Chapter 21 #3
“It can wait.”
I laughed again, and his face softened with such open pleasure that my chest ached. His hands moved to my knees, easing them apart with patient certainty as much as he was able, which was not much in this skirt. He stared into my eyes, and I bit my lip.
“Tell me,” he commanded, voice low.
My pulse leapt. “Tell you what?”
“That you want this.”
I looked at him, almost smiling. “I just agreed to marry you.”
“I know.”
“I changed into the skirt.”
“I know.”
“And you still need me to say it?”
“Yes.”
My throat tightened and I touched his face with my left hand, the ring brushing against his jaw.
“I want this,” I answered him. “I want you. I want us. I want to argue with you about work and toothpaste, let you take me to dinner and wear pencil skirts that make you forget your own rules. I want you to put me over your knee when I need it and show me no mercy. I want you on me and in me in any way you want. I want all of it. I want all of you.”
His eyes closed briefly and when he opened them, the control in him was still there. It would always be there. But now it belonged to both of us.
“Good.”
He lowered his mouth to mine again, and the city, the scandal, the old grief, the glass walls, the photographs, the headlines, the frightened girl with the bad resume and the impossible crush, all of it fell away until there was only candlelight, his hands, my ring, and the black pencil skirt he did not tear because I had asked him not to. He was careful, but he was not gentle.
“Stand up for me,” he commanded when his mouth finally left mine.
I stood on shaky legs.
“Take off your skirt.” The words sounded more dangerous now, lower, deeper. “Slowly.”
With trembling fingers, I unzipped the pencil skirt and slowly pushed it down my hips and thighs, stepping out of it one leg at a time. I was bare underneath, just as I had been that first time in his office.
“Perfect,” he growled, his eyes dark with hunger. “Now the blouse.”
I unbuttoned the ivory blouse, letting it fall open to reveal my naked breasts, my nipples already peaked with desire. I slid it off my shoulders and let it pool on the floor beside the skirt, leaving me in only my red heels and nothing else.
He circled me slowly, his gaze devouring every inch of my exposed skin.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, stopping behind me.
His hands slid up my arms, sending shivers down my spine.
His words made me shudder with anticipation.
He pressed against my back, his erection hard against my bare ass through his trousers.
One hand slid around to cup my breast, pinching my nipple just enough to make me gasp.
“I’m going to make you come so hard for me, right here in this room,” he whispered in my ear, his other hand sliding down my stomach and settling in between my legs.
“Please,” I breathed, leaning back against him.
He chuckled darkly. “Not yet. First, I’m going to taste what’s mine.
” He turned me around and lifted me onto the table, spreading my legs wide now.
The cool marble against my overheated skin made me gasp.
Callum knelt between my thighs, his eyes never leaving mine as he lowered his mouth to my pussy.
The first touch of his tongue was electric.
I cried out, my hands gripping the edge of the table as he licked and sucked with expert skill.
He knew exactly how to drive me wild, alternating between gentle strokes and firm pressure, his fingers joining his tongue to push me higher and higher into the realm of sheer ecstasy.
“Callum,” I moaned, my hips bucking against his face. “I’m so close.”
He pulled back just enough to speak, his voice rough with desire.
“Not yet. I want you screaming when you come.” Then his mouth was back on me, more relentless than before.
His fingers curled inside me, finding that spot that made my vision white out.
I was teetering on the edge when he suddenly stood, leaving me panting and desperate.
“Turn over,” he ordered, and I scrambled to obey, slipping off the table and bending over it.
I heard him unfasten his belt, the sound making me whimper with need.
Then he was behind me, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance.
He pushed inside me in one smooth stroke, filling me completely.
I cried out at the sensation, my inner walls clenching around him.
He gave me a moment to adjust before setting a punishing rhythm, his hips slamming against my ass with each thrust. The table scraped against the floor with the force of his movements.
“Touch yourself,” he demanded. “I want to feel you come around my cock.”
I reached between my legs, my fingers finding my clit. The dual sensation of his thick cock pounding into me and my own fingers was incredible.
“Oh, Callum,” I moaned, “I’m going to come.”
“Do it,” he growled, his rhythm never faltering. “Come for me, Avery. Show me how much you love being mine.”
His words pushed me over the edge. My orgasm crashed through me, waves of pleasure so intense I screamed his name. My body clenched around him, milking his cock as he continued to thrust through my climax.
“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, his movements becoming erratic. “I’m going to fill you up.”
A few more hard thrusts and he stilled, his cock pulsing inside me as he came with a deep, guttural sound. I could feel the warmth of his release deep inside, marking me as his in the most primal way.
We stayed like that for a moment, both breathing heavily, our bodies still joined. Then he slowly withdrew, turning me to face him. He kissed me deeply, his tongue claiming my mouth as his hands roamed my body possessively.
“I love you,” he murmured against my lips. “My beautiful, brilliant wife-to-be.”
I smiled against his mouth. “I love you too. My controlling, overbearing, perfect husband-to-be.”
* * *
Later, much later, when my blouse was buttoned wrong and my hair was ruined and Callum had used his pocket square to clean a smear of lipstick from the corner of my mouth with the profound concentration of a man restoring a historic masterpiece, I sat at the table again and ate one bite of chocolate tart watching my ring sparkling on my hand.
Callum watched me closely enough to make me squirm.
“What?” I asked.
His mouth curved. “Nothing.”
“That is never true with you.”
“No,” he agreed. “It isn’t.”
I took another bite of tart. “Are you thinking about how to tell Benjamin?”
“I’m thinking Benjamin already knows.”
As if summoned by the unholy power of his own relevance, my phone buzzed.
Benjamin: Congratulations. The staff has been tipped aggressively. The room is cleared until ten. Do not damage private property without notifying me first.
I stared at the message and then another came through.
Benjamin: Also, Dana says if the ring is ugly, she will resign.
I turned the phone so Callum could read it. He sighed and I laughed so hard I nearly dropped the fork. Then my phone buzzed again.
Jules: Are you engaged or dead?
I lifted my left hand, took a picture of the ring and sent it. Her response was immediate, in all caps, and included so many emojis that my phone briefly seemed to reconsider its life choices.
Jules: I KNEW IT. I AM SOBBING. I AM ALSO OFFENDED I WAS NOT HIDING IN A PLANT.
A second later:
Jules: Did you wear the skirt?
I looked at Callum over the phone and he raised an eyebrow.
I typed back: I wore the skirt. Briefly.
I put the phone face down on the table.
Callum’s mouth twitched. “No answer?”
“I’m preserving some mystery.”
“Wise.”
I looked at Callum, at the man who had asked me to marry him and still asked me, even then, what I wanted.
“Yes,” I said softly.
His eyes warmed. “To what?”
I squeezed his hand.
“To all of it.”
And for once, I did not feel like a woman between jobs, between selves, between grief and whatever came after. I felt like I had finally begun the life I had been brave enough to choose.