Chapter 132 Callum
callum
I’d gone a month without him, but I wasn’t built to idle. I was all throttle, no brakes, and the second he touched me, I came undone… more than either of us expected. –Aurelie
The chauffeur barely closed the car door behind us before Aurélie was on me.
Not a single word, just breath and frantic heat and hands fisting in my shirt as she hauled herself into my lap, straddling my thighs as if she couldn’t stand another second of not being touched.
Her flowers from earlier were abandoned on the seat beside us, crushed under the force of her body lunging toward mine.
I caught her easily—one arm hooked around her waist, the other sliding up her thigh like it had a fucking homing device. She was panting and shaking. Her panties were still soaked through, and her skirt bunched around her hips.
Exactly how I fucking wanted her: desperate and unraveling for me. Only me. Always.
“Callum,” she gasped, grinding down onto me like she was trying to fuse us together. “Please—”
The partition was up. It was just us.
I could’ve fucked her right here. God, I should have.
But I wanted more. I wanted to slow it down and feel everything.
I wanted her messy, trembling, begging. I'd been without her for twenty-six days and had missed her so goddamn much that I never wanted to take a second with her for granted ever again.
But mostly, I wanted her to know exactly how much I wanted her, craved her, needed her.
“Slow down,” I murmured, cupping her jaw and forcing her to meet my eyes.
Her breath hitched. “Don’t you dare tell me to slow down,” she snapped. “You left me starving for weeks—if anyone deserves to be desperate, it’s you.”
I chuckled darkly, brushing my thumb over her lower lip. “Oh, my love, you think I don’t know exactly how desperate you are? How wet you’ve been for me all night?”
She blinked, lips parting, confusion flickering through the haze of arousal, right before I slid my hand down, gripping her ass and dragging her against me.
My other hand slipped beneath her skirt, hooking a finger around her lace panties and searching until I found the thin black string.
Her eyes went wide when I tugged, the metal spheres slipping free, dripping wet and glistening in the low light.
I held them up between us. The sound of them clinking together made me smirk. “Look at this. You’ve been leaking down your thighs while I sat next to you like a saint.” I dropped them onto the seat next to us.
A wicked little grin curved her lips. “Saint? Please. You nearly groaned every time I crossed my legs. Some saint you are.”
I laughed under my breath, my smirk sharpening as I leaned in, mouth brushing her ear. “You noticed, did you? Good. Then you know exactly what kind of hell you’re in for.”
She bit down on her lip, glare sharp even as her thighs trembled. “What, you want a medal? Congratulations, Fraser, you survived dinner without fucking me under the table.”
A growl rumbled in my chest as I hooked my fingers in her panties, tugging them tight against her swollen clit until she gasped.
“Careful, mon c?ur. I could have this car turned around, march us back in there, and bend you over the fucking table.” I tipped my head toward her, my lips brushing hers.
“We can let the whole restaurant watch.”
Aurélie giggled. “You’re a naughty boy, Fraser.”
“Can’t help myself where you’re involved, Dubois.”
She whimpered, reaching for me, but I caught her chin in my hand. “No. You’re not done yet.” I paused when the car braked suddenly and I had to grip her tighter. “You started this, you finish it, properly. You’ve been teasing me all night, mon c?ur. Now be a good girl and give me what I want.”
She bit her bottom lip. “I’m trying—”
“Not good enough.” My voice dropped lower, darker and filthier. “You want me to let you come? Say it.”
“Callum, I—”
“No.” I pressed my thumb beneath her chin, tilting her head, brushing my lips across her cheekbone. “I want the full name of the champion you’ve been obsessed with for years. Say it like you mean it.”
She blinked at me, pupils dilated and face flushed and sweaty. “You’re serious?”
“Deadly.”
Her breath hitched. She rolled her hips once—slow and needy—and leaned into me, mouth grazing the shell of my ear.
“Callum James Fraser.”
Fuuuuck. My whole body shuddered.
“Again,” I growled, palming her ass under her skirt and dragging her closer until my cock pulsed against her. I needed her so fucking bad I could barely think straight.
How was I supposed to follow through on this punishment when all I could think about was being inside her?
“Callum. James. Fraser,” she whispered, as if she was giving herself over and my name was a confession and a command all at once.
I let out a low, broken sound. “That’s it. Good fucking girl. And you're all mine.”
Aurélie said my name again, reverent and so goddamn erotic. That’s when I reached into the front pocket of my suit jacket and pulled out a pocket square, black and pristine.
Her brows shot up. “Callum…” This time, my name was a warning.
“Open.” My voice left no room for argument.
She hesitated for only a heartbeat before obeying.
Her mouth fell open, her face flushed. I stuffed the cloth inside, filling her cheeks until her lips stretched around it.
“That’s right,” I rasped, cock twitching at the sight of her gagging softly on the silk.
“Hold it there. Don’t you dare drop it, or I’ll spank you until you can’t sit through qualifying. ”
She moaned around it, the sound muffled and obscene. Drool leaked down her chin, soaking the edge of the fabric. My whole body jolted at the sight.
And fuck, the thoughts hit me all at once—filthy and relentless.
What it would be like to tie her wrists behind her back and leave her like this, gagged and dripping, begging with her eyes.
To put her on her knees in front of me with that silk stuffed between her lips, my cock replacing it.
To leash her with it, demand she crawl to me, make her hold it in her teeth while I fucked her from behind.
It wasn’t just the gag. My mind spun darker, deeper.
I wanted her trussed up for me, wrists bound, legs spread wide, her perfect cunt bared and dripping, waiting.
I wanted leather kissing her skin, the sharp crack of a crop across her ass until she remembered who she belonged to.
I wanted to drag a flogger down her spine, make her count every lash, every stripe I left on her, until she sobbed my name through the gag.
Punishment, not for the brat I adored—but for the fear that still lived in her chest. For thinking she could ever shut me out, or worse, that I wouldn’t want her.
I’d whip every doubt from her, toy with her body until she was nothing but trust and wreckage, until surrender was all she had left to give me.
What gutted me most wasn’t the hunger. It was the truth.
I’d never thought like this before her. Never wanted silk stuffed between a woman’s lips, never needed to hear anyone beg through tears, never imagined binding someone down just to watch them fall apart for me.
But Aurélie cracked me wide open. She dragged something out of me I didn’t even know was there.
Some dark, desperate part of me that wanted every filthy inch of her submission.
Not to break her, but to prove no one could ever love her as ruinously as I did.
It was indecent. It was too much. But watching her drool around that fabric—my clean, polished, respectable pocket square—made my brain spiral into every filthy, taboo thing I’d ever wanted to do to her.
I lost whatever thread of control I had left. I dragged the lace aside, pressed two fingers into her, slow but deep. She cried out, the sound intoxicatingly muffled as she arched against me, her hands gripping my shoulders like she needed something to hold her down.
“I’ve got you, love,” I whispered, curling my fingers just right, still trying to shake the direction my thoughts had taken. “You’ve been so good for me. So fucking good. Let me take care of you now.”
She was shaking, every muscle in her body drawn tight. Desperate and barely holding it together.
“Come for me,” I breathed, my fingers working her harder, faster, curling deep. “I want to feel you break. I want to hear how pretty you sound when you fall apart for me.”
Her body locked up, her thighs shaking, her orgasm building sharp and high. And just as she was about to tip over the edge, I ripped the fabric from her mouth.
She screamed my name. “Callum James Fraser.”
“Look at me,” I said. Her eyes met mine, glazed and blown wide. Her lips parted. “Right here. You’re safe. You’re mine. You’ve earned this.”
And then she shattered. It rolled through her in waves, her body jerking against me, breath catching, curses and whimpers falling from her mouth in rapid-fire French I barely understood.
It didn’t matter. I held her through all of it. One arm wrapped tight around her waist, my other hand still working her slowly, helping her ride it out, coaxing every last flicker of pleasure from her.
But just as I thought she was coming down, her body seized again, tight and helpless.
Her thighs clamped tight around my hand, her hips bucked forward, and then a rush of wet heat poured over my fingers, soaking down my wrist. I felt it hit the sleeve of my dress shirt, then my forearm, my lap, my fucking stomach.
It was everywhere.
We both looked down at the same time.
There was a moment of absolute, stunned silence as we took in the mess—slick and glistening across the front of my shirt, soaking through the fabric of my trousers, dripping down the side of my wrist and pooling at the edge of the seat.
Her thighs were trembling, her panties pushed to the side of her pussy with me still knuckle-deep in her, the hem of her skirt riding high as the last of it slipped from her.
My brain short-circuited. She tried to close her legs and pull away, but I didn’t let her. I couldn’t, because the second I realized what had happened—what I’d just done to her, what she’d just given me—something inside me snapped.
A raw, animalistic sound tore from my throat.
There was a rush of heat through my bloodstream, and then I came right there in my fucking pants.
No warning, no build, just the sudden, brutal release that tore through me like fire, as if my body couldn’t take one more second of restraint.
I gritted my teeth as it hit—hot and wet, soaking through my briefs and spreading across the front of my already ruined trousers.
I looked down just in time to see a wet, dark patch blooming through the fabric of my pants in pulsing spurts, mixing with her mess. My cock wasn’t even out and I still couldn’t stop it. My whole body jerked with each wave. I was completely helpless and undone.
Her eyes went wide. “Mon Dieu,” she breathed.
I came harder, each pulse wringing more from me until there was nothing left. Her hand moved before she could stop it, reaching for the front of my ruined trousers, eyes huge and dazed. Her fingers hovered just above my dick, not quite touching it.
I folded her into me and dropped my forehead to her shoulder—ruining us both in every sense of the word.
I clung to her like she was the only real thing left, needing to feel her flush against me.
Trying to erase all the moments we’d spent apart, to eliminate any remaining space between us, to show her that I needed her.
My fingers never left her.
I held her there, still rocking her hips against me, slick and dripping, while my own orgasm raged like a storm. I buried my face in her neck, hips grinding once, twice, against nothing, against her, against the fucking air. I didn’t care. I was gone.
Utterly, absolutely wrecked.
When the shaking stopped, I exhaled a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding and lifted my head. Her lashes fluttered. Her lips were parted, pink and trembling, mascara smudged beneath her eyes.
She looked like sex and surrender and salvation.
And I had never, in my entire goddamn life, come harder.
“You didn’t even touch yourself."
I was panting, body still coming down from the aftershocks, my cock throbbing in my pants.
My fingers were still inside her, and when she clenched around them again, I choked on a breath.
Then I pulled my hand out and grabbed her jaw, soaked and all, and tipped her face to meet mine.
I could smell her perfect little cunt all over my fingers when I pulled her closer, lips brushing hers.
"You did that to me," I told her, voice ragged. "Now look at this mess we made. We're both soaked like we fucking belong together."
"We do."
Jesus fuck. No one should be allowed to love someone this much and survive it.
After a moment, Aurélie shifted and made a strangled sound, almost as if she was about to bolt. “Oh my God, Callum—”
“Don’t you dare apologize.” She blinked, eyes wide, cheeks flushed. Beautiful. Mine. “That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” I growled. “You’re perfect. Do you hear me? Perfect.”
She swallowed hard, lips parted. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Exactly.” My thumb stroked her jaw. “You couldn’t help it. That’s what made it so fucking real. Besides, look at what I did.”
Her eyes fluttered shut like she was trying to breathe through the shame, but I pressed a kiss to her cheekbone and held her tighter, soaking wet lap be damned. She collapsed against my chest, panting.
“Mon Dieu…” she whispered, still trembling. “Je t’aime. Je t’aime tellement. Tu ne sais pas combien tu m’as manqué. J’ai cru que j’allais te perdre—”
I stroked her back gently. Pressed my lips to her temple.
Just let her talk in her native tongue. She buried her face in my neck and kept whispering.
So soft, so raw, so vulnerable. I didn’t interrupt, didn’t ask her to translate what I already understood.
I listened to the language I fell in love with—not because it was French, but because it belonged to her.
I love you. I love you so much. You don't know how much I missed you. I thought I was going to lose you.
Every word from her mouth was sacred. And I’d take all of them. Every last one.
When the car slowed in front of the hotel, I just glanced down at the soaked fabric across my stomach and lap and sighed. Yep, I was about to get out covered in my girlfriend's orgasm—okay, mine too—like it was a fucking war medal.
I'd earned that as much as she had. No shame in hiding it.
“Guess I’m walking in like this.”