Chapter 182 Callum #3
Her feet planted wider apart—subtle resistance, a brat’s defiance. I could practically hear her smirk.
“Are you foregoing a safeword?” I asked.
She didn’t answer, but her back arched sensually, and her hands slid up the hood, as if to brace herself.
So I fucking spanked her.
Once, then twice, cruelly with an open palm. She jolted forward with a gasp, but the sound that followed wrecked me.
“Harder,” she snapped.
My cock twitched violently in my jeans.
“You wanna act like a fucking brat?” I hissed, dragging my hand down to grip her ass. “Then you’ll get treated like one.”
I landed another slap. And another. Each one was harder, meaner. Her hips bucked forward and she let out a broken, furious, moan that dripped with need.
“Is that all you’ve got, Fraser?” she bit out, head turned, eyes gleaming at me from over her shoulder.
I grabbed her by the hair and yanked her up just enough to growl in her ear, “Careful, baby. You really wanna test the man who’s seconds away from desecrating you on the hood of his car? Because I will drag this out.”
“Fucking do it,” she spat.
I shoved her back down with a hand on her nape. Her breath came fast. Her body writhed. Her thighs tried to clench together, but I shoved a leg between them so she couldn’t pleasure herself.
Steam curled around us, the heat from the hood blooming in ghostly clouds as the rain kissed its surface. The storm rolled overhead—rumbling, wild, divine—and I was right there with it.
The headlights beamed through the downpour, turning every droplet into gold. Shadows danced across her back, flickering like firelight, casting her body in haloes and hunger. She looked like sin caught in heaven’s crosshairs. And I was the bastard who’d die to worship her there.
I pressed my hips flush to her ass, grinding just enough to feel her shudder, to remind her who had the power. Only, I didn’t give her what she wanted yet.
This was control. This was what it meant to push and pull. To demand and surrender. To hurt and hold.
“I gave you everything last night, too, Auri,” I rasped. “Let you see a side of me I didn’t even know existed.”
Her fingers clawed at the hood. “And now you’re scared of it.”
“No,” I snapped. “I’m fucking addicted to it. To you.” A pause. My lips met the back of her neck. “To owning you.”
She whimpered. A real one that was deep and guttural.
“And if you’re not ready to be handled like something precious and feral at once,” I said, “then tell me now.”
She didn’t.
“Then be a good boy and claim me.”
“With every goddamn piece of me,” I rasped, gripping her tighter, “even the ones you think you don’t want.”
The rain hit the roof in uneven sheets, loud enough to drown the world, but not loud enough to drown us.
We were louder.
“Do you think this fixes it?” she barked, voice raw.
“I don’t give a fuck if it fixes it,” I growled, shoving the hem of her soaked black dress up over her ass, exposing the curve of her thighs. “We’re not done.”
“We’re never done,” she snapped back, hips pushing back toward me.
“Then stop running.”
“Then stop talking,” she hissed. “You already said enough.”
I thumbed the tattoo at the small of her back. My mark, my obsession. “This still mine?”
She didn’t answer, so I spanked her again.
Her voice cracked. “Fucking yes.”
“Louder.”
“YES, Sir.”
I growled and yanked her thong to the side like it offended me she’d worn anything at all. The headlights caught the glint of arousal between her thighs, the tender flutter of her rim, the wet, desperate glistening of her cunt.
Mine.
My cock pulsed, painfully hard, blood rushing so loud I could barely hear the rain. I was dizzy with it. Blinded by it. Drunk on the heat of her skin and the scent of her arousal and the way her body bowed like prey daring the predator to pounce.
She braced herself. I palmed her ass, wide and perfect under my grip, my thumb pressing into the bruised dip just beneath her cheek. She was shaking, but not from fear. No—this was a needy sort of madness.
And I fucking hovered there—still outside her, every muscle in my body screaming to take. To consume.
“I’m gonna split you open,” I warned, “and you’re gonna thank me for it.
” She whimpered, high-pitched and wrecked, thighs trembling against mine.
I unzipped my dress pants with one hand, the sound lost to the storm, and freed my cock—heavy, flushed, leaking, aching for her.
The cool air met the heat of me, and I grunted through my teeth.
“You gonna keep running that bratty fucking mouth?”
I lined myself up, thick and straining, head already dripping with her arousal as I dragged the tip through her folds. Slow and punishing in preparation.
Her laugh was deranged. “Only if you don’t fuck me like you mean it.”
I snapped, my vision tunneling. All I saw was her. All I heard was the sound of her heavy breathing and the blood in my ears and her voice echoing in every lifetime I’d ever lived without her. I drove into her with a savage thrust. No warning, no mercy, all devotion and instinct.
She screamed.
Her palms slammed the hood, nails screeching against the metal like she was trying to claw herself back from oblivion.
“Fuck, Cal—harder—”
I slammed into her again. And again. And again. My body was a machine. My heart was an altar. My rage was a fucking hymn. Each thrust was brutal, punishing, built on the desperate need to feel her. My head dropped back, rain cooling my feverish skin.
There was no concept of where we were, who could see us, what rules we were breaking. The world had narrowed to this, to rain and skin and the sound of her moans caught between thunderclaps. Two wild things fucking to survive.
“You don’t get to tell me how to love you,” I snarled, one hand gripping the back of her neck, pressing her face down into the hood. “But you will fucking feel it.”
I leaned over her while I ruined her from behind.
“This is how I fucking love you, Aurélie. With everything I’ve got.
With every last broken piece of me.” I bit her shoulder, relishing in the feel of wet fabric and flesh between my teeth.
“With my cock. With my fists. With my name on your goddamn tongue.”
Her walls clamped down around me, and the edges of my vision darkened.
“Harder—”
“You’ll get what I give you,” I growled, pounding deeper, harder, faster.
So I did.
Rough. Fast. Borderline savage. The sound of slick skin and rain and ragged breaths cutting through the storm.
“More,” she sobbed.
Our rhythm turned frantic, almost violent. The slap of wet skin against wet skin. The storm screaming above us. Her moans were gasps now. Our bodies trembled. And I chased her over that edge like a fucking animal—no logic, no need, just the need to break her open and crawl inside.
She shattered, screamed, tore the fucking sky in half, and I followed the way I always would. I groaned her name like a curse and a prayer and like it was the only thing that had ever mattered. All at once.
I spilled inside her, hips jerking, chest heaving, lips on her neck.
A storm within the storm.
I didn’t move. I was still buried deep, pulsing inside her, my hand planted firmly on the nape of her neck, the other gripping her hip like she might vanish if I let go. Rain hissed off the hood like applause, steam rising between our bodies.
“Still mad at me?” I rasped, voice shredded.
She gave a laugh so wrecked it cracked something open in me.
“Fucking livid.”
Good. That made two of us.
I pulled out slow—just to hear her whimper. She was already trembling. Her thighs quivered.
I dragged her up with both hands, chest to her back now, whispering in her ear with venom-soft tenderness.
“Then you just need to tell me. Scream it. Say it. I don’t care. Hate me, baby. Bite me. Scratch me. Fucking bleed me if you need to—but don’t walk away from me.”
Her breath caught.
I spun her around, hands locked on her waist. She blinked up at me, rain running down her cheeks, wet hair tangled in her lashes. Her lip was split—bitten, not bloodied—and her lipstick had long since vanished, but she’d never looked more goddamn divine.
“I love you,” she whispered. “Even when I hate you.”
“Good.” I crashed my mouth to hers like I could inhale the fight from her lungs.
She kissed me back harder. Sloppier. Our teeth clashed. Her nails tore at my shirt, digging into the chest that ached only for her.
When we broke apart, both of us panting, she shoved at me weakly. “This doesn’t change anything.”
“No,” I agreed, dragging my knuckles over her jaw. “But it proves one thing.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“You don’t want easy,” I said, voice low. “You want me. This fucked-up, unhinged, control-freak version who’d ruin the whole world to make you feel everything.”
She went still.
I stepped closer, brushing my nose against hers. “And you’ll never have to doubt if I can handle your fire. You were made for war, Aurélie. And I’m the one who burns with you.”
We loved each other so much, we just fell harder when our ugly sides showed.
She trembled again. I licked her bottom lip.
“You want to keep fighting?”
Slowly, she shook her head. I kissed her throat, the underside of her jaw, the corner of her mouth.
“Good. Then get back in the car and finish telling me every goddamn thing I did wrong. I’ll take it.”
She blinked. “You will?”
“Every word,” I promised.
And when I glanced down to tuck myself back together, I froze.
There was blood.
All. Over. Me.