Chapter 33
CAL
We decide on a walk after I park outside her place.
She's still buzzing from the wine and the night and the look on Rome's face, which she's replayed for me twice now with increasing theatrical detail.
Her cheeks are pink from the cold, her nose is red and she keeps laughing into my shoulder, and every time she does I feel it in my ribs like a bruise I never want to heal.
She kicks her boots off at the door and I catch her by the waist before she gets two steps in, pulling her back against me. She turns in my arms, and I kiss her because I've been sitting beside her for hours without being able to do this and I'm done waiting.
She kisses me back lazily and slowly, her fingers curling into the front of my shirt, pulling me with her as she walks backward into the apartment. My hands find her hips as her back hits the hallway wall and she laughs bright and delighted, and completely unrepentant.
"You're a menace," I tell her.
"I'm a delight, and you know it."
I chuckle against her mouth. Yeah, she fucking is.
"I can't believe you called me Daddy in front of your brother."
She giggles into the kiss and I swallow the sound, let the lightness spread inside me. She eases everything heavy in me. I don't think I'll ever get used to it.
"I sure did."
"He just started to not be a miserable grump." I kiss her jaw. Her neck. The spot below her ear where I've learned she loves to be touched.
"Weeks of measured, fragile progress. And you blew it up because you thought it would be funny."
"It was very funny."
She's pulling at my shirt, tugging it up, and I let her. She runs her hands up my stomach, across my chest, her palms warm from being tucked in her pockets.
"You should have seen your face."
"I was there. I felt my face."
She giggles again and fondness moves through me, helpless and warm.
”I’m glad you enjoyed it," I say as sternly as I can. I pull her sweater over her head and she raises her arms to help, her hair falling everywhere.
When she emerges she's grinning at me like a woman who has absolutely no plans to behave herself in this lifetime or the next.
"You know what I think?" She starts on my belt, her fingers nimble and confident, knowing their way around this particular buckle by now.
"I think you loved the Daddy comment."
"I did not love the Daddy comment," I scold her.
I think I loved the Daddy comment. I'm still not sure if my mind is made up about it.
"I think you loved it and you're embarrassed that you loved it and that combination is making you very, very tense." She pulls the belt free in one smooth motion and tosses it behind her. It hits the floor somewhere.
"Maybe I'll call you Daddy when I suck your cock. See if that helps with the tension."
She's got me equal parts mortified and aroused, which is a combination I hadn't experienced before her, and now experience on a near-daily basis.
"Is that what you want?" My voice comes out rough. I know very well she doesn't mind.
"My cock in your mouth?"
Her eyes darken and that is answer enough.
"I'm gagging for it, Callahan."
Motherfucker.
She's going to be the death of me, that I know for certain. She's so sure of herself, so certain she's going to get what she wants because she almost always does and I almost always give it to her. But not tonight.
"No."
Her eyebrows rise. "No?"
"You got what you wanted already." I walk her backward toward the bedroom, my hands on her waist, guiding, steady.
"You had your fun with the Daddy stunt."
I unclasp her bra and it falls between us. "Now it's time for my birthday gift."
"Your birthday was yesterday." She makes a face, calculating. "Technically, the day before yesterday."
"I'm collecting late."
I pick her up and carry her into the bedroom and throw her onto the bed. She bounces, her hair fanning out across the pillows and her face.
I stand at the edge of the bed and pull her jeans down her legs. She's wearing underwear that is small and black and completely pointless, a scrap of fabric that exists only to be removed. I hook my fingers under the edges and slide it down slowly, watching her watch me.
For a moment I don't move. I just take her in. Bare and flushed and watching me with dark eyes, spread across her own pillows like she belongs there. Like she belongs to me.
I start at her throat, kiss the hollow there, the ridge of her collarbone, the flat of her sternum between her breasts. She arches into it, her hands finding my hair.
I kiss lower. The soft curve beneath her breast, the dip of her waist. The mark below her left rib that I know by heart now, that I could find in the dark, that belongs to me the way everything about her belongs to me.
She writhes beneath me, her thighs parting, her hips grinding against me, needing more. Her hands fist in my hair, pulling me closer even as she gasps.
"Callahan..." Her moans are edged with that sleepy whine that makes my balls tighten.
"Fuck, if you keep that up, I'm gonna come already."
Her body is trembling with the building tension. I drag my mouth lower, nudging her thighs open with my shoulders. She's already swollen, wet, glistening in the low light from the window. The sight alone makes my cock throb painfully.
I settle between her legs, my palms firm on her hips. "You are so fucking wet already," I tell her, my voice thick with want.
"I am twenty-three, I am always wet," she sasses back.
Satisfaction hits me, dark and pleased. I slap her cunt hard, and her scream is fucking music to my ears. So I do it again, and again.
I'm salivating now. There's no other word for it. I lower my mouth to her and dive in without hesitation, burying my face in her cunt like a man starved because I always will be when it comes to her.
My tongue flattens to lap broad strokes from her entrance up to her clit. I take my mouth away and she protests immediately. Good. She's almost exactly where I need her to be. Lost. To me.
I spit on her clit, using my saliva to drag my thumb up and down, from clit to entrance. My girl likes it soft and wet.
"Oh, my God," she pants. "What are you…oh, my God."
She is thrashing on the bed, and I know she is close.
I eat and eat, unable to get enough. Her hips roll against my face and her hand grips the sheets and her breathing comes in ragged, broken sounds that fill the apartment.
I take all of it — every sound, every shudder, every desperate little scream when I bring her closer and deny her.
Her pussy clenches desperately against my tongue, and I feel more of her juices leaking as she begs and cries.
"You can be such a good little slut, you know that?"
"Please, baby, just let me…"
"Now this is more like it, begging for it like a whore in heat," I growl, then lean in to suck her clit hard between my lips, flicking it with my tongue until she arches off the bed.
"But fuck, you're so goddamn perfect, tasting like heaven while you fall apart for me."
I push two fingers inside her slowly, watching her mouth fall open on a silent cry.
She's so wet I can hear it, that slick, obscene sound that goes straight to my cock every single time without fail.
I curl them, searching, and find the spot that makes her hips buck off the bed like I've pulled a wire.
"There," she gasps. "Right there, don't….God, don't stop…"
I don't stop. I work her open, my fingers crooked just right while my mouth stays on her clit, and I feel her tighten around me like she's trying to keep me there, like her body is making an argument her mouth hasn't finished yet.
She's gripping me so hard it's madness, and I would let her break my fingers if it meant she kept making that sound. How she can feel this good, every single time, is something I have stopped trying to understand.
"Callahan, baby, I'm coming, I'm coming..."
Curling my fingers up, I latch on, swirling my tongue against her clit in that light way she loves, but my fingers inside her are not gentle.
She comes with her back arched off the bed and my name on her lips, both hands fisting the sheets so hard I hear the fabric strain.
And then she breaks apart in a way she never has before. She gushes against my mouth. Wet and hot and flooding my tongue, soaking my chin, dripping down my neck. Her whole body convulses, her thighs shaking violently on either side of my face.
The sound she makes is something torn from her, raw and shocked and utterly ruined. I groan against her pussy, drinking her down, and the sight of her like this, the taste of her flooding my mouth, the way she's breaking so completely... I can't stop it.
I'm so hard it hurts and I'm grinding against the mattress without meaning to, my hips moving on their own, and then I'm coming, too. Spilling against her sheets like a teenager, untouched, just from the taste of her and the sound of her and the knowledge that I did this to her.
I work her through it with my tongue as I let my own orgasm wash over me, until she's pulling me away, oversensitive and gasping, her body still twitching with aftershocks.
I'm still shuddering myself, my cock throbbing against the ruined sheets, my whole body wrung out. I kiss the inside of her thigh, wipe my mouth against her skin and crawl up her body with great difficulty.
My limbs aren't working properly. My brain has gone offline. She finally did it. She actually killed me.
She's destroyed, and staring at the ceiling like she's forgotten what planet she's on. Good. Maybe I killed her a little, too.
"Did I just..." She can't finish the sentence, her eyes wide with mortification.
"Yup," I rasp, proud. "You did."
"I've never squirted before," she giggles and I want to eat her again.
"And did you..."
"Against your sheets, like a fucking teenager."
I study the wonder in her eyes, the way she's watching me like I've unlocked something she didn't know existed.
"Happy birthday to me and you," I grin.