22. Lucie
TWENTY-TWO
lucie
Callahan’s mouth is hot and delicious.
Whiskey dances on his tongue as he taunts and teases mine.
The piercing slides against me, promising me the pleasure of everything he has to offer.
I don’t even care we’re in a bathroom.
I’d gladly go down and practice my skills.
I’d offer him my pussy and my ass.
Beg him to take both.
Anything for that full, stretched feeling, for the little delights those rungs of silver unleash within me.
His demanding fingers stroke over my flesh, the wetness between my thighs making everything jump like I’ve been zapped with a low bolt of electric charge.
His fingertips whisper over my inner and outer lips and up to circle my clit.
I close my eyes, the hand that usually holds my hip or hair has the sink, and I’m balanced and spread for him.
Blood courses through my veins with a resounding chant of “yes, yes, yes!”
Callahan’s lips trail kisses down the side of my throat and I reach for him, touching his chest. I slip a hand up under his thin t-shirt to pluck and twist and pull at his nipple piercings .
“Holy Christ, Lucie Joy,” he growls against my ear, “do you want me to fuck you in here?”
“I don’t know.” Yes, my blood chants again.
Yes!
“Yes, you do, baby girl. Yes, you fucking do.”
He slides two fingers into me, turning them, curling them to rub that little bundle of nerves inside, then draws circles on my clit, pushing me closer to the edge.
“I owe you this from earlier in the kitchen. Come for me.” He starts to thrust and circle and rub.
Pleasure blooms and then bursts, shooting out to every cell.
His delicious magic fingers make me stutter, pulse, and then my muscles contract as a euphoric wave crashes down and roars through me.
He kisses me hard, swallowing my cry, and I clench my fingers hard on his nipple.
As I slowly come back from bliss, he’s laughing.
“You can let go now.”
“Oh my God!” I release him and almost fall backward into the sink.
But he catches me, pulling me close with his free hand as he slowly pulls his other out of my folds.
He sets me down on the ground.
“Well, that was some ride, yeah?” Callahan leans in close.
“I like a little bit of rough, Lucie. That was… good.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Ah, so do you, less than me, but you like it hard.” To prove his point, he slams his mouth on mine and kisses me so hard I almost melt to the ground, boneless.
“See?”
“Pig.”
“Callahan.”
I bite my lip to stop laughing.
And he licks his fingers clean.
“I worry.”
“You do, don’t you?” he says softly.
“I’m a big boy, though.”
“So?”
He puts his mouth by my ear as he opens the door.
The girl waiting looks the other way, and I suspect he just gave her his death stare.
“So it’ll take some getting used to.”
“What the fuck,” Callahan says when we get inside the house and he’s met with a tiny smudge of angry black fur, claws, and teeth sitting on the top of the coat rack, hissing at him, “is that?”
“Clawzilla,” Declan says cheerfully, plucking the kitten off and putting it on his shoulder.
“Blame your wife. I said no.”
There’s a whine and then a snout and a furry face appears from the darkened study, staring into the hall, then at the cat, and finally back up to Callahan.
Callahan bends down and holds out his hand and the dog steps out, wags his tail, and trots up to him.
“Sorry, I don’t have a treat,” he says, rubbing Arnold’s ears.
But the dog, after a moment of sniffing around at Callahan, just accepts the loving rubs.
“Why didn’t you eat the kitten, Arnold?”
Arnold lets out a reproachful whine, like he knows what Callahan just said about his new friend, then looks over to me.
“She doesn’t have any treats either.” Declan laughs and puts the kitten on the dog’s back.
Then he looks at Callahan, shaking his head.
“Eat it? Your dog chose the kitten and Lucie said yes.”
“We’ll return the kitten tomorrow.”
“No.” I look at Callahan.
“He loves it. The kitten makes him feel strong. He’s protecting it, like you decided to do with him. ”
Callahan nods.
“And he told you all this, did he?”
“No.” I narrow my eyes as Declan disappears.
“I can tell.”
“Can you now?”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you get upstairs and convince me?”
And he smacks my ass, sending me up to do his bidding.
With my heart beating hard and fast, I pace the room, wondering what Callahan might say about the pile of packages and boxes of things I bought today.
He might be mad about how much I spent, but he won’t hurt me.
“Stop being so dickmatized,” I mutter.
“The man’s a stone-cold killer. Someone almost killed him today and his response was fucking you. It isn’t normal. It’s scary. You should be terrified.”
And I should.
I know it.
But instead, I’m standing here, trying to contain the anticipation of him coming up and continuing what we did in the kitchen and what we did in the bathroom of the bar.
Of course, anticipation turns on a dime, especially when the door doesn’t open.
And continues to not open.
Maybe I should put something cute on.
Something sexy. I’ve gone and lost my mind, but honestly, I need to tell myself something I don’t know.
Like how far the sun is from the Earth because me losing my mind over a man like Callahan is definitely something I absolutely do know.
I pull open one of the bags from an insanely expensive boutique and then open the box of lingerie.
The purple pair of silk panties and bra are perfect.
I strip, then change into the new ones.
With a sweep of my eyes, I choose a dress in a dark burnt red.
I like that I’m wearing lingerie that doesn’t match my outfit.
Finally, I find a pair of black heels and slip them on.
I add some red lipstick, pucker my lips, and decide if the mountain isn’t coming to me, I’ll just go to the mountain.
After all, I can tell him I’m going out.
Because, screw him.
I carry the heels down the stairs when the voices stop me.
They’re in the living room on the second floor and Seamus is talking about a girl they’ve got hidden away and need to take care of.
Callahan says something so low I don’t catch it, but I’m already backing away, heart pounding.
Fear swamps me.
Did they kidnap a girl?
And what do they mean “take care of”?
Kill?
Is that my end game in this?
The blood pounds in my ears.
I grip my phone so tight that it lights up.
Then I hurry down the stairs to the first floor where Arnold and his kitten friend greet me.
The kitten meows and Arnold whines low, like he can pick up on my mood.
What I want to do is take them and run.
But where the heck am I going?
The card with my name on it is upstairs, and the credit card I have from Dad means he can track me.
Do I call him? Beg him to come and get me?
I unlock my phone, right as a message flashes on the screen.
Luce. Can we meet? I don’t recognize the number, but it’s got to be my sister.
Who else other than family and some casual friends who are all related to the mafia and crime families would text?
Dad and Mom both call, and Maximo is too busy with his school life.
Viv?
Yes! I need to see you, my sister texts.
Please. Where are you?
I’m not about to let her come here.
I’ll meet you in Union Square.
We have a spot where we’d always meet, on the East side, a fancy bar and eatery.
It’s perfect.
Where?
she texts.
The usual place.
Seven o’clock.
And with that, I take my bag, open the door, and carefully pull it shut.
After shoving my feet into my shoes, I take off down the street as fast as I can.
Dusk settles in when I get to Union Square, which is ridiculously busy as usual.
The commuters hustle past me to get into the subway station.
I walk past a music group busking on a corner.
We’re close to NYU, so I feel overdressed as I cross to the east side of the square.
I hover, scouring the sea of faces for my sister.
I don’t want to head to the restaurant immediately since it’s only six forty-five.
I’m early, and Viviana’s perpetually late, so I want to see what direction she comes from.
Ice drips down my spine.
If she comes, that is.
Because… what if it wasn’t her who texted?
With shaking hands, I pull my phone from my bag and call the number.
It just rings and rings.
Nobody picks up.
Viv’s not an idiot, but she also does first and thinks later.
So a burner isn’t a choice she’d consciously make, but I also can’t see her getting a new phone if she’s hiding from Dad.
Would Headley know to get her a burner?
Because I’m positive she ran off with him.
I shift, my heels clicking along the sidewalk as I approach a hot dog vendor.
Not that I’m getting one.
But I feel a little better not standing by myself and standing out like a sore thumb on the street.
I busy myself reading the sign for what he has.
Sodas, bottled water, and dirty water dogs, basically.
Maybe I should just go into the bar because I feel like I’m being watched.
I’m in Union Square.
Of course someone’s watching me.
But not even a tiny pep talk helps alleviate the feeling that whoever has me in their sights is on the malevolent side.
I press the button at the crosswalk and when the light changes, I cross.
My heart stops when I see him.
Leaning against a light post.
Smoking.
Utterly devastating in black pants and shirt rolled up at the sleeves to show off those tattoos, his suit jacket slung casually over his shoulder by one finger.
Only the intensity of his indigo gaze gives any emotion away, the rest of him is neutral, unreadable.
But I know with certainty he wants to strangle me.
I take one step back.
“I wouldn’t,” Callahan says, not moving.
“Come the fuck here, Lucie.”
People move past us, and I cast a glance away from him, but no one’s paying him attention.
Rather, everyone’s doing their best not to catch his .
It’s like they know who and what he is.
What he can and will do.
“No.”
“Remember, every choice you make has consequences.” He pauses; his expression turn beguiling.
“Come here, Lucie.”
Shoulders squared, I let out a defeated breath and step toward him.
He drops his cigarette, crushes it under his shoe, and cups my chin, drawing me close.
“You can’t do a thing to me here.”
“I can do what the fuck I like.” He leans down and kisses me, taking his time.
He tastes like his cigarette, and it makes my head spin.
Or maybe that’s just him.
He lifts his head, eyes glittering.
“Fuck, Joy, you’re so damn lucky you amuse me.”
Then Callahan frowns, searching my face.
“You going to tell me why you ran? Because I can’t stress how fucking stupid it was for you to take off like that. It was dangerous. You of all people should know that.”
“And you of all people know I do what I want.”
“I’m not lax like your father.”
Anger gets the better of me.
“And you’re also not him.”
“No. I have way more control over you.”
“Caveman.”
“Dirty girl.”
A wave of desire rocks my center at those words.
“Why’d you run off? Whatever you heard?—”
“Viviana contacted me,” I say, cutting him off.
I’m not ready for that particular conversation of why I originally decided to flee.
At least not in the middle of the street.
And not while I still can’t shake that feeling of being watched.
Even if my observer is right here, touching me.
“She wanted to meet.”
“For fuck’s sake, Lucie. Tell me.”
“I am. ”
His lips twitch.
“ Before you take off. Now, where are we going to meet her?”
I’m torn in so many directions that he’s here.
There’s safety, fear, annoyance, thrills galore, trepidation…
But still, he’s not leaving, so I take Callahan’s hand and lead him to the bar.
Once inside I look around, but there’s no girl being the center of attention, no gorgeous auburn-haired beauty gathering yearning looks like prizes.
And something in me slumps.
“She’s not here. She’s normally late, but now we’re late, and…”
“If she contacted you, then she’ll turn up.” He leads us to a table in the back, and it’s the perfect spot.
Callahan can sit with his back to the wall and have me next to him.
Viv will definitely be able to see me.
“You need to wait to be seated,” the server says when we sit.
“Fuck that noise.” Then he lays down enough cash as he orders drinks and a plate of fries to make the server happy.
“What if I don’t like fries?” I ask.
“Ah, fuck, save me from pernickety lasses.”
“Per-what?”
“I’ll buy you a dictionary. Late wedding gift.”
I snort.
“An old-fashioned one?”
“Watch that pretty mouth, Lucie, because I can think of a number of things to do with it,” he says, leaning toward me and sliding a hand under my skirt.
“Also, we need to talk about the mess in my room. And your little shopping spree. And that fucking cat.”
“I like cats.” And, I try and remind myself, this man has a girl somewhere as a prisoner or who knows what.
“I don’t.”
“Arnold chose Clawzilla, not me. ”
“That thing is nothing but a speck of fur. Take it back. Feed it to the dog. I don’t care.”
I flick his hand off me.
“You really are a bastard.”
“If I say the cat can stay for now, can I stick my hand in your panties and finger you until you beg me to come?”
“Callahan.”
“That’s a yes.”
And his hand is back, sliding up my inner thighs.
He strokes the front of my panties, right as the server returns.
He smiles at her until she leaves.
Then his smile vanishes.
He tugs the side of the panties so his fingers are free to slide over my wet flesh.
“I don’t see your sister, and you’re always, always wet for me.”
Callahan starts to finger just inside my pussy lips, teasing my entrance, all the way up to circle my clit and down.
“So fucking wet. Now you’re a screamer, so this is your consequence for running. I’m going to try and make you come and you’re going to stop yourself.”
He begins to push a finger into me, and he curls it, rubbing back and forth on my G-spot.
A moan breaks free as the fucker uses his free hand to eat a fry and then takes a sip of his drink.
Both my hands are under the table, gripping my seat, my legs spread, and all I can do is thank the bar gods they have a black cloth over the table.
No one’s looking so…
He thrusts the finger in me, his thumb flicking my clit and my eyes roll upward.
“I’m going… I can’t… stop, stop, stop…” I want to say go, go, and yes, but he’s right, I’ll scream and?—
He kisses me hard and I come, shattering and spasming, and I scream into his mouth as his tongue assaults me, too.
I’m a wreck, I want more, and I kiss him back with a hunger I didn’t know I had.
He pulls his finger from me and changes the kiss into a slow, deep thing that rocks me down to my toes, the tongue piercing mine to suck.
When that ends he raises his head and says, “I don’t think she’s gonna show up.”
His words are like a bucket of cold water to my face, and suddenly something in me snaps.
“Who’s the girl you’ve got,” I rasp, my pulse hammering hard in my throat, “and what are you planning to do with her?”