Chapter 24 #2
After the door opened and closed, I was faced with something that scared me more than death, more than whatever lay afterward.
Elliot’s smile greeted me, his blue eyes bright while crossing through the living room in easy strides to pull me into his arms.
I went willingly, sinking into his warmth while trying to imprint his scent into my memory forever.
“Missed you.” He kissed the side of my neck.
“It’s been less than a day.” I rolled my eyes as he released me.
I missed him too.
He didn’t respond to my eyeroll, unless you counted grasping the back of my neck and kissing the ever-living hell out of me a response.
Again, I melted into his kiss, gladly, wishing I could lose myself forever in it.
It lasted long enough to trick me into thinking the world wasn’t dark, and there was hope for me yet.
Once I took a breath without Elliot’s tongue in my mouth, reality tasted bitter.
“You taste like tequila.” He licked his lips.
“I had a margarita with Avery to celebrate her weaning.” The lie easily spilled from me.
Elliot didn’t seem like he doubted me. I’d given him no reason to. And why would I lie about something so benign?
“You look fucking amazing.” His eyes hungrily roamed over my body.
I did look fucking amazing. I’d dressed to look like myself, my old self. Not the new Calliope who owned jeans and tee shirts and wore them together with her hair down, minimal makeup.
I wore a tailored Yves Saint Laurent pencil skirt, white.
It skimmed over every one of my curves, finishing at my knee.
My blouse was a delicate lace, exquisitely crafted.
Hair was pulled back into a tight bun at the nape of my neck that was already making my temples throb.
My new freckles were covered in makeup, making my skin look flawless, porcelain.
My body reacted to his look of appreciation, tingles erupting all over my skin and my pussy pulsating in anticipation even though I told my reproductive organs that it was not the time.
Elliot didn’t get that message, his pupils dilating. “Bend over.” His tone was unstable as he seamlessly morphed from the smiling, affectionate man to the commanding Dom.
Even though I had put a lot of thought into how our goodbye was going to go—me being a total ruthless witch, making him hate me and never wanting to see me again—I couldn’t get my bitch on.
I couldn’t refuse Elliot. And I greedily wanted to walk into war with him coating my insides.
Happily, I turned away from him. I wanted that closeness, the ecstasy that came from having sex with him, but I didn’t want to have to look at him.
The second my elbow hit the back of the sofa, Elliot used his legs to gently part mine, hands at my hips, presenting my ass to him. Then he rolled the hem of my skirt up to my waist.
He let out a low hiss as he saw my panties, my garter. Elliot never tired of my lingerie, always appreciating, worshipping the costly fabric. He might have been a simple man, but he had expensive taste in lingerie.
His fingers swiped at the soaking material, making me twitch in anticipation.
“Can’t decide if I’ll tease you a little or just fuck you till you scream.” He toyed with me over the top of my panties.
I was already panting, my worries fading away. Nothing mattered except the feel of Elliot’s fingers.
He pulled the fabric to the side, then I heard the rattle of his belt, the only thing preparing me before he slammed into me, filling me completely.
I saw stars as he bottomed out inside of me, the angle intense, almost too intense. Elliot moved with expert precision, knowing my body because he’d spent months learning it. Learning me.
His grip on my hip was the perfect pressure, a finger toying with my clit enough to enhance my pleasure but not enough to make me come until he decided.
I let myself go one more time, surrendering to him, knowing I didn’t need to make a single decision. He had me.
I was safe.
For a few more minutes, at least.
Elliot was no slouch, but it didn’t last as long as it needed to. It needed to last for the rest of my life. In his head, this was just a steamy quickie, not goodbye sex. Not that Elliot would ever agree to goodbye if he knew that's what it was.
I wanted to whimper as he pulled his semi-hard cock out of me, cum trickling with it. He quickly used his shirt to clean me up.
“I’ll go get a?—”
“No,” I harshly cut him off, wiping the tears from my eyes.
I pushed off the sofa, straightening my back and turning to face him, shirtless, jeans undone. There was a crease between his brow at my jarring tone.
“I’m going to New York.” I pulled my skirt back down, forcing the warmth from our coupling to run out of me like water down a drain.
I stepped back, even though leaving his embrace was about as hard as I thought gnawing through my own hand to escape chains might be.
Except Elliot wasn’t a chain. He was my anchor. To a life that wasn’t really mine. One I didn’t deserve and surely would’ve set an atomic bomb to at some point. Better to get ending it over and done with.
Elliot’s eyes narrowed. “New York?” Worry settled in the lines of his face. He understood what New York was. What waited there for me. I watched his teeth gnash together, him clench and unclench his fist.
Although Elliot didn’t outwardly resemble the alpha males in my life, and in a lot of ways he didn’t inwardly resemble them either, his knee-jerk reaction to me being in any kind of danger was to step in. Even though he would’ve been way out of his depth.
“Is that a good idea?” he asked skeptically.
I laughed bitterly. “A better idea than this.” I waved my hands between us, and Elliot’s features scrunched into a full-on scowl.
“What the fuck are you talking about, Calliope?”
I reached into my purse for my compact, opening it to touch up my makeup. And so I didn’t have to look him square in the face when I said what I had to say. Putting on the facade that I didn’t care.
“You’re dawn, and I’m midnight,” I sighed.
“You care about sea turtles and recycling and planet Earth. I couldn’t give a shit about the sea turtles, certainly not recycling, and I’m sure Earth is going to burn whether we drive electric cars or whatever the fuck it is we’re supposed to do because the billionaires still use private jets, and cruise liners still slog through the oceans full of trash.
” I placed my finger on the edge of my lips, wiping away a smudge of my lipstick.
“I’m here to make myself richer, and to do that, I work for the billionaires ruining Earth.
And though it may irk me a little, it’s not enough to stop me. ” I snapped my compact closed.
Needing to press on, there was nothing to do but look at Elliot. “I will do nothing but pollute you just like those bottles I don’t recycle pollute our atmosphere.”
The words hurt coming out, but not nearly as hard as they hit the air in his house, a place that had known nothing but happiness, decimating the man who didn’t deserve any of this.
He stepped forward, pulling me to him, and I let him, gritting my teeth against the contact.
“It kind of sounds like you’re saying goodbye, and it’s scaring the shit out of me, Calliope.” His expression was grave, hands tight on my hips. “Because it’s sounding like you’re not just preparing to not only leave but not planning to come back at all.”
There was a storm in his silver eyes, but I felt at home in it. That storm was for me. The anxiety, the anger, the desperation … it was for me.
I squeezed my eyes shut so the tears wouldn’t fall, so I’d find the strength to say what I needed to. When I opened my eyes, I was relieved that they were dry, that my expression was free of any of the emotion that was ripping through my insides like jagged glass.
“I’m attached to living,” I said in an even tone.
“So I'll try my level best to not let a pack of men be my end. I consider myself too narcissistic to go to New York expecting not to come back.” I drew in a deep breath. “Regardless, I will ensure that I protect my family. Yours. You.” My heart splintered. “And I’ll do that by losing my life if I must.” The plan had not been to talk about sacrifices or anything noble.
It had been to be so needlessly cruel that he’d let me go without a fight.
But I found myself unable. Me. Calliope Derrick. Unable to hurt a man.
Unable to hurt the man I loved.
I would go to the grave with many sins, but that would not be one of them.
“You will fuckin’ not ,” he growled. “You will fucking not go at this alone. I get feminism, and I appreciate it. I’ll march in the streets with you when this is over, I’ll do whatever the fuck you want.
But you cannot let yourself die at the hands of a bunch of fucking men when you’ve got plenty of them right here, willing to fight at your side, under your command. ”
The passion with which he said the words, the fervor, made him rival Mel Gibson in Braveheart for most inspiring speech.
I smiled without warmth. The only way I’d be able to keep him safe was to turn into an ice queen, shutting myself off from my feelings.
“You think I need an army of men to fight an army of men?” I shook my head. “I did this. I’m responsible for damning myself, so I’ll be responsible for saving myself.”
His hands tightened on my hips almost to the point of pain. “I’m not going to let you do this, Calliope.”
“And what gave you the impression that you can let me do anything?” I arched a brow at him.
“Are you going to knock me out? Tie me to a chair? That’ll slow me down, yes.
And taking away my agency will kill anything between us.
So do it.” I looked down to his hands on my hips in challenge. “Force me to stay.”
Elliot’s grip flexed for a millisecond before he let go, stepping back. It was no surprise. He would never do that to me.
“I will not force you to do anything, Calliope,” he said quietly. “I’ll ask you to accept help. I’ll get on my knees and fucking beg if that’s what it takes.”