25. Halle
CHAPTER 25
HALLE
W aiting for Caleb to get home just might be the death of me. I’m nervous .
A man has never made me feel this way before.
My palms are clammy and anticipation swirls in my stomach. We’ve been tiptoeing around this for so long. It’s surreal to think the moment is finally here. I swallow down my nerves and fill a glass with ice and water. Taking slow, measured sips, I will my heart rate to go down.
Long ago, my grandmother told me that when I found the right one, I’d know. That just seeing him would bring a smile to my face. That I’d want to tell him everything. That my heart would race just thinking about him.
I never believed her before now. My mom acted like that with every man she brought into my life. Yet one after another, they turned out to be assholes, and none of them lasted. So how could love be anything but pain and disappointment?
Eventually, I realized that she was chasing the high and not the person, but she’d been fooled over and over again, so how could I be sure the same wouldn’t happen to me?
Once I’ve finished the water, I dump the ice in the sink and put the glass in the dishwasher—which I’m still not used to having.
This dreaded corset, while perfect for a pirate costume, is massively uncomfortable. But I need Caleb’s help to get out of it.
That thought sends a new round of jitters through me. His hands on my body, his breath on my neck…
This feels like my first time all over again—all nerves and anticipation and fear that I’ll do something wrong or stupid, and Caleb isn’t even here yet.
The longer I wait, the more heat rises inside me. Panting, I lift my hair off my neck and pace the room.
“Stop it,” I scold myself two or three laps in. Stopping, I bury my face in my hands. “You’re being ridiculous. It’s just Caleb.”
Once he’s here, all my nerves will melt away. But there’s no tempering the anxiety while I wait.
I can’t stay still. Now that I’m not pacing, my hands have taken over the nervous movements, fluttering around my body, searching for ways to be useful.
With an audible groan, I drag myself upstairs. Rather than going to my room, I go to his. Caleb has been beyond patient with me thus far. If he senses any reservations, I worry he won’t sleep with me tonight. The man is frustratingly perfect. Seriously, can’t he have one flaw? I’m full of them.
I flick one of the bedside lights on, casting the room in a warm glow, then ease onto the end of his bed, crossing my legs. Instantly, I fidget again, crossing and recrossing and smoothing my hair back from my face.
For what feels like hours, I wait there. And when the front door opens and closes, my heart rate ratchets up once more.
Each beat sounds like Ca-leb in my ears, his footsteps on the stairs reverberating through me.
I hold my breath, like that will help this situation at all. Over my thundering heart, I can just make out the creak of a door down the hall. He’s peeking into my room, finding it empty.
I didn’t think my heart could beat any faster, but there it goes, proving the impossible possible.
My breathing is ragged when the door I left unlatched lets out the tiniest of squeaks as he eases it open.
He doesn’t startle when he sees me. If anything, he sags a little, relieved. He closes the door behind him—but doesn’t lock it—and leans against it, arms crossed, sizing me up .
“What are you waiting for, Halle?” His voice sounds deeper, huskier than normal.
My heart leaps into my throat. “You.”
His lips tip up into a smirk. “And what are you going to do with me?”
The question instills a confidence within me. One I’ve never possessed when it comes to men.
Carefully, I stand. Then I pad across the room.
His Adam’s apple bobs as he takes me in, the only sign that maybe he’s a little nervous too. Eyes raking over my face, he drinks me in, the look full of desire but also concern, as if he’s searching for any hint of unease. He’ll find none.
My instinct is to press up on my tiptoes and kiss him. Instead, I tug my hair over my shoulder and turn around, giving him my back.
“I can’t get this off on my own.” I peer back at him, and when the need in his eyes registers, my knees nearly buckle.
His fingers tremble as he grips the knot, working it loose. When the ribbon falls to the ground at my feet, the entire corset goes with it. Though he can’t see my chest from where he stands, I instinctively reach up to cover myself, but before I can, his hands are there, cupping my breasts.
The heat of his body radiates through me, but despite the warmth, a shiver makes its way down my spine. In response to my shudder, he holds me a little tighter and places a delicate kiss on my bare shoulder, his thumbs moving in slow circles over and around my nipples until they’re sharp peaks .
“Caleb,” I whimper, begging for more.
“Yes, baby?”
Baby . I’ve always hated that term of endearment. I used to find it downright patronizing. But from Caleb’s lips? It’s my new favorite word. Rather than cheap or generic, it’s reverent. Like a prayer.
“Don’t hold back.”
With a growl, he releases my breasts and spins me around. He takes a step back, his gaze dipping to my bare chest, heated, hungry, like I’m something worthy of worship.
As if he can read my mind, he drops to his knees, head tipped back, pure adoration in his expression. His focus doesn’t leave my face as he finds the zipper on the right side of my skirt and tugs it down. The skirt falls to my ankles, and he gingerly lifts my right foot, then the left, so he can get the fabric out of the way.
“I’ve been dreaming of eating this pussy again, Halle. You have no idea how good you taste.” He skims his fingers up the inside of my thighs, causing a shiver to work its way through me. He smirks, clearly pleased that he has such an effect on me. “Are you wet already, baby?”
I nod, a quiet little, “Mhm,” leaving my lips.
“Spread those legs for me, love. Let me see that perfect cunt.”
Buzzing with need, I do as he asks.
His hum of satisfaction is low, rough. “My girl is such a good listener. Aren’t you?”
I nod, dropping my hands to his shoulders to steady myself .
With two fingers, he parts my folds. “So fucking wet, and I haven’t even put my mouth on you.”
“Caleb.” His name is a plea.
He grins up at me, clearly enjoying my desperation. “Yes, sweetheart?”
“Hurry up,” I beg, my fingers digging into his shoulders.
Rather than hurry, he rubs his fingers back and forth lazily, taunting me, the smug bastard grinning again. Waiting.
“Please.” I finally give in.
Rather than reward me, he removes his hand. I cry out in protest, grasping his wrist.
He chuckles. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m just taking my mask off.”
“No!” I squeeze. “Leave it on.”
The way his face is partially hidden behind the mask lit a fire in me that’s been burning low all night.
Carefully, he lowers his hands. “You like the mask?”
With a nod, I loosen my grip on his wrist.
“Noted.” Lips kicked up, he pops up to his feet. The move is so quick, it startles me, and I take a step back, nearly tripping over my own feet. But before I can go down and completely embarrass myself, he catches my waist and holds me steady.
He dips his head toward me. “You good?”
I nod, unable to find my voice when he’s this close. He towers over me, and he smells good. Between his scent and the mask, he’s scrambling my brain.
With ease, he lifts me. I, naturally, am not nearly so graceful. When my feet leave the ground, I let out an embarrassing squeak and wrap my legs around his waist. Instantly, the fabric of his pants provides much-needed friction to the sensitive place between my thighs.
He lays me on the bed, slipping his hands down to my thighs to keep them spread. He takes me in slowly, appreciatively, and all traces of embarrassment melt away. It’s impossible to feel anything but empowered when he looks at me like that.
He steps back, eyes never drifting from me, as he undoes the buttons on his black shirt. When he shucks it, letting it fall to the floor by his feet, I nearly groan in relief.
His belt is next. Then he flicks the button of his pants. I’m panting in anticipation now, so damn needy. But instead of lowering his zipper, he stops there, his hands falling to his sides.
“Take your clothes off,” I beg as he climbs over me, his hands on either side of my head, his body hovering over mine. God, he’s huge and warm and consuming and… everything.
“You’re cute when you beg.” He nips my bottom lip. “But no. Not yet. Not until I get a taste of this sweet cunt again.”
He trails kisses down my neck, then sucks a nipple into his mouth. Once he’s thoroughly ravaged that one, he moves to the other. I’m writhing, hands buried in his hair, when he finally works his way lower. As his breath fans against my stomach, my skin pebbles and my back arches. The warmth in my core has heated to a full boil, every nerve ending hypersensitive .
When he finally reaches his destination, he drapes my legs over his shoulders and settles in. A lazy flick of his tongue over my clit has my back bowing off the bed.
“So responsive.” He rubs his fingers over my slick opening, then slides them inside, his focus fixed solely on my center, his eyes widening as I tighten around him. “God, look at you.”
He presses a firm hand on my pubic bone to keep me from wiggling. But I can’t help it. My body is primed, set to chase the orgasm already building.
“Patience,” he croons. “I promise I’ll make it worth the wait.”
I growl out my frustration. I’ve been patient. We’ve been tiptoeing around this moment for weeks.
He works his mouth against me and all thought melts away. My hands are in his hair again, fingers raking over his scalp, tugging the strands, holding on with all I’ve got. The moan he lets out in response is hands-down the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. It’s powerful, the realization that going down on me turns him on.
It doesn’t take long for my orgasm to crest. It’s within reach, growing, on the precipice, when he stops.
The sensation ebbs quickly as his tongue and fingers disappear. “What are you doing?” I protest, my voice laced with annoyance.
He works his pants down his legs, and at the sight of a tattoo on his upper right thigh, all my frustration evaporates. It’s so… unexpected. Caleb is a clean-cut kind of guy. The small tattoo on his arm is one thing, but high on his thigh like this? I never would have guessed. Bu t there it is, and it’s beautiful. An intricate tangle of vines and flowers with a single butterfly.
“I didn’t know you had that,” I blurt, pointing at it.
He chuckles, kicking his pants out of the way. “You never asked.”
“Is there meaning behind it?”
“Nah. Just thought it looked cool.”
Laughter bubbles out of me unexpectedly. Caleb doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who’d do anything just because he thinks it looks cool, especially mark his body permanently. But the evidence is right there in front of me.
I hum. “Is there a little bit of rebel lurking under all those button-down shirts?”
Snorting, he grabs my ankle, pulling me farther down the bed. “It’s the tattoo that makes you think that? Not my stress smoking?”
Honestly, I’d forgotten about that.
He doesn’t expect an answer, evidenced by the way he leans down and kisses me until my breath is gone.
I slip my hand between us, sliding it past the waistband of his boxer briefs and wrapping it around his length. Jesus, he’s thick and so, so hard.
“Halle,” he grits out.
In response, I work my hand up and down his shaft.
“Fuck.” The word is a long drawl. “Baby, I—” The muscles in his neck go taut and he closes his eyes. “Fuck, I’m embarrassingly close to coming. Hold on a minute, babe.”
He pulls away from me, sitting up on his knees. I mewl in protest at the loss of him. He’s only gone long enough to grab a brand-new box of condoms and rip the top open. He passes me a single foil wrapper, then tosses the box to the head of the mattress.
He takes the packet from my fumbling fingers with a grin. “Nervous, love?”
I shake my head, and his smile only grows as he rips it open and pulls out the condom.
“Liar.”
Once he’s sheathed, he lines himself up with my center. I expect him to take it slow, to tease me. Instead, he slides in with purpose, gliding easily against my slick channel.
“Oh, God.” My back bows off the bed. Full. I’m so fucking full of him.
He grips my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Don’t scream out for him. He’s not listening, but I am.” He releases me and cuffs my wrists, pinning them beside my head.
The move sends a thrill through me, making my breath catch.
He works himself in and out of me in a slow, measured rhythm, managing to rub against my clit every time he thrusts in, hitting me in all the right places.
In an embarrassingly short amount of time, I’m a panting, needy mess beneath him.
By the rigid set of his jaw and the tendons straining in his neck, he’s holding back. I don’t call him on it. Right now I’m not sure I can handle more. This moment is overwhelming. He is overwhelming. I’ve never had sex with someone I care about the way I do Caleb, and it’s far more transcendent than anything I’ve experienced.
Without slowing, he releases my hands and finds my clit. He rubs it in tempo with his strokes, sending me hurtling toward the edge.
“Caleb,” I whimper, head tipped back. “I’m gonna?—”
“Come, sweetheart. Show me how much this pussy likes my cock.”
I squeeze my eyes shut as pleasure thunders through me.
I think I scream “holy fuck,” but I can’t be sure. My entire being has reached a new plane.
It’s not that I’ve never had an orgasm, but for the most part, they’ve been self-induced, and the presence of this man—his thoughtfulness, his patience, his passion—magnifies the sensation tenfold. The way he touches my clit and whispers my name over and over again like I’m something to be worshipped only extends the pleasure.
As I return to this plane of existence, I force my eyes open and cup his jaw. The awe in his expression is enough to have me nearing that boiling point again. Though he’s stripped himself out of all of his clothes, the mask still covers the upper part of his face. I don’t know what it says about me that I find it so fucking hot, but I do.
Just drinking him in like this makes my core tighten.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he curses in response. “You feel like you’re ready to come again.”
I can’t respond. I’m incapable of proper speech at the moment. I’m purely moans and whimpers .
He pulls out of me and flips me over like a rag doll, pulling me up onto my knees and slamming back into me.
He fucks me hard and fast, murmuring words of encouragement as he does.
“Good girl. Fuck, you’re so fucking hot. I wish you could see how your pussy squeezes my cock. So perfect, baby. So fucking perfect.”
My body is still languid from my first orgasm, so I press my chest to the mattress and stretch my arms out in front of me.
“I’m close, baby,” he warns. “Think you can come again before I do?”
I mumble something like maybe , but it’s followed by if I do, I might die .
“I think you’ll survive,” he promises, bowing over me. He winds a hand around my throat and positions me so my back is flush with his front as he pumps into me.
“Almost there, baby,” he croons. “God, you’re so fucking pretty. Are you gonna let me come all over you? Please say yes. Please.”
Oh, God .
Did he have to beg? And why is it so damn sexy?
The heat in my veins flashes. “Yes.”
He pulls my head back against his shoulder, his mouth finding mine, swallowing my cries as he works my clit and slams into me, sending a third orgasm barreling through me.
When I go boneless in his arms, he guides me back down onto the bed. I mewl in pathetic protest as he pulls from my body .
I can’t see him, but the sound of his hand working against his cock has my pussy clenching in need all over again. Hot streaks of cum hit my lower back and ass as his moans fill the room. My heart lurches at the sound. It may be the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.
The mattress jostles, and then he’s on his back beside me, pulling my limp body over his, kissing me, long and slow, like we have all the time in the world.
“I knew it would be good,” he murmurs between kisses. “But I didn’t know it would be like that.”
A strange mix of excitement and contentment washes over me. I know exactly what he means.
He wraps his arms around me, pulling me even closer. I’m almost certain my hair is covering part of his face, but he makes no move to push it off.
We lie like that for a long time before he carefully moves from under me and pads to the bathroom. My eyelids are heavy by the time he returns, and when he presses a wet cloth to my back, I startle. Though it shouldn’t—this is Caleb, after all—the gesture surprises me. Quickly, though, I relax against the mattress and close my eyes again.
The press of his warm lips to the back of my shoulder has me slowly blinking back to reality.
When I catch sight of him, I pout. “You took the mask off. I liked that.”
Chuckling, he presses his teeth into the spot he just kissed. “I know you did, baby. I’ll save it for another time. I’m not sleeping in that thing. Come on. I’m going to lift you up and tuck you in.”
I’m too tired to protest as he scoops me into his arms and balances me with ease while he yanks the bedcovers back. Once I’m cocooned in his soft bedding, he climbs in behind me and pulls me close.
I could get used to this.
And though it terrifies me, maybe I already am.