Chapter 11 #3
His heat and scent and presence were all that existed, but I fought my desire to submit fully to him. “Let me guess: all I have to do is exactly what you say?”
“Smart girl,” he rumbled, and the praise sent desire dancing through me. I wanted to be smart and good and perfect for him, just to hear him say those things to me, in that voice, until the end of my days.
And I hated myself for being so fucking predictable.
Even after everything I’d done, all the independence I’d fought for, I was about to give it up for some guy who was blessed with an extra dose of charisma?
I snarled at him, and he responded by spinning me around and kissing me hard and messy.
His teeth scraped against my bottom lip while his fingers clawed at my dress.
Distantly, I hoped the fabric wouldn’t wrinkle easily, because he took precisely zero care as he yanked it up and bundled it against my stomach.
I scrabbled at his clothing, tugging at the luxurious fabric of his shirt.
This was so much more than I’d bargained for, but what had I expected?
I knew the kind of man he was. Demanding.
Commanding. Used to getting his way. I’d felt a shadow of that on the phone, when the sharpness of my orgasm had left me reeling.
The reality of him was always going to be a force to be reckoned with.
His fingers were unhesitating as they jerked the gusset of my drenched underwear aside. With no warning other than one soft grunt when his fingertips touched my arousal, Cal shoved two long, thick fingers inside me.
I gasped, hands flying to his shoulders, eyes widening to meet his.
I’d never seen this look on his face before. It was triumph and lust. Worship. Ownership.
He said only one word: “Ride.”
My hips moved, the friction and pressure of his hand so achingly perfect. He watched me through hooded eyes, chest heaving with every breath.
“Beautiful,” he said, and my hips jerked. He used his free hand to tilt my chin, brushing his lips against mine. “So gorgeous, love. Better than I imagined. Ride my hand and don’t stop until you shatter.”
I was flushed and out of control. I could do nothing but cling to him and do exactly as he said, my body no longer my own. I gripped his shoulders, little moans slipping through my lips on every breath.
“You want everyone to hear you?” he chided, his fingers sinking deeper, thumb circling my clit.
“Want everyone to know you’re mine? Is that why you’re being so fucking loud, Deena?
Or is it because you’ve been waiting for this moment for months?
” He curled his fingers inside me, pulled them out, and added another.
I cried out, then buried my face against his neck. Cal wrapped his free arm around my shoulders, his hand cupping the back of my head, his other hand never stopping its torturous, beautiful service.
“Be quiet for me, beautiful,” he ordered softly. “Come on my fingers and don’t make a noise.”
“Annoying,” I grumbled against his throat, and Cal chuckled. The hand on my head softened as it held me against him. My legs trembled and twitched, and a climax shimmered in the distance.
“Been thinking about making you come since the moment you walked into my office and made a fool of me,” Cal said, his voice so low I had to strain to make out the words over the rushing of the blood in my ears.
“I didn’t—”
“Wanted to turn you over my knee and show you what happens when my woman acts like a brat in public and tries to embarrass me.”
My woman.
My head spun. It didn’t mean anything—I knew it didn’t. We barely knew each other. But it still made my chest feel hollow and achy.
“So now you’ll be a good girl and come on my hand, won’t you? You’ll do it quietly so I can watch your face while you do.”
I hated how much that turned me on. Pulling back to glare at him, my retort was stolen when I saw the look in Cal’s eyes. He sounded calm and dangerous and in control. But his eyes betrayed the truth.
Callum Frost was clinging onto control by the barest thread.
His eyes held an edge of wildness, and I didn’t know what would happen if I pushed him.
There were people just on the other side of the door, and my dress was bunched up around my waist. I glanced at the door, and a rush of heat went through me.
Apparently, I liked this. I liked the risk of getting caught. I liked Cal telling me what to do, even though it made me want to rebel.
“Cal,” I breathed, flicking my gaze up to his.
His expression was knowing, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The hand he’d used to tilt my chin slid down, gently holding the base of my throat. In this moment, he owned me. And I liked it. “Has anyone ever told you you’re perfect?”
I tried to huff a laugh, but pleasure washed through me in a rolling wave. My forehead fell to his shoulder as my legs began to tremble. I gasped, but I bit back the cry that wanted to come out.
“Perfect and dirty and mine,” he rasped, jaw brushing my temple, his praise sending more heat rushing down to my toes.
“Coming so quietly like a good girl.” His fingers slid inside me easily, and I whimpered when the heel of his palm connected with my bud.
I tried to squirm away, but Cal made a rough noise at the back of his throat.
“Come, Deena,” he commanded in that deep, dark voice.
“More,” I gasped. “Please.”
“If you want more, you ride harder, love,” he commanded, gentle and inexorable.
I whined in protest, and he smiled. I felt the way his cheek curved against my temple, could hear the smile in the soft praise he murmured in my ear.
His thumb moved to my clit, and my hips jerked and rolled.
I ground myself against his hand, all shame and embarrassment gone.
I bucked and rode, whimpering while he told me how well I was doing it.
I wanted this. I wanted this so badly. Those eyes drunk at the sight of me. Those fingers curled inside me. That dirty, possessive, arrogant mouth parted on a breath, sighing because of me.
My orgasm crested.
“Cal,” I whined, and pleasure ripped through me.
My head fell back. His satisfaction was evident in the look in his eyes and the softening of his shoulders, but he didn’t remove his fingers from inside me until the last twitches of my orgasm faded from my body.
Then, slowly, he brought his palm to his lips.
I watched as he licked the taste of me from his hand, his eyes fluttering shut as a groan rumbled through his chest. Panting hard, I tried to reckon with what had just happened. Tried to make sense of it, to figure out if I should regret it or not.
Then he opened his eyes, and he moved his fingers to my mouth. He pushed his index and middle fingers between my lips, and a shiver went through me as I took them inside my body once more. I could taste myself on him.
“You’re being so good, love,” he whispered, pupils so wide his eyes looked black.
“Doing as you’re told.” The praise shivered through me, sending little fireflies of delight flitting through my center.
He watched me, noting every reaction, and I knew he could tell I liked it when he spoke to me like that.
“Lick them clean, love. And then I’ll fuck you right. ”
I shouldn’t have liked him telling me that, especially not when he showed up here without warning.
But I did like it. It made the orgasm that had only just happened pale in comparison to the mounting desire inside me.
Desire to take him inside me again, to feel his heat and strength and power surround me so I couldn’t think of anything else.
To have him tell me how good and perfect and beautiful I was in that voice that drove me wild.
This was beyond anything I’d done with any ex. Beyond anything I’d fantasized about. He slid his fingers in and out of my mouth as I worked my tongue all over them, wishing they were his cock.
And I realized he’d been right on the phone.
If he told me to drop to my knees and suck, I would.
I would do anything in this moment, because nothing felt better than having the full force of his attention, his affection.
Nothing felt better than the heat of his body pressed up against mine, and the knowledge that just behind the placket of his pants, he was hard. For me.
I could let go, and it would be okay. I didn’t have to fight it. I wanted to please him, and in a distant part of my mind, I wondered if I should feel weak and ashamed for it. After all, he made me want to simper and submit.
That was what everyone always wanted from me.
Everyone outside that door. Everyone I’d grown up with.
They hated me when I left, when I put myself through college and got my degree through force of sheer determination.
They resented the fact that I had a business and I was able to support myself in a way that wasn’t tying myself to a man.
I was proud of those things. They were integral to who I was, the very fabric of me. I was independent and strong, and I stood on my own feet. Always.
So why did Cal make me want to get on my knees? What kind of weak, spineless woman was I?
“Hey.” He took his fingers back and cupped my cheek. His grip was strong, his eyes boring into mine. “Deena. You’re in charge here.”
I blinked, chest heaving with an inhale. “What?”
“You want to stop, we stop. You don’t like something, tell me, and that’s it. Do you understand?”
My heart thrummed with the weight of his words. I gulped, still tasting my own arousal on my tongue. “I…I don’t know.”
Cal’s touch softened, and he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. With his eyes still wild with desire, he visibly reeled himself back in. He gulped, licked his lips, then said in a quiet, rolling voice, “I think it turns you on when I tell you what to do.”
I flushed hot, and I knew I’d turned bright red. “No, it doesn’t,” I lied.
His eyes flicked between both of mine, and understanding seemed to settle over him. “What we do in here has no bearing on who you are out there.” He tilted his head toward the door.
When I tried to turn my head away from him, he brought me back with his fingers on my chin. “I wouldn’t have asked you to work for me if I didn’t respect you. And I still respect you, whatever we might do together.”
My legs were shaking with adrenaline, because this was the knot at the center of our attraction to each other. We both knew we could satisfy each other. He could give me exactly what I needed—what I craved—when no one else had been able to.
Because I’d never felt safe with anyone else. Not safe enough to let down my walls and admit that I didn’t want to be in charge. Not all the time. Not here.
Cal knew it. He understood it. Somehow, he’d gleaned my secrets from our few interactions, and he was promising to keep them safe.
Could I trust him? Of course not. But did I want him?
I dipped my chin in agreement, and Cal exhaled. He kissed me hard, and the last gasp of resistance went out of me. This was happening.
I wanted this. Wanted him. And I’d take whatever consequences came next.
Cal lifted me so I was fully sitting on the edge of the table. “Deena,” he murmured against my lips. “Spread your legs for me, love.”