Chapter 194 Aurélie （Her Ending）
aurélie (her ending)
Love isn’t enough of a word for what she is to me. –Callum
The private hangar smelled like jet fuel and money. Looked like it, too, as I pulled my Alpine in and parked, climbing out and handing my keys to whoever Callum was paying to handle things while we were away for the next few weeks.
Callum was already there, standing at the foot of the stairs to his private jet. He was talking on the phone, eyes trailing me as I spoke to his staff, indicating my bags were in the trunk.
But my attention was on Callum, who looked insufferably casual. His sunglasses were pushed up into his messy, freshly trimmed hair, his ivory linen shirt was unbuttoned just enough to be distracting—and the linen trousers he wore made his ass look fantastic.
I stood there gawking at him, totally eye-fucking him until he turned at the sound of me closing my car door.
He held a to-go cup in one hand, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Yeah, he totally caught me.
Whatever. I had come prepared.
He probably expected travel clothes. A hoodie and leggings. Something easy and comfortable for the flight.
But no. I was going to Greece, so I was going to dress like it. I flounced in wearing a little sundress. It was white, with thin straps and a flowy little skirt that moved when I walked.
And it was backless.
It was exactly the article of clothing that would make him feral, which was the entire point in me wearing it.
After what we’d gone through… we needed time to have fun again.
Time for skin and surrender, for teasing and eye contact and kinky, devotional sex that reminded us we were still ours.
I was craving that vulnerability and intimacy so bad it hurt.
This vacation would be our reset. We booked a private villa tucked into the cliffs of Milos, just the two of us and nearly three weeks of sun, silence, and no interruptions.
We timed it so we’d arrive at our villa in time for dinner—one Callum had arranged on the beach, just past golden hour.
He didn’t tell me what was on the menu. Said I’d be too distracted anyway. Said I’d be dessert.
The moment his eyes raked over me, he ended his call, and I knew he was right. He would absolutely devour me, and I wasn’t sure I’d survive it. Not with the way his throat bobbed. The hold on his cup? Death grip.
I came to a stop in front of him, then slowly spun in a circle so he could see the back. When I completed my turn, I was certain I’d never seen him look so speechless before. I smirked, stepping closer, dragging a single finger down his chest. "Something wrong, Fraser?"
His voice was hoarse. "You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?"
"I have no idea what you’re talking about." Like the absolute menace I was.
“Aurélie.”
“That’s my name, mon champion. Don’t wear it out.” I winked at him and stepped around him to climb the steps, listening to him groan something about having a weakness for some stubborn French woman.
I grinned. Because he did. Because I knew him, and he knew me, and after everything we’d been through, it was still this easy—this magnetic, this good. I loved him so much it scared me. And I was finally ready to let that show.
Okay, maybe my plan was backfiring.
I’d spent a solid fifteen minutes debating whether or not I should wear panties. Thought it would be fun to mess with Callum while up in the air.
Except I had four hours to deal with my decision, and every time my thighs parted even a little bit, cool air would hit my pussy and my oversensitive skin, reminding me of my decision.
My very poorly executed decision that Callum had no idea about.
I was restless, pretending to read a romance book that should have been distracting me from my predicament, but here I was flipping through pages I wasn’t actually absorbing.
Every time I shifted in my seat, the hem of my dress rode up just a little, and I was not far from exposing myself to him or the stewardess as a result.
And Callum? Okay, he was in equal hell with me. The vein in his temple pulsing, hands clenched into fists on his thighs, staring straight ahead like he was in battle mode.
Breathe.
Yes, his reaction was hot as hell, but now the light turbulence had friction from my thighs gritting my teeth. My thighs, now slick with my arousal.
I’d really fucked myself over here.
Okay, think, Dubois. What could I do about this?
I could get up and go to the bathroom. Finish myself off so I could keep teasing him.
Then spend the next four hours just drinking champagne and having a good time.
I mean, he was the one who told me we’d have to wait until we got to Greece, so really, this was his fault.
All for some silly little punishment, because I told him he wasn’t allowed to bite or mark me on this trip, seeing as I was going to be in minimal clothing.
Being a brat was fun until it turned into a form of torture.
Okay, fuck it, it was my fault, too. He just didn’t know how difficult it was to hold myself together right now. My skin felt warm, and when I glanced down to see how hard he was, my head fell back against the seat. We were both suffering in silence.
I snapped my book shut, tossing it on the seat across from me and lifting my hair off the nape of my neck.
I was hot, hot, hot, too fucking hot. Overheating and now thinking about his large hands, veiny and calloused, all over my skin, touching me, making me come.
Or his mouth, teeth grazing me—and I wanted him to bite me, because the sharp pain was always so grounding, always pulling me out of my head. And I’d spent too much time in my head.
What was wrong with me? We’d both taken a mutual step back from our sex life after the miscarriage, giving each other time and space to breathe again. But my libido was back in full force, stronger and hungrier than ever before. Like I was making up for everything I’d tried not to feel.
But I really couldn’t get enough. He’d turned me into a fiend. A nympho. I was barely surviving if I didn’t get it more than once a day.
The final straw between us was when I crossed my legs. Just enough for my dress to slip to the tops of my thighs, right into the crease where they met my hips.
His head whipped to me, eyes dark, voice low and dangerous. “Get up.”
I blinked, feigning an innocence that was so far from gone, especially when it came to this man. “Sorry?”
“Get the fuck up,” he repeated, unbuckling his seat belt. “Bathroom. Now.”
Oh.
My stomach bottomed out, and I felt a gush of moisture between my thighs that made me nervous to stand up, because there very well could be a mess beneath me.
I swallowed, rising on shaking legs but faking nonchalance as I walked toward the private bathroom at the back of the jet.
Okay, so we weren’t waiting.
Thank fuck, because I was dying.
I didn’t close the door all the way, instead turning in the cramped space just Callum stepped inside, locking the door behind him. The wild, crazed look in his eyes was unlike anything I’d seen before, and I let out a soft whimper.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he growled, hands already on me and gripping my hips, pushing me against the vanity. “You think you’re funny?”
“I think I’m winning.” My voice was pitchy, all breathy and wrong, betraying just how turned on I was.
His hand slid up my thigh, where he quickly discovered exactly what I’d planned. “Jesus Christ, Aurélie.”
What little remained of our restraint dissipated in an instant.
He lifted me onto the counter just as I twisted my fingers into his hair to crush my lips to his.
I needed him on me, in me, taking care of this ache that was undoing me by the second.
I barely had time to get my balance on the counter before he was yanking me closer, and any fancy soaps that were displayed in the little dish went flying.
We were all tongues and teeth and fumbling hands, his pushing the skirt of my dress up and mine undoing his belt and the button on his jeans to free his cock.
I got no warning before he was thrusting inside me, and my hands grappled at his shoulders as I gasped at the intrusion that stretched and filled me.
His piercing hit my cervix, but it only amplified the feeling of him inside me.
“So fucking good,” I moaned, my head falling back against the mirror behind me. His hands landed on either side of my head, splintering the glass from the force as he kissed me again, the pace of his cock inside me matching how his tongue swept across mine. Punishing. Unyielding. Fast.
It was filthy, frantic sex, the turbulence throwing our balance but making us desperate to stay close.
His hands wandered—tangling in my hair, wrapping around my throat and squeezing. My eyes rolled back, and I was no longer the one in control of this situation. I submitted to him completely.
“You’re so fucking wet for me, baby,” he murmured, his mouth latching onto the skin at the base of my throat and sucking. Fuck it, I didn’t care. Let him mark me, let him brand me. The whole world knew anyway, and it would only serve as a reminder that I was his.
“This pussy is mine.” He bit my shoulder, and fuck, yes that was what I needed.
My orgasm sparked to life in my core. “You are mine.” His mouth moved down my chest, one hand tugging one of my dress straps down so he could pull a nipple into his mouth.
Goosebumps erupted down my body, pressure building inside me as he somehow fucked me harder.
“So fucking responsive. Now be a good girl and come for me.”
It was all I needed. My grip on him tightened, my head falling onto his shoulder as I gasped and shuddered around him, coming so hard stars swirled in my vision. The hand on my throat disappeared to hold my hip.
“Fucking beautiful, Auri.” Then he came, too, his grip on me tightening as my name fell from his lips like a fucking prayer.