Chapter 21
Twenty-One
EVIE
W anting someone has never hurt like this.
The ache growing for this man is sending me to the brink.
His fingers curl in my hair, one hand collaring my throat.
It’s all I can do to drag his mouth back to mine when he goes up for air.
The throb between my legs has long since turned my insides to lava.
My heartbeat thunders, turning every breath into fiery nothingness.
“Callum,” I rasp.
His grip around my neck fades and knuckles graze over my stomach, heading to the ache at my center.
Mouth agape, I whimper when his fingers sweep over my clit.
He holds his eyes to my own as my face twists with pleasure.
His lip curls at one side, like he can feel it, too.
Like each jolt he sends through me buries itself inside him, too.
“Evie, this is mine. This wet-as-fuck pussy—all mine.”
I pant as he runs two fingers through my center. I fight the need to close my eyes and sink against the wall at my back. I don’t want to miss a moment of this. Every look he gives me, every face he pulls—I want to capture them all and commit them to memory.
For . . . when I leave.
I hate that sentence more than any other that has ever existed.
The fact that my time here with this man is limited burns. A hole, right through me. Teeth find my nipple and the thought bursts and disintegrates. Writhing against the wall, I want him everywhere.
It seems all I ever do with this man is beg.
“Fuck, look at you, baby girl. So damn needy for it.”
He sinks two fingers inside me, and I arch off the wall with a whimper.
His thumb circles my clit as he pumps his fingers deep, curling them forward.
My body is vibrating, my footing getting sloppier by the second.
A hand grips my hip, steadying me in the slippery tub.
The water turns cold, and Cal groans, pulling his fingers from my core.
“No,” I choke.
A sly smile curls over his lips as he slides them into his mouth.
He growls around his digits, tasting my need dripping down his palm.
When he’s done with his hand, he turns and shuts off the water, shoving the curtain back.
I step toward the edge of the tub, and he grabs me up, settling me on his hips.
I slam my mouth over his before he has a chance to take a step. Fire consumes my body, and the only cure is him.
Inside me.
The bed meets my back a moment later, and I’m caged in, his knees nudging my legs wide apart.
Cal crawls backward, nipping my flesh as he goes.
Finally, his mouth hovers over my needy point.
I struggle to catch a full breath, sinking my hands into his hair.
His tongue circles gently over my clit. I look down at Mr. I-Can’t-Be-Gentle.
He bites down, sending me off the bed with a cry. It’s heaven, the lancing pleasure of the sting doused by the most agonizingly beautiful sensation when he sucks the bite away. The explosive heat of an orgasm builds fast.
God above, please do that again.
“More,” I beg.
Always begging.
I can’t even say I hate it. That would be a lie.
Two fingers sink into me as he laps at my clit. My too-short breaths turn into choppy pants.
I—
I can’t breathe.
His teeth find my clit again. My cry echoes off the rounded house walls. Whimpers follow as he sucks down hard. I come around his fingers, waves racking my body with such force, my whimper cracking to a sob.
Fuck.
Blue eyes burn. His face looks as wrecked as I feel.
I lay on the bed, propped up, looking down at him. His knees biting into the wood, he clenches his jaw.
“Keep your promise, baby girl. You leave, you hear me?”
“I—” I whimper.
I can’t say it.
“Leave, Evie. You staying isn’t going to be how this ends.”
“I’ll leave. But not without this first.”
He has his conditions; I have one nonnegotiable. I like the feeling of some sort of control. It feels good to ask for—no, demand—what I want. The thrill of it rises like warmth.
He pushes to his feet, hooking his hands under my knees. When I’m over the edge of the bed, he closes in, the tip of his cock nudging my entrance. “Good girl.”
He slams into me, hard and fast. My leg is over his shoulder a second later. His face is desolate as he thunders into me. The stretch of him is delicious. There’s none of the usual self-consciousness I have at being this close. This exposed.
Every last thread that makes up my existence can feel it. The rightness, the bloom that unfurls with his touch. With every rough, selfless move he makes.
Head tilted back, bliss takes me under. Eyes faltering shut, I grip the blanket as pressure finds my clit. The warm pad of his thumb caresses me into a desperate state. I’m falling away from existence, teetering on the line between nothingness and everything.
As if reading my mind, he leans over, his hand sliding up my belly and between my breasts before clasping down hard on my throat. “Don’t you go wandering off on me.”
I open my eyes, finding his tortured gaze.
He releases me as he rises and grips my right side, flipping me over without breaking contact.
I huff a needy breath as he crowds me on the bed from behind.
Calloused fingers sweep my hair over my back to hang down my right arm.
I turn back, my mouth hunting for his. Not tasting him now would be an agony I doubt I’d survive.
“Cal,” I utter as his lips find mine.
His hands cover my own, our fingers lacing, he moves deeper inside me. I cant my hips, taking him further still.
“So fucking tight, baby girl. Made for me.” He bites down on my shoulder again, and I buck underneath him.
The feral growl ripping through him sends a new wave of wetness to my core.
His fist twists through my hair as he picks up the pace.
Each long, deep stroke builds something exquisite deep inside.
Like nothing I’ve ever felt.
I widen my thighs for him, wanting him deeper. Wanting more of what only he can give me.
“Look at me, mo nighean.” He tugs my head to one side. “Good girl.”
His body is rigid, every muscle tensed to satiate me.
He quickens. Rough thrusts slam into me, and I whimper when he finds a place so deep, my breath forgets to cycle back into my lungs.
A low, raw rumble claws its way up his throat, and he grips my hip with his free hand.
Leaning over, his other hand skirts my ribs until fingers find my nipple.
He pinches it, rolling it between his fingertips, and pulls out so slowly.
I let out a sob.
“You like that, Evie baby?” His voice is gravel.
I can’t respond. His hand on my hip finds my mouth and his thumb slides between my lips, tugging my bottom lip down. I suck him into my mouth and am rewarded with another slow, agonizing stroke. I’m needy for it. Drowning in the scraps he gives me while dreaming about the entire meal.
Leave.
His word from earlier burns.
It’s cruel. To find something so ethereal, only for it to never be mine.
His.
Ours.
“Come for me,” Cal rasps before picking up the pace, his hand finding my clit. “I want you to milk my cock. I want to know what that feels like. Just once.”
My back arches instantly, his words sending me closer and closer to the precipice. I don’t want this to be over. I don’t want that moment to arrive. The one where he’s not sunk deep inside me, where our two souls are no longer retrievable without one ending up with a little of the other.
That loss seems too great.
“Please, cailín luachmhor .” His voice is raw and all begging.
Too painfully, we are viscerally affected by the other. Warm kisses track up my spine, and the first explosive spiral of my oblivion releases.
“Good girl,” he whispers against my back. His strokes stay steady and long, his fingers now circling my clit, drawing out each blissful wave. Whimpers turn to ragged cries as I detonate around him. I need every inch of him as I clamp down.
I’ll never have this with anyone else. I know this the second it starts. God, he’s perfect.
“Callum, plea?—”
He works me over, the rough man who couldn’t rein in his need temporarily lost. The soft comfort of his breath is on my neck as he slows and pulls me up into his chest. I tilt my head back, knees digging into the mattress as I plant open-mouthed kisses to his neck. Jaw. Teeth tugging at his bottom lip.
Satiated, but still hunting for more.
Unfolding from around me, he spins me on the bed only to tug me to his hips. I don’t care about anything but claiming the gorgeous face in front of me. Palms cupping his face, I smash my mouth to his.
He moves, taking me with him. We’re by the desk. My laptop flies onto the bed. He leans down and sweeps the rest of the items to the floor in one swift motion.
My ass meets the cool wooden surface, and his palms push my thighs wide.
Two fingers sweep through my center. They drip with my release when he raises them to my lips.
I take the offering, sucking them clean.
He pushes his fat tip against my pussy, notching at the entrance.
Still now, my breath hitches at the stretch of that delicious part of him opening me.
I grapple at his neck and face, wanting his kiss. He shoves me down, one hand on my collarbone as he slams into me. His face is so goddamn feral as my breasts bounce with every hard, punishing thrust he sends deep.
“This pretty little cunt has been mine since the second you stepped foot on this damn island. When you leave, it will still belong to me.”
I can’t breathe.
He thunders into me. Harder still. The desk hits the wall under the window.
My head meets the glass pane. The window rattles with every stroke.
Fingers pinch down on my clit, and I snap up off the desk, legs wrapping around his hips.
The restriction sends him wild. He scoops me up, and the wall crashes into my spine a heartbeat later.
Hands slide under my ass, and I open wide for him.
Thighs aching, I widen further still. Mouth open and hunting for his.
Heat coils low in my belly again, and when I open my mouth to ask for more, his head drops automatically, lips closing around my nipple. He sucks hard, and I cry out through another soul-shattering orgasm. My hands slap to the wall behind me.
“Callum! Fuck, ple?—”
Oh god . . .
His face twists as he locks eyes with me, his movements turning sloppy. “Please... you have to leave.”
Only now falling back down to earth after he shattered me apart, it’s all I can do to nod.
One hand hits the wall, his palm slapping by my head. He growls through his release, sending heated ropes deep into me. I cup his face, watching him fall apart further with each stroke.
His forehead drops to my breastbone, and I wrap around him. As if that will hold the rest of the world at bay. As if it will cease to exist and we can stay suspended in this little life we have been wandering through for the last six months.
For the first time in my life, I wish tomorrow could simply be a repeat of today.
If I could, I would strike the word leave from existence.