15. Callahan
FIFTEEN
callahan
Fuck, my Lucie’s a sensual, hungry creature, and I don’t want it any other way.
She fascinates me. She’s innocent, yet she was about to get an up-close show of spread-open pussy in her face and an invitation to dive in from the waitress/hooker/stripper out on the main floor based only on the way she openly stared with interest.
Shit, I don’t think Lucie knows just how much her fascination’s a turn-on.
It definitely is to me.
I don’t even have a pussy.
But if I did, I’d show it to her.
Hell, I let her suck the living fuck out of my cock not that long ago.
Lucie comes over, the heels hot, the dress hotter because it’s not over the top.
It gives me pleasure to know that I picked it especially for her and that she looks fucking amazing.
She’s so beautiful, but she doesn’t see it.
She also, I realize, doesn’t look like her father.
Her looks favor her mother.
Her sister is a mix of both.
And while people might see the sister and not Lucie, that’s just because they have no taste or they’re just not paying attention.
This girl is …
Obsession in the flesh.
“Ah, Jesus, this fucking drink again?” I take it away from her, set it down, then pull her into me so she can feel my cock getting hard.
Not because of the sex show.
Though, to be fair, that’d do it normally.
But this time, it’s because of her.
Pretty and sweet and hot and innocent and fiercely curious.
I sit on one of the sofas and bring her down onto my lap.
Soft and warm and basically naked under the dress.
The silk panties are nothing at all.
But this is a game of torture and reward, of edging her just so.
And I want her so overwhelmed when I’ve done that, she’s mindless, crying, and begging for my cock.
The door’s locked, and these one-way mirror walls give the illusion of a birdcage where the watched can choose to watch you back.
They can’t. I checked.
“So, Lucie, do you like that? The way they pound into her? Stretch her open? There are two more waiting their turn. And that one, fucking her mouth, see how deep he gets, how much she’s choking? Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?”
She wriggles on my lap, and I clench my hand on the seat beside me.
Fuck. She’s wet and her juices soak through the suit pants to my thigh.
It’s enough to throw my plans away and unzip her dress, rip those panties to the side, and destroy that virginity.
Lucie turns and I bite down on a groan just as I swear to fucking God she drags that pussy along my thigh.
“I think it’s hot in that way that something like that simply is. It’s titillating, but I’m not the audience. I don’t think I get off on watching.”
I slide a hand up under her dress, one big reason I picked it.
I can touch her, fuck her, toy with her under this and it’s not obvious.
Do I care if I’m being obvious like Dec, my little hormonal pervert of a brother?
I usually don’t care.
With Lucie, I do.
I wouldn’t want her down there, even if it was me fucking her.
How she looks, how she fucks, is going to belong only to me.
“Then why are you flushed and all wet, all turned on there?” I ask.
And fucking Lucie. She can’t help herself.
“It’s because of you.”
“Jesus.”
I kiss her slowly, a long kiss of passion without urgency, an exploration, an expedition, and even though I’m beginning to know her, how she kisses, those tiny sighs and shivers, there’s always something new waiting to be discovered.
Like that fucking honesty, the little bite of my tongue, the lick against it as she holds it captive, before releasing me to melt back into the kiss, all that’s fucking calling out for me to claim.
“Oh, Lucie,” I say, breaking the kiss, “don’t change.”
I want to fuck her.
Not because of anything but her.
She excites me to the point I could easily lose control in seconds.
“You’re more interesting,” she says, “even if I don’t want you to be.”
I laugh.
Fuck.
“Is she okay? Does she want to be there? The chains…”
“Lucie, she’s being paid; she’s into this. They’re all too fit, too hot not to be paid, too good at making it all look good. That’s a live porn show. I checked. I won’t be having anyone trafficked or here against their will.”
“And that one?” She nods at the whipping and rope-play demo .
I nod. “They’re into it.”
“How—?”
“I asked, I know. This fucking room’s full of sex shit. I could chain you up, tie you down.” I tug one of the straps free, then the other, exposing her pale rose nipples, all tight and pointy.
“You’re so beautiful.”
I take a handful of tit and lick and suck and bite.
She’s beyond soft, the tip the perfect contrast. I lift my head, blow on the wetness, and she moans.
I suck the other tit, her back arching, finger kneading my chest. When I turn her fully on my lap, her legs now on either side, I flip the skirt to see her cunt, how the wet silk’s stuck to every line, swell, and crevice.
I pull them back, exposing her, and my cock jerks hard.
“Beautiful.”
I run my fingers down over the silky wet flesh, and they glide.
Touching her cunt’s a live wire to my cock, and I’m already on edge.
She’d be so pretty with some piercings.
But I’d never want to mar her perfect flesh.
Not to mention completely unwilling to let someone else look at her so intimately, to touch her like I am.
I pinch her clit and she gasps, stiffening, and I capture a breast again.
Twisting her flesh with the lightest touch, her breathing changes, becomes labored, and as I slip a finger into her, she lets out a high-pitched cry, her pussy spasming on me for a momentary series of flutters.
I let her go, lean back, and push in a second finger, lazily thrusting.
Her wet heat, the tightness that stretches each time I plunge in, is a thing of beauty.
I love the way her dress bunches at her waist, the straps still on her arms, caught at the elbows.
I wrap a hand around the back of her head and bring her in for a deep, hot kiss.
She’s fire and light on my tongue with the lingering taste of Jack and the sweet sugar of the Coke.
But beyond that, it’s all her, wild and free and perfect in every way.
The kiss has dark carnal undertones, some so devastatingly innocent I’m floored.
It’s like desire in its purest form.
And I’m addicted.
I soften the kiss, bringing it to little sips that trail over her skin, up to her ear, then down her throat.
She rocks on my fingers, trying to get off.
I move inside her, rubbing that little nub of nerve endings so she quickens, gasping, gripping at me.
When I can feel it build, I stop, slowly withdrawing my fingers.
I put my wet hand on her thigh.
It takes a moment for her to blink back her focus, and when she does, her body jerks as she tries to get off me.
But I place pressure on her thigh, the hand on her head holding her still.
Then I work the comb and pins free from her hair, letting those gorgeous autumnal locks fall in curls around her flushed, passion-kissed face.
“The fucking things I want to do to you.”
“Like what?”
That breathless pitch is almost my undoing, so I change the subject.
“What did you think of the place from the moment you got out of the limo?”
She furrows her brow.
“Why?”
“Call it curiosity,” I say with a shrug.
I need a moment to get hold of my control.
I married a witch. She can undo me in moments.
Make me wonder if control exists.
Of course I haven’t fucked her yet.
I play with one of her nipples.
“You knew we were coming here and what it was. Outside it looks like a generic club. Inside?”
She frowns, then swats my hand away.
I shouldn’t allow it, but I grin and stop.
“The foyer was too seedy. I’d make it spa-like or so nondescript those who come in are relaxed or feel it’s going to be a discreet experience going inside. And for newcomers, they have no idea what it’ll be like.”
“And inside?”
“A… a sex club? I have zero experience, Callahan. I know when you met me I was dressed for a dance club, but I honestly don’t often go to those. Unless Viv—” She swallows.
“Viviana used to make me go with her.”
Good points.
Not the Viviana shit.
That’s not a point. The foyer idea I like.
“We use this— will use this for certain things.”
“Laundering.”
I raise a brow.
“I lived with my family. I heard things.”
“This could make a lot of money, too. And I could use that to open other places.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
I look her in the eye.
“My mam taught me women are fierce and smart. You’re my wife.”
“For now.”
I bring her forehead to mine.
“Always.”
“Callahan.” She stops, breathes, and says, clearly changing the subject, “What would you do to me? You said?—”
“I’d tie you up on that bench there. Spread you open. I’d make it so you couldn’t move; you’d be there for my pleasure.” And hers, because for some reason that’s intrinsically linked.
I care about a woman’s pleasure, but it’s more because it enhances mine.
But with little Lucie Joy, I fucking care about it.
I want her drowning in it.
I want to teach her all the heights and depths of it.
I want her as addicted to me as I am to her.
“I’d fuck you. Mouth, cunt, ass. I’d make you beg; I’d make you come. I’d make you want to be my slave.”
“Do it.”
“Excuse me? ”
“Tie me up, take me. Fuck me.”
“Well now, that’s quite a mouth you’ve got on you there, Mrs. Murphy.”
Nope.
I’m never calling her that again.
Christ. Mrs. Murphy’s my mother.
“Miss Lucie,” I say.
Her lips twitch like she knows what just went through my head.
I push her off me. Why the fuck not?
I’ll tie her up. Get us both off.
I push her dress off her as I get up and she’s essentially naked.
“Panties,” I say.
She swallows, eyes nervously going to one of the apparently glass walls.
But she does as asked.
She is fucking beyond stunning.
I walk around her, tracing over her with my fingers, her flesh soft and smooth, hot to the touch from her arousal.
Then I make her lie on her back on the sex bench, which is the height for me to fuck her standing, and I decide to live my fantasies.
I’m not a rope guy. I don’t have that in me.
I like it, like watching it because there’s art to it, but I don’t do the whole hours of tying a woman up.
I go to the rack of toys and ropes and whips.
There are packaged dildos and ass plugs, anal beads and clips and pegs.
I choose the silk ties.
Behind me, her breathing’s labored and it makes my cock beyond hard.
“Callahan…”
I take an O-ring, too.
“Yes, Lucie Joy?”
What I should be doing is making sure Declan isn’t balls deep in some woman.
Seamus is with him, so hopefully he’s keeping the sex-pest in the making under control.
I remember being Dec’s age, so I know what I’m talking about .
“C-can they see in?”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know.” She snaps her words and the bench creaks.
I don’t turn. “Lie back down. If I want people to see, they will.”
She goes silent and her fuming perfumes the air and strokes my excitement.
Then I look at her. “Ready to begin?”