Chapter 60
ALEJANDRA
Heavenly Kind of State of Mind - Lewis Capaldi
For someone who had lived her life on the road, taking flights with absurd frequency shouldn’t have been a problem, but lately, she had boarded way too many for her liking.
And now, still buzzing slightly from the lingering effects of rebujito two days later, they were back at Gatwick, picked up by Lamina’s personal driver, and heading to Callum’s flat in Victoria Park.
"How do you feel?" she asked, studying his face carefully.
Callum had been quieter than usual since his mother’s call, like his thoughts were stuck in a spiral he couldn’t quite escape.
Discovering you had a father—a world-famous surf legend with, apparently, a serious addiction—only to have him die days after finding out…
yeah, that would probably mess with anyone's head.
She just wanted to resurrect Mick Turner, impale him on a surfboard, and toss him into the deepest part of the ocean.
She blinked.
Maybe Sofia was right, she really did read too many fantasy novels. Still, anyone who had hurt her boyfriend, the literal greenest flag on Earth, deserved to rot in hell. Mick Turner, once her idol, had now officially made it to her Death Note list. Too bad he was already dead.
"I just wish we’d stayed back in Seville," Callum muttered. "I’d rather handle a heatstroke while drinking rebujito,” he had mastered that word now, “than a family reunion with someone I’ve never met."
"Is your mother coming?"
"Nope. I’ve got to handle this one solo, like a big boy." He snorted, clearly more annoyed than he was letting on. "I just wanted to lie on the beach in Conil with you. Quiet time. But fuck me if life ever gives me a minute."
"I’m sorry," she said, squeezing his hand. "We’ll make up for it. Promise."
"I hope so. I spoke with Asma and Leif on the phone. I asked for a full sabbatical year after I’ve explained everything about Mick. They agreed, obviously. I think the ‘my estranged father just died’ card helped a bit to convince Asma."
"Did you finally ask them about what’s going on between them?” Alejandra asked. She had been dying to know what had happened after they left them at the pub, but Callum was a man who respected his friends too much and didn’t want to intrude, even though she could see he was dying to know too.
“Yep.”
“And? Do I have to carve it out of you?”
Callum smirked. Oh, he was enjoying it. The power he held with that information.
“Venga ya,” she almost begged.
He chuckled. “Asma told me they are giving themselves a chance, so I guess it went well.”
Alejandra fist-pumped into the sky. “I knew it.” She loved when love won. She had felt like that even when Sofia had finally admitted she loved Ilias. God, that had been even longer and painful to watch.
He smiled, running his hand over her knee. Then, her mind went back to the main reason they were back in London. "Did you find anything about your half-sister?"
He shook his head. "Nothing. Supposedly, he didn’t have any family. Lone wolf type."
"More like an asshole. I looked up to him. And as much as he was a phenomenal surfer, he was a horrible person."
Callum gave a small shrug.
"You can be mean to him, you know. He was an asshole with you back in Ericeira."
"I... I don’t want to be. I mean, what kind of miserable life must you be living to overdose alone? To have lawyers sort out your legacy because you couldn't face your own kids?"
"You’re too pure for this world," Alejandra teased.
He deadpanned her.
"I’m actually surprised only two kids came out of it," she added.
"Yeah. That surprised me too."
"What do you think he left you in the will?"
"I have no idea. I saw online that he owned a bunch of stuff, but honestly, it'd be crazy to leave it all to people he never even met."
"The wave pool ranch in Arizona sounds fun, though. If you ever decide to open it up just for me, I won’t say no." Alejandra grinned, eyes glinting.
"Already using me for my inheritance? Isn’t it a bit soon, Alejandra?" He winked, and damn it if that didn't turn her on more than the Andalusian sun ever could. “But if it means helping you get back to surfing, I’d do anything for you, cariad.”
She bit her lip and leaned in, glancing toward the front. The driver, thankfully, was focused on the road. If she just moved her hand...
"Alejandra," Callum hissed when she cupped his cock through his grey sweats.
Green flag dressed like a red one. Just how she liked him. "Doesn’t this car have a partition or something?" she whispered in his ear.
With a quick push of a button, a black screen glided up between them and the driver, sealing them into their own private world.
Alejandra smirked, her fingers slithering under the fabric, wrapping around his length, watching the way his head tipped back against the seat, throat exposed, vulnerable.
His Adam’s apple bobbed, breath hitching, and her gaze lingered there, on the marks she’d already left, faint but still visible. Not enough.
Never enough.
She leaned in closer, her hand pumping him as her lips slightly brushed the tip of his cock, savoring the way his body reacted instantly to her. Every muscle tightening, every breath turning heavier. His hand found her hair, fingers threading through it, holding her in place.
“Alejandra…” he breathed, her name breaking out of him like a warning and a plea all at once.
Wrapping her mouth around his cock, elicited a moan out of him.
She moved slow. Intentional. Teasing the line between control and surrender, between giving him what he needed and making him wait for it.
His grip tightened slightly, his other hand bracing against the seat as tension coiled tighter and tighter in his body.
The car hummed softly around them, the city lights flickering through the tinted glass, but inside—everything narrowed to the space between them. To the heat. The closeness. The way he was unraveling under her touch.
Hollowing her cheeks, she sucked his cock, bringing it to the end of her throat, bumping against it, making him tighten the grip on her hair even more. Fuck, she loved it. The power she felt, and yet, still being at his mercy.
“Careful…” he muttered, voice low, strained, though there was no real resistance in it. Just awareness. Just that edge.
She didn’t answer. Just kept going, slow and steady, watching him fall apart piece by piece.
“I’m coming,” he warned her. She wasn’t going to stop, she wanted to take every single last drop of him.
And when the salty taste entered her mouth, she sucked even more.
Callum took a sharp inhale, a low groan he tried to swallow down, his head tipping forward, forehead almost brushing hers as the tension subsided.
For a second, neither of them moved.
Then Alejandra pulled back slightly, lips curving into something wicked, satisfied, as she licked her lips, her eyes still locked on his.
“You’re such a tease.” Breath still uneven, dragging a hand down his face.
“Feeling calmer?” she asked, voice light, but her gaze knowing.
“Fuck yeah.” He exhaled, letting his head fall back again, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. “You always know exactly how to take the edge off.”
They both laughed—soft, easy, like the storm had passed.
But the air between them didn’t cool.
If anything, it shifted. She didn’t protest as his hand pulled down her pants, pulled to the side her panties, and took possession of her pussy.
He started mapping her out like he already knew every reaction she’d give him.
And he did. The way her breath caught. The way her body leaned into him without thinking as her legs parted even more and he entered two fingers into her.
“Brenhines…” he murmured against her lips this time, closing the distance, swallowing every sound she tried to make. The kiss was slow at first. Then not.
His touch turned precise, building her up the same way she had done to him—patient, controlled, relentless in its own quiet way. Her fingers curled into his shirt, clutching, her body tightening as she tried to stay quiet, to keep it contained.
He didn’t let her.
Not completely.
With his other hand he found her nipple and played with it, as he pumped into her and teased her clit. She loved it, how she could still feel powerful when she was completely at his mercy. How she trusted him with everything, and how he understood her body.
“Come, now,” he ordered as her entire body tensed and then released, dancing stars in her eyes.
By the time the car slowed near his building, her head was resting against his shoulder, breath uneven, lips parted, his hand still lazily tracing patterns against her skin like he wasn’t quite done yet. Like he never really was.
“Yeah,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “Much better.”
And the smirk she gave him back promised they were far from finished. She couldn’t wait to keep his mind busy until the freaking appointment with the lawyer.