17. Caleb
Chapter 17
Caleb
“ D o you have any questions?” I tap my fingers on the dresser behind me as I lean against it.
I gave Mia a redacted version of my sudden marriage, because when push comes to shove, I don’t trust this girl not to rat us out to the immigration officers.
Sitting on her bed, with her back against the headboard, she drops an uneaten slice of pizza back into the box. “Is your wife okay with me being here?”
She doesn’t look at me, her gaze on her duvet as if the stitching pattern was the most fascinating thing in the world.
Explaining—really lying about—my marriage to Mia was the longest conversation we’d had since she showed up and told me who she was .
Celeste is right, my behavior around Mia is shameful. But Celeste saw Mia for thirty seconds. And I know the girl is hiding something.
Along with the fact that her mother doesn’t even want to see me… As sad as it is, I don’t trust this girl—who I should feel some connection to.
“Celeste doesn’t mind. Though sometimes I wonder if you want to be here.” I push off the dresser and walk to the door.
She rolls her eyes. “What’s not to like? You feed me, I have a comfortable bed here, and you don’t nag me about being on my phone twenty-four-seven. And your donations to my lifestyle are great.” She plops on to the cushions, narrowly avoiding the pizza box, and stares at the ceiling.
I don’t know what to say to that, but clearly she comes here for perks, not for bonding.
“Good night, Mia.”
“Night, Daddy,” she says, mocking me.
Fuck. My. Life.
Ever since this girl showed up at my office, everything has been spiraling. I question my work. My hate for my father has doubled. And I have no sense of purpose or action. It’s like I’m drowning in this shitload of doubt.
Doubting what I want to do. Doubting everything I grew up believing since it’s tainted by the man who sired me. Doubting Mia’s intentions.
Come to think of it, Celeste is the only thing in my life that makes me tick. That makes me feel like me, even when she drives me crazy. But even with Celeste, the seed of doubt around her motivations took root.
I make my way to my bedroom at the end of the hallway, stopping briefly at Celeste’s door. The vision of her sprawled in the armchair downstairs reading brings a smile to my face, and I raise my hand to knock, then freeze.
Crossing the threshold of her room would offset the delicate balance of our arrangement. She was right when she pointed out that a one-night stand isn’t an option for us.
With an unexpected jolt of regret, I drop my hand and retire to my room. Plopping into my bed, I turn on the TV and mindlessly click through the channels, while my mind circles through the mess my life currently is.
Maybe I should take Xander up on the offer to go clubbing. It might not put things into perspective, but it might help reset my brain, and stop the thoughts of Celeste.
Corm Quinn doesn’t want to budge on the additional five percent, and I might need to pull out of the negotiation. Failing.
Mia would rather watch paint dry than bond with me. And I have no idea how to be a father to her.
And then there’s my wife, who I don’t hate as much as I used to. Who is a welcome distraction from all the other shit. And who I still failed to fuck.
I turn on my phone’s screen. Great, I’ve been organizing my thoughts for almost an hour, and I’m nowhere close to resolving anything.
I swing my legs over and decide another whiskey might help me fall asleep. I go downstairs and enjoy two inches of the amber liquid while watching the city flickering below me.
The house is silent, but my mind remains focused on the two people upstairs. A graceful femme fatale who I would very much like to devour, and an aloof almost-teenager who I simultaneously wish I still didn’t know about, and hate that I didn’t for so long.
What a fucking twist of fate that these two are my family now. At least on paper.
When my mother joined my father in the vow to never speak to any of their children, I didn’t consider it a loss. But with Finn having a baby, and Saar being abroad most of the time, something was missing.
Not that I used to hang out with my parents much, but there was a sense of belonging to a family, an obligation to show up .
I wish I knew how to transfer that obligation to the two women sleeping upstairs.
Putting my glass down, I make my way up and stop on the last step, catching a glimpse of green silk.
Celeste is standing in front of Mia’s room. I approach carefully to find the door is slightly ajar, Mia sleeping peacefully.
My wife came to check on my daughter. Given our real circumstances, the scene is outlandish. And yet a warm feeling spreads across my chest.
Celeste slowly closes the door and turns to leave when she collides with me and yelps. I cover her mouth, and we stare at each other for several beats before I’m sure she won’t scream.
She fits so well against me that my cock salutes, having a mind of its own. She’s not wearing makeup and it makes her eyes shine brighter, the emerald in them glimmering.
The hallway is dim, the city lights coming through the large windows above the glass banister overlooking the living room. But even cast in the shadows, her beauty is somehow more obvious, the lack of makeup giving her an air of innocence.
I crash my lips against hers, and she tenses at first, but then grants me access and joins in the wild dance of our tongues. The woman is an excellent kisser .
Kissing has always been a required part of foreplay for me, but I can stand here and kiss Celeste Delacroix for hours and thoroughly enjoy myself. Enjoy us.
The thought hits an emergency button in my head, and I pull away. Celeste is flushed and breathless, staring at me with enough heat to set us on fire.
Before I can apply any form of logic, she cups my dick and hums. Like a man possessed, I drag her to the door of her room, then halt. I might be ready to explode, but I’m not crossing that threshold.
I pin her against the wall, jerking my hips against her. I cup her throat, angling her to me. Her breath hitches, her heartbeat pumping against my palm.
“Okay, black swan, you won this round.” I drag my nose across her cheek, inhaling the aphrodisiac this woman is.
Yanking the sash of her glimmering robe, I find her wearing that flimsy camisole from earlier. Only she shed the rest of the outfit, no longer wearing the garters and stocking. And no bra.
I groan, cupping her heavy breasts. Fuck, she is perfect.
“What did I win?” She pants the whispered words.
“I’m the one getting on my knees this time.” I pinch her nipple through the camisole and kneel.
I smirk when her eyes widen. “Caleb, let’s go to my room,” she hisses, pulling the sides of her robe together in some unreasonable quest for modesty. “We could wake up Mia.”
“You just have to be quiet, black swan.”
She almost falls as I lift her leg over my shoulder. My actions might be unhinged and reckless, but the minute her nails graze my skull as she fists my hair for support, I forget where we are.
Because if I thought no bra had turned me into a caveman, the encounter with her naked pussy just undoes me. No panties.
Flattening my tongue, I have a first taste of my wife. My wife . Fuck.
She moans. Not too loud, but in the silence of the apartment, the breathy sound booms. I lean back on my haunches.
“You taste like the garden of Eden. I need more, so be a good girl and keep quiet, or I’ll have to gag you.”
“Or we can just go to my—”
Her words die on her lips as I dive back in, teasing and playing with her sensitive bud before I sink two digits into her heat.
Fuck, I could feast on her forever and die a happy man. The thought shakes me, and I almost recoil, but her whimper draws me in.
Never have I given pleasure with such dedication. Never have I felt so much satisfaction from a woman’s reactions.
It might be because she resisted for so long. Or because I persisted in teasing her when we were forced to share space. Or just the prolonged anticipation.
But simply having her like this feels like the endgame. My dick hardens in protest, reminding me this is just foreplay.
It doesn’t take long before I feel her clenching around my fingers while she pushes her hips forward shamelessly.
I look up and, fuck, the sight is worth half of my assets. Celeste is moaning into her fist, her hooded gaze sultry.
I reach to squeeze her breast and twist her nipple, and she clenches, gripping my fingers in a vice-like hold as her climax takes over. I keep pumping my fingers and massage her clit as she rides the wave, but soon I have to use both my hands to support her because her legs give in.
Standing up, I push the neckline of the camisole down, exposing her large breasts. “I need to taste these as well.”
I take one pebbled peak into my mouth like it’s my only lifeline. Her soft gasp gives me an unreasonable jolt of satisfaction .
I rise to kiss her mouth, still holding her for support.
“I can’t believe I let you do this,” she whispers.
“Complaining, black swan?” I nip at her earlobe.
“Oh, I want more, but here? What were you thinking?” She holds the back of my neck, berating me, but keeping me close at the same time.
“I was thinking you’re my wife, and I have the right to fuck you.”
“Now who is from the eighteenth century? Your right is limited by my consent.”
“I don’t remember you stopping me. Or was pushing your hips into my face, almost suffocating me, an attempt to escape?”
Even in the darkened space, with city lights flickering on the wall around us, I can see her cheeks color. “Asshole.”
“There she is.” I smirk, and I know I should leave it at that, but my cock is painfully trying to burst through my briefs and my sweatpants.
Tonight’s encounter started recklessly, so why would we tone it down?
“Wait here.”
She’s about to say something, but I kiss it away from her lips.
“Stay fucking here, Celeste, or I’ll punish you.” I take her lips again. “With or without consent. ”
Okay, clearly my dick took over my brain yet again, but by the flash of excitement in her eyes, it didn’t take it too far.
Dashing to my room, I return with a condom in my pocket. A normal person would move the events to one of our bedrooms, but I’m me.
And if I’m going to finally enjoy Celeste Delacroix, I need it with a dash of daring carelessness.
“What are you—”
I kiss her again because I’m done with banter. “I need you to be silent for a little longer.”
I yank her across the hallway, then whip her around and push her against the banister, her back to my chest.
“Caleb—” She moans as I squeeze her breasts and sags into me. “We really shouldn’t. Not here.”
“Tell me you want me to stop, black swan.” I move her hair away and kiss her neck, nibbling my way down to her shoulder while I play with her nipples.
She melts into me, raising her hand and fisting my hair again, holding me in place. I guess that’s my answer.
“Caleb, she can’t find us like this.”
“She won’t if you keep quiet.”
“This is madness.” Her words ring of protest, but her body tells a different story.
I’ve always been an unhinged bastard, avoiding bedrooms because they brought on boredom, but this is next-level recklessness even for me. But I can’t stop.
I rip the wrapper with my teeth and sheath my engorged length. “Celeste, tell me the danger, the anticipation of being caught doesn’t thrill you, and I’ll stop.”
She pants, her breasts heaving in my hands, but she doesn’t say anything. I fist my cock with one hand, and with the other, I push her between her shoulder blades. She bends slightly, her arms landing on the railing and her hips pushing against me.
I lift her robe and lean over her, whispering in her ear. “What’s it going to be, black swan? Should I stop?” I nudge my tip between her folds.
Her head falls forward and she stifles a moan. “I’m going to divorce you for this. Be quick.”
I chuckle, and in one thrust I plunge into her. Fuck, she’s tight. I pause, allowing her to adjust.
“Merde,” she gasps and bites her forearm.
Her robe slides and covers the spot where we’re connected. As much as I’d like to watch, the silky green cover softens the threat of our location, adding a touch of privacy.
Or that’s what I’m trying to tell myself. Because as much as I enjoy sex with a dash of risk, this feels different.
Firstly, my daughter is behind the door. Our nonexistent relationship would certainly get derailed if she walked out. A part of me knows that’s not probable, but an unfamiliar, newly born conscience sprouts guilt.
And guilt has never invaded my mind before. Even after reckless liaisons that Cressard had to bail me out of.
“Harder,” Celeste hisses.
And therein lies the second novelty. This woman isn’t like any other. She takes with abandon, chasing her own pleasure.
Most women in my life try too hard to please me. To make sure they earn a chance at a second time or more. My affection. My commitment.
Celeste isn’t like that. Perhaps because she’s stuck with me, so she doesn’t have to perform to get that next-day call. But it’s not just that.
Every move. Every thrust. Every touch. She takes them without inhibition. She welcomes them like she deserves them. Like she knows her value.
While I have her in this position, at my mercy, I still sense her autonomy. And fuck if that isn’t the hottest thing ever.
“Your pussy takes me so well.” I dig my fingers into her delicious hips.
I move in a frenzy, drowning in this woman who has been getting under my skin for weeks now.
With my hand, I trail up her spine, her soft skin like silk under my fingertips. And since when am I noticing details like that?
Suddenly, I’m annoyed by the spell she cast over me. I fist her hair and pound into her like she’s my enemy.
Because with all the feelings sex with Celeste stirs in me, she is an enemy. I don’t need her uprooting my deeply encoded habits.
Sex is just sex. I keep repeating the mantra, the city lights blurring in front of me.
Celeste stifles a cry, her walls clenching around my cock. She sags against the banister, coming, and chanting something French into her forearm.
“Bend over, fingers on the floor,” I order.
She looks at me over her shoulder, and fuck, I wish I could take a picture. She’s breathtaking, with her dazed gaze, swollen lips, and the background of the city that never sleeps.
“Show me that dancer body of yours, black swan.”
She smiles languidly and then bends forward, her fists touching the floor by her feet. Fuck, she’s flexible. With her folded like that, my cock sinks so deep I grunt, and it takes me only a few frantic thrusts before an explosion of pleasure rages through me.
“And still you didn’t scream my name,” I say, mostly to distract myself from the assault of thoughts and feelings pouring through my mind .
She pushes away, glancing at Mia’s door while she tries to cover herself, pulling the sides of her robe together. She spots the sash where it dropped earlier and dashes to pick it up.
I tuck myself into my pants, feeling strangely lonely as my arousal slowly evaporates. Fuck. My legs move before my brain decides.
I open Mia’s door softly. Lying across her bed, she has her arms and legs sprawled like she’s making snow angels, her covers on the floor.
An unfamiliar feeling nudges me forward. I tiptoe into the room and pick up the duvet. For the first time in my life, I tuck my daughter in.
Careful not to wake her, I watch her for a beat. Deep in her sleep, she looks innocent and much younger. And so fucking like me.
When I turn, Celeste stands in the doorway, a ghost of a smile fighting with a scowl on her face. I close the door behind me.
“That was reckless,” she hisses.
“And yet you didn’t stop me.”
Pulling her to me, I nudge her chin to turn her face to me. I seize her lips and kiss her.
To thank her for playing this lewd game with me.
To apologize for dragging her into a conflicting situation.
To ensure her that I’ve got her back, even though my behavior tonight contradicts that.
And most importantly, to enjoy her for a short moment longer before I let her go.
Because having sex with her was supposed to be the endgame. And I’m sticking to that.