15. Liv
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
LIV
I t’s past two in the morning by the time I stumble into my room, giggling for no reason and finding the floor particularly uneven.
The girls might be a year or two younger than me, but they can drink me under the table. I know better than to do shots with my sister ever again.
I’m only just conscious enough to remember to take a bottle of water from my mini fridge and put it on my bedside table. I throw my leather clutch on there too, as I have the painkillers I will no doubt need in a few hours.
All in all, it was a lovely evening. We drank, we danced, we drank some more and danced until my feet were sore, despite the block heels of my ankle boots. Some guys tried to cut in, but the girls never let them interfere for long, cutting the flirting down to a minimum. Apparently, that’s something Grace’s friends are known for on girls’ night out.
Bella’s fiancé was at the club, along with a bunch of his friends, but while they left together, they all stuck to their side booth.
I really like those girls. I hope I’ll get invited again.
I drop down on my bed, back against the mattress, closing my eyes, because the world is spinning a little too fast. I can feel myself drifting off into the deepest slumber, and then there’s nothing.
I have never felt better in my entire life. Pleasure rolls over me in waves, starting in my wet center, and traveling everything along my skin. So, that’s a wet dream. Except I’m not truly dreaming. There’s only darkness around me.
The first thing I consciously notice is the steady, high-pitched squeak of metal rasping against the wooden flooring. It pulls me away from the sumptuousdelights of sleep. But then there are other things. Wet noises, grunts, the stench of sex hitting my nostrils.
And friction, right there, between my legs. The weight of a body moving over me, inside me.
My body’s still languorous after the copious amount of alcohol I’ve ingested, but I will myself to blink.
I can barely see a thing, and yet there’s no denying who’s currently screwing me within an inch of my life.
I want to scream at him, but I’m panting too hard to manage a word.
I try to move my hands, but firm, unyielding binds keep them in place. Too bad. I would have slapped his treacherous face.
“Awake, huh? What a shame. I was having such a good time.”
The intruder fucking me lifts my legs over my head and sinks in harshly, deeper, with a visceral groan.
“You know it could have been anyone ? You left your fucking door open, love. Did you want to get fucked in your sleep by a perfect stranger?” Callum punctuates the last few words with punishing thrusts, making my poor single bed scream, and slam the back wall. “I think that slutty pussy of yours did. You’re so drenched.”
“Fuck you!” I manage to scream.
“I am fucking you, and you’re taking my cock so well, aren’t you? You truly are the perfect little fuck doll, even in your sleep. Especially in your sleep.”
I strain against the cuffs, wanting to wrap my fingers around his throat and squeeze, but the metal just bites my wrists, so instead I flail my legs to try to kick his damn face.
The asshole laughs. He has the fucking gall to laugh , while grabbing my ankles, and pinning them to the mattress, spreading me wider.
“Go back to your fucking girlfriend and leave me alone!” I demand.
It’s highly depressing that although I’ve decided to never do this again, my body is completely betraying me, drenched and hot and clenching, taking everything he’s giving me, begging for more.
“If I’d known all it would take to get your attention was parading Camilla, I would have done it much sooner.”
“I don’t give a single fuck about your girlfriend.”
Callum grinds in and out of me with that maddening smirk. “Right. This is quite obviously you, not giving a fuck.”
I know I can’t get to him, but that doesn’t stop me from wrenching the restraint as hard as I can, writhing away from him, struggling to get up, to move.
His rock-hard body’s hold on me is completely unbreakable, and my futile attempts only seem to stimulate him. His gray eyes bright with indisputable hunger, he plows in and out of me, until neither of us can manage another word. There’s nothing but the friction, the heat, the bestial need to come around his cock.
I’m not even ashamed of the fact that I’m no longer fighting when he lets go of my leg and brings his hand to the apex of my thighs, parting my pussy lips and bringing his thumb right to my clit, rubbing it in fast circles, then slapping the raw flesh.
His free hand cups my breast, as he leans in and brings his mouth to the other nipple, sucking it between his lips as his cock drives me fucking insane with need.
My pussy grips his cock so hard, and I sob as I explode around him. Callum’s cock engorges and slams deeper than ever one last time before he loses it inside me.
I wish I could say I immediately start to scream at him, telling him to leave me the fuck alone, threatening to report him, but for the next minute—or the next hour—all I can do is learn to breathe again.
Callum’s no better; he slumps on top of me, likely because there’s no room in the small bed anywhere else, heart pumping. He would have crushed me if he wasn’t supporting some of his weight on his elbows.
“I fucking hate you,” I finally manage to wheeze.
The jerk chuckles again, shifting to stare right at me.
He’s in my reach now, so I bring my hand to his shoulder and rake my nails along his arm, leaving angry red marks in the dim light.
That’s deeply satisfying to me. Better than any slap would have been.
His girlfriend will see it. She’ll see it and she’ll know some girl touched him. That’s as close to payback as I can give him.
Except Callum mustn’t have realized that, because he only smiles wider. “Careful now, love.”
His voice is thoroughly entertained.
Asshole.
“Scared your girlfriend will see my scratches on you?” I taunt, in case he didn’t get the memo.
He’s a man, after all.
Callum shakes his head, chuckling again. “You are so incredibly jealous. Don’t worry, though. I think it’s sweet.”
I frown, trying to understand why he doesn’t seem to care one iota.
Maybe they have an open relationship. After all, Grace said they had dated other people. But the whole scene with the parents said otherwise.
“I’m not jealous.”
Not. One. Bit.
“Aren’t you now?” Callum sits up a little, hovering over me, hands either side of my face. He lowers his mouth to my cheek, and then the other, before bringing it to my ear.
I’m going to stop him.
Anytime now.
“But if you insist on marking me, I might just do the same to you.”
“You wouldn’t ,” I snap.
His chest rumbles with amusement, as his mouth travels down to my neck, lips sucking on my skin, softly at first, then deeper, harder.
Shit .
“Are you giving me bloody hickeys? Who even does that?”
It only occurs to me now that my hands are still firmly locked. I’m right back to trying the cuffs, but they’re just as unyielding as they were on round one.
“Callum!”
He gets to a spot between my neck and shoulder and fucking inhales me like a vampire.
I make a mental note to never tell him he can’t do something.
“Cal!”
His hand slides between my legs, although it’s disgustingly slick with various body fluids, three fingers sliding inside me.
“You’re not going to fuck me again!”
So much for not ordering him around.
“Aren’t I?”
“I will scream !” I promise.
“Is that a promise?” the asshole has the gall to breathe against my nipple, before sucking those, too.
He takes his time, while his fingers never stop exploring, teasing, curving inside me.
His mouth progresses slowly down my body, and by the time he’s made it to the inside of my thighs, I’m a fucking mess, clamping my mouth shut to stop myself from begging for relief from the onslaught.
Then I just can’t help it. “Please!”
“Please what, my lovely little doll?”
“Please let me come,” I whimper.
“Oh? And why should I? It’s not like you’ve been a very good girl for me tonight.”
I hate him, I hate him, I hate him.
But I know, without a single doubt, that if I tell him as much, his response will be more teasing, when I need to fucking come. Now .
“Please. I’ll do anything.”
I hate how fucking desperate I sound.
“Anything, huh?”
“Yes.” Anything he asks of me anyway, which happens to lead to more orgasms.
“Tell me how jealous you were tonight.”
But that.
Anything but that.
I tug my restraints.
“Tell me you marked me because you want to prove to Camilla, to the world, that I’m yours, my possessive little doll. Tell me you’re mine .”
“Fuck you!” I scream.
He chuckles, and to my utter shock…he gets to his feet. “Yeah. Thought as much.”
Callum grabs something from his pocket; because of course he’s not even undressed, having only lowered his pants to his hips. I see a flash of silver, then he’s unlocking my hands.
“Seriously, though. You have to be more careful. It could have been anyone. I get being drunk, but if you’re not capable of locking a door behind you at night, I’m going to have to take measures you won’t like to see to your safety.”
He’s saying a lot of words, none of which make a lick of sense for me.
“Wait; I actually left the door open behind me?”
“Yep. Not that I’m complaining. I did have a wonderful feast.”
What few brain cells I have left see fit to engage. “You’re so fucking twisted for fucking me while I was asleep.”
The unabashed jerk shrugs. “Twisted is all you get with me. Good night, love.”
And then, though my pussy’s pulsing, the skin on fire, and I literally begged him for sex, he’s gone.