Chapter 16 #3
Closing my mouth, I breathe through my nose, trying to tamp down my desire. Why don’t I just lie? Everything with him is a lie anyway. I knew we would fuck. He’d try to get me into bed because sex is his weapon, but I honestly didn’t think about this part.
When I don’t reply, he looks up at me. His eyebrows dig in, realization crossing his face.
“You want to…?” His chest rises and falls in shallow breaths. “I can…”
“No.” I blink.
I don’t want to be on top. I like him inside me.
I whisper, “Just…go slowly, okay?”
I want to see his face—hear him—when he fucks me.
Climbing off the bed, I rush to lock the door and push down my clothes as he follows.
Standing up, he strips off his pants and grabs me, bringing his mouth in, but he doesn’t kiss me this time.
He pushes me onto the bed and comes down on my back.
His lips dive everywhere. The back of my neck, my ear, those muscles he loves around my spine…
I reach over to the bedside table and grab a condom, catching us in the mirror to the left, above my other dresser. Dallas looks down at me, breathing hard as he rakes a hand through the back of my hair and rolls his hips into me.
I close my eyes, feeling his cock sweat cum.
Goddamn him.
I wish he was anyone else.
I hand him the packet, gasping as he sucks on my ear. Chills break out everywhere as I find the oil, pulling over the nightstand as I yank it out. It topples to the floor, my lamp crashing. I wince, hoping it didn’t wake Sophia.
He closes his fist around mine, the pulse in my head throbbing in my ears. Slowly, he pries the tube out of my hand.
He never stops touching me, his mouth licking and biting down my back as he sits up.
He kneads my hip, barely making a sound as he flips open the lid.
I don’t even hear him gather any oil, but when he rubs a finger over me, massaging me, I can feel the wetness.
He keeps going until the tension leaves my muscles, and it starts to feel good.
Turning my eyes to the mirror, I watch him stroke his glistening cock with his other hand as he stares down at me. The tube of oil is gone.
He presses his finger into me, and I clench up but force myself to relax. He slips in and out, just a little, and I hear the wrapper rip open and listen to him roll it on.
He comes down and slides his fingers into my hair. “Tell me you want it, Golden Boy. Say my name.”
I smile. “You know, I love how you used to come here to clean our pool,” I taunt. “And you’re still coming here to service me.”
He thrusts against me, rocking softly, his rock-hard dick teasing me. “Is this what you want?”
My head feels like it’s floating, and I gasp. “Yes, please.”
He lies on my back, fitting the head of his cock at my entrance, pushing through my tight muscle. I stretch, burning as he stops just inside, my body flexing at the feel of his thick head.
Fuck.
Dragging the tip of his tongue up the ridge of my ear, he moans, “You’re so tight, I don’t think I can get myself out of you.”
I laugh, relaxing. I won’t admit it to him, but my pride soars a little.
And what a thought. Him stuck to me for life.
Adjusting to him, I breathe as he continues to suck on my lobe, my jaw, my neck…
“You ready?” he asks.
Fuck yes.
He slides all the way in, and I forget to breathe for a second as I take him.
Slow but steady, he pulls out and thrusts back in, increasing his speed.
In moments, he’s riding me. I clench the pillows, hanging on as he fills me over and over again, the discomfort turning into pleasure as I start to feel him hit just where I love.
In a minute, I’m thrusting back into him. “Oh, fuck,” I moan.
I learned quickly that I don’t ejaculate when I come this way, and Dallas has stamina. If he lasts long enough, I can come multiple times.
Leaning down, he kisses me, still rolling his hips. The sweat on his chest glides against the sweat on my back.
“God,” he whispers in my ear. “I want to come inside of you so badly.”
And I’m taken back to the one time I let him before.
“I fucking hate you for this.” He trembles behind me, pressing me to the outside wall of Mariette’s. “No one feels like you.”
We were so caught up that night, we didn’t have a rubber and didn’t want to wait.
I’m clean, so he must’ve been, too. At least back then.
I’m not letting him take off the condom now, though. He can go fuck himself.
He hisses, riding me hard, and I watch him in the mirror.
One arm, steel-rod straight, holding him up as he grips my waist with the other hand, pumping his cock, and I’m mesmerized.
His tight abs. The slopes and curves of his flexed arms. The sweat wetting his hair, which bobs over his eyes as he rides me. His open mouth draws in hard breaths.
My orgasm builds, taunting the edges of my body—my arms, my legs, the hair on the back of my neck—and I almost smile, it feels so good. Curling my fists into the pillows, I tense everything and hold my breath, squeezing my eyes shut as it explodes, washing over every inch of my skin.
“Ah.” But I can’t do anything more than that, my whole body soaking up the adrenaline and release.
I don’t realize I’m reaching back to his neck and holding him to my body until I let my forehead fall to the bed. His cock throbs inside me.
Turning my eyes to the mirror, I see him staring down at me, watching me.
Goddammit. I’d almost forgotten how good that felt. It’s not the same as spilling cum. It takes over everything.
Before the orgasm has left my body, he pulls out and turns me over. I flip, lying on my back, tugging the comforter, and pulling it over my groin.
But he yanks it out of my hand, uncovering me again as he comes down on me. Nestling between my legs, he kisses me, moving from my mouth to my forehead to my neck, chest, and stomach. Holding his head to my body, I let the chills spread over my skin.
Fuck. My eyes sting, and I can’t take in a full breath. I wish he’d stop. I can’t take it. “What are you doing?” I murmur.
He rises up, pushing my knees open. “I’m doing it again,” he whispers, sliding back inside of me. “And again—until you say my name.”
I’m not calling him Dallas in bed. We’re not making love.
“By all means…” He stretches me again, and I force deep breaths in. “I can keep coming like this. You can’t.
“But I do have all night, Mr. Ames.” He smiles down at me, making my stomach flip. “I might like this curfew, after all.”
Shit.
One arm out to his side and another next to my head, he pumps his cock in me, thrusting deep and fast. I plant my hands behind me, using the headboard for leverage, and watch him. His abs flex as he rolls his hips, his brow pinching together and his mouth falling open in pleasure.
He pushes my chin back, taking my eyes off of him as he breathes into my neck. “Oh, God,” he groans. “Callum.”
Circling my hand around the back of his neck, I hold him to me. “Good boy.”
He pumps deeper, and I blink long and hard, moaning. This is what he is. A fucking servant. Grabbing the headboard, he increases speed, gazing down at me.
My second orgasm builds. “Next time you’re in my fucking house, I’ll have you arrested.”
I’d like that to be true, and maybe it is.
He just breathes out a laugh. “After I give you my dick that you love, of course.”
Of course.
God, I fucking hate him.
—
Hot water cascades down my face, sweat and the stench from the Wolfe Room spilling down the drain.
I can barely keep my eyes open, but I know I can’t sleep.
Every muscle—even ones I forgot I had—aches and burns, but I don’t care.
I enjoyed that more than anything in a long time.
Sophia gets to retreat into her delusional world for a sliver of happiness; I don’t see why I can’t do the same.
Even if just for tonight.
Shutting off the shower, I step out and grab a fresh towel, drying off. Smoke drifts through my nostrils, and I wrap the towel around my waist, walking out of the bathroom. Dallas sits on the balcony, a stream of cigarette smoke trailing up from his fingers.
I slip through the curtains and come around him, leaning back on the railing and holding out my fingers.
Pinching the butt, he holds it up to me. They’re mine anyway. He must’ve found them in my bedside table. I suck a drag, the sting in my lungs sharp. I only smoke a few a year. These have long expired.
I hand it back to him.
“What happened to Anna-Katherine?” he asks.
So that’s what we’re doing now? Having a friendly conversation?
“Let’s come to an agreement.” I blow out the smoke. “I won’t fall for you, and you don’t pretend you give a shit about anything.”
In my delusional world, he’s obsessed with me like I was with him.
In reality, I could be anyone to him.
He lowers his eyes. “I like her.”
“But you’d use her.” I plant my hands on the railing behind me, staring down at him. “Believe me, I know.”
My emotions blinded me four years ago. I know what we’re all capable of.
“I am sorry about Liv,” I state. “I know what this is and what it isn’t. I didn’t back then.”
His brow falters as if he’s fucking aggravated that I’m not confused about us anymore.
He hands me the cigarette again. “Tell my sister that.”
I arch an eyebrow. As if I’m the only one who should apologize for the past. Asshole.
I suck in air through my nose, taking another puff before handing him the cigarette back to finish. “I’m not calling off the curfew,” I tell him.
We fucked, but nothing else changes.
He takes one last drag, gazing up at me. “And you’re not getting the Bay.”
I smile, hoping he’d say that. I look forward to proving him wrong.
He snuffs out the cigarette and looks up at me, dropping his eyes down my chest and stomach.
His towel hugs his own waist, his hair still wet from his second shower tonight.
“We’ve got a couple of hours,” I say. “Can we do it again?”
His eyes lift to mine, a smile curling his lips.
Rising, he leads the way back into the bedroom, knowing things will change once the sun comes up. May as well get some use out of each other while we can.