
Something in Cal snapped. He pushed me back down in line with his waist. His cock was so rigid beneath me now, hard as stone through his underwear. I let out a faint moan at the sensation, wanting nothing more than to feel skin on skin.
“Don’t move,” he commanded, his voice dark.
He pulled the thin red strap back over my sensitive, still gaping hole. The feeling of the fabric rubbing against the over-sensitized skin sent shockwaves through my body. I was aching for him, dripping for him, and he knew it.
Before my brain could process, I heard it, the clicks of his camera on his phone. I swung my head to look over my shoulder at him.
“Are you taking pictures right now?” I said with fake annoyance, though the thought of him capturing me like this, open, desperate, wearing his clothes, made my own cock ache in agony.
“Yes. Stop moving. I want to get the back of the jacket in the picture,” he said as he nudged my lower back with his hand, making me lean forward. “I want to remember exactly how much of a slut you are for me.”
Cal shifted underneath me, tugging his underwear down. Then I felt it, the heavy, hot smack of his cock resting against one of my cheeks.
“One more for the secrets folder,” he said with a devious edge to his voice.
“Aren’t they all for the—”
My thoughts were obliterated as he pulled the thong aside and thrust inside me in one powerful, brutal motion. He filled me completely, no resistance, just wet, heavy heat invading every corner of me. The stretch was immense, even after the plug. He felt different, alive, pulsing, real.
“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ!” The words came out like I was babbling, the feeling sending bursts of pleasure blinding me.
He grabbed my waist and hauled me backward, forcing me upright so I was sitting on his cock, impaled. “Take all of it,” he growled, slamming me down onto him until his hips met mine with a bruising force.
He didn’t let me settle. He kept his hands locked on my waist, snapping his hips upward with a violence that knocked the breath out of me.
We stayed there for what felt like an eternity, him driving deep and me riding it down, my thighs burning as I tried to keep the pace.
I looked down, watching the way the red thong strained against my skin with every thrust, it was overwhelming, the feeling of being completely possessed, of being filled so deep I could taste it.
“You take it so well,” Cal groaned, his hands bruising my hips. “You were made for this. Made to sit on my cock.”
After a few minutes of that relentless, impaling rhythm, Cal decided he was done letting me have any control.
He nudged me off of him, maneuvering my body exactly how he wanted.
He pinned my legs back until my knees were by my ears.
This angle was devastating. He was hitting so deep I felt it in my throat, a frantic, messy rhythm that made me feel like I was being torn apart and put back together all at once.
Then he flipped us again.
“Turn over,” Cal barked. “On your stomach.”