Chapter 29
Callum
“Is this how it’s going to be?” he asks, walking backward down the hallway to my bedroom, keeping his eyes on me. “You demanding me until you’ve had your fill and then moving on to a new piece of ass in the Bay?”
Please. By the time I’ve had my fill of him, there won’t be anyone left in the Bay to turn out. I can understand his fear, though. I could dominate that entire population now. If I wanted anyone else to suffer what Sophia did.
Would I give it all back if Liv agreed to put on a show for us like I tried to coerce her to do back in high school? I’m curious what her answer would be now, knowing what’s at stake. One night for hundreds of millions of dollars?
In my room, I close the door and remove my jacket. “Get your hair wet,” I instruct. “Everything wet.”
He holds my gaze until he turns around and steps into the bathroom, pulling his shirt off over his head.
Opening my own shirt, I slide it off my arms, kick off my shoes, and pull off my socks.
The shower starts, and I pick up the chair next to my door and walk into the bathroom. Dallas faces me, dropping the rest of his clothes as I set the chair down. His eyes fall to the chain around my neck. It’s the third time he’s looked at it today. Does he like it?
He steps into the walk-in shower, the glass partition shielding me from the spray as he dips his head back, water cascading down his body. “Paying for young men to fuck you,” he says. “And knowing that all they want is your money.”
His stomach draws my gaze, tight and lean, his perfectly carved chest making the skin of my lips hum.
I remember him letting me run my mouth over his torso years ago—biting, kissing, sucking.
It was one of the only times he let me explore instead of getting right down to it.
Lowering my eyes, I see that he’s semi-hard, and I lean back, rubbing my cock through my pants.
“You get older,” he goes on, “the boys get younger.”
I’m not my father.
“The sex feels good,” he tells me, “and then it doesn’t, so you do it more to fill the void.”
“Wash your body.”
I’m not like him, either. Sex isn’t my weapon. Surviving him is, and I want him to see me standing over him just once.
Squeezing my bodywash into his hand, he coats his chest, the suds sliding down the skin. My groin swells with blood, and I keep rubbing.
He watches my hand. “And then one isn’t enough and you’re paying two or three to fuck at a time.”
“Stroke yourself,” I command.
He doesn’t blink as his eyes lock with mine and he pumps his dick. The skin glistens, suds spilling off his shaft. Fuck, I want to ride him.
“Sneaking in and out of hotels,” he taunts, “slipping them out of discreet doors…”
But I shake my head. “No.” I lick my parched lips. “Just you.”
I’ve been attracted to plenty of men, but nobody turns me on like he does.
I’ve never wanted to be the center of someone’s mind like I wanted with him, and I don’t know why. He’s beautiful and good in bed and his smiles stir my insides, but his behavior is rotten and he’s proven he’ll never care about me.
I want to own him anyway—and he doesn’t get to walk away from me this time until I say so.
“It’ll just be you, Dallas,” I whisper. “Until we hate each other.”
Until he’s ready to kill me, because he wants away from me so badly.
Opening my belt and pants, I take out my cock, jerking it a little faster as he rinses. His hands glide over his body and his hair, all of his muscles flexing, and I want him inside of me now.
Not tonight, though.
I stand, still fisting myself. “Get on the bed.”
The water pours over his body, his hand frozen on his head as he rakes the water through. Sophia’s asleep and the guards downstairs can listen to this all they want. I won’t be able to be quiet.
Without waiting for him, I move into the bedroom, hearing the shower turn off. I open my nightstand drawer, removing a condom and some oil as Dallas walks in, rubbing a towel over his hair.
He looks at me, and I look back, waiting. What will I do if he refuses? I could do a lot, but if I’m coming for him, then that means I’m not coming for someone else, and he’s smart enough to know that.
Tossing the towel onto the floor, he takes a seat on the end of the bed.
“Turn over,” I say.
He jerks his head toward me, the surprise evident in his glare.
Straightening his spine, he turns over and climbs onto the bed, lying on his stomach. Moving to the end, I gaze at his long legs and ass, my mouth begging for him as much as my cock.
I push my pants down and climb up, hovering over him. Without hesitating, I glide my tongue in one long, smooth stroke up his ass, feeling him shuddering underneath me.
“Fuck,” he growls, short, shallow breaths leaving his body.
I hold my smile. He fucking liked that.
Taking his flesh between my teeth, I nibble, lick, and kiss up his body, across his shoulders, and on his neck as I rake my hand through his wet hair.
Thrusting my hips, I grind my cock into him, my head already feeling like it’s a balloon floating off my neck and up into the air.
Fuck. He feels good.
Diving back down, I kiss his waist and his hips, his tight skin growing hot on my tongue.
“I thought we’d have a room somewhere,” I tell him my version of the future to contrast his. “Or an apartment or a boat or maybe I’ll keep that shitty Bay motel just for us.”
I trail my mouth down his ass again, kneading his back with my hands and loving every inch I can absorb of him even if he doesn’t.
“I knew you’d never love me,” I say in a raspy voice. “But I knew you’d get off on it, because sex is all about power. And you love bending over a man with a bank account.”
I drag my tongue up his spine, grinding into him in smooth, soft moves. He bends his knee, opening for me, and I settle between his legs, soaking up the warmth on my cock.
Flexing my fist in his hair, I gaze down at him. His forehead is pressed into my blankets—he won’t let me see his face. What is he thinking?
I don’t think I want to know, though. When Dallas is cornered, it’s fight or flight.
“You never liked me, did you?” I ask, not expecting an answer.
I just want him to know that I know. I want him to know that I’m not stupid.
“For me, it was always you.” I come down, my nose in his hair. “Only you. And I don’t even know why, because you’re such a piece of shit, but I always wanted to be where you were.”
The chain hangs off my neck, dragging on his skin.
“I wanted to be everything to you,” I whisper.
“Your mother and your father. Your student, your teacher. Your soul.” Slipping the chain over my head, I hook it over his, tugging it down over his face.
“You’re mine, and I don’t care what you think of me or that you hate me.
” I speak through my teeth. “You’re mine. ”
I wrap my hand around the front of his neck, bend it back to kiss and suck his jaw.
“Get your new boyfriend’s shit off me,” he growls.
“I bought it.” Dipping the tip of my tongue out, I taste his skin. “For you.”
His ass is mine. His cock is mine. I own him.
“Dressing me up, huh?” he asks.
Taking the condom, I breathe in his ear. “There will be more,” I tell him. “I want you in lots of my chains.”
Cum drips from my dick, and I groan. Rising up, I rip open the wrapper and roll on the condom. Grabbing the oil, I watch the side of his face as I take my time, reaching between us and rubbing it on him.
No shame comes from saying everything I said. I kept everything locked away, unable to share it with anyone for years.
He’s not good for me. I’m past that.
Now I’m just going to fuck him as many times as it takes to get sick of him.
“Tell me yes,” I pant. “Tell me that I can have you.”
“I’m not fighting you, am I?”
I moan, sinking my mouth into his neck, his shoulder…“Say yes.”
He groans, chills spreading down his arm. “Don’t stop,” he tells me instead.
Good enough.
Holding myself, I thrust, fitting the head into him. “You’re mine.”
I roll my hips again and slide in, feeling his body go rigid as he gasps and fists the blankets.
My eyelids flutter, the feel of him washing over me like a fucking drug, but I withdraw anyway. I want him to enjoy it.
Has he ever bottomed for anyone else other than me?
Rubbing his back, I wait for his breathing to quiet again. It doesn’t take long. He wants me to think that nothing bothers him.
Desperate to keep going, I press myself inside again, keeping it to just the head and letting him adjust.
His heat sinks through my skin, filtering up, and I close my eyes for a moment.
Then, I thrust, slowly taking myself deeper as I watch his body for a reaction. I grip his shoulder in one hand, planting my other on the bed at his side, nudging his knee wider with my own. In a minute, my shaft is buried inside of him, and I’m picking up the pace.
“Ah, fuck,” I moan. I know what it’s like to be him, and even though this feels amazing, I love it when he’s in control more. Feeling him on me, setting the pace, wanting it…
“Do you like this?” I whisper. “Do you like taking me?”
Does he like feeling how hard I am for him like I get to feel when he’s inside me?
I squeeze his flesh. “Say something.”
“I never liked you.”
And yet, his back is arched, little moans escaping with his breaths.
I lower my mouth to his ear. “I think your ass kind of likes me.”
He’s digging in his elbows to keep his body in place for me.
“You’re so tight.” I pump my hips faster, grazing my thumb over the back of his neck and the silver chain. “Say something else.”
“You’re a lousy fuck, too.” He groans, and I swear I feel him back up into me once. “Harder.”
And I can’t stop myself. Pulling his neck back, I dive in, kissing and sucking, his skin already salty as we pant and moan.
“Fuck,” he murmurs. “Yes.”
My insides feel incredible, like tiny fireworks going off under my skin. It’s going to take forever to not want him anymore. I’m so fucked. Jesus Christ.
“Where’s your grave?” I ask him.
“Harder.”
“Where?” I demand.
But I do what I’m told and give him what he wants. My orgasm starts to crest, my eyes closing as my head floats.