Chapter 27
Billie
Ikissed him like I was trying to memorize the shape of his mouth.
My hands fisted in his shirt, yanking him closer, my body pressing against his like I could merge us into one person—no more secrets, no more lies, no more waiting.
His breath hitched, just for a second, before his arms banded around me, crushing me to him.
His mouth was hot, demanding, his tongue sweeping against mine like he was starving and I was the only thing that could feed him.
I bit his lower lip, hard enough to make him groan, and then soothed it with my own, my teeth grazing, my lips bruising.
He tasted like coffee and frustration and something darker, something that belonged only to him.
His hands slid down my back, palms rough through the thin fabric of my hoodie, his fingers digging in just shy of pain.
I arched into him, my nails scraping down his chest, feeling the way his muscles jumped under my touch.
He made a sound—low, guttural, like he was losing control—and then his hands were in my hair, tilting my head back so he could kiss me deeper, harder, like he was trying to brand me from the inside out.
I gasped against his mouth, my legs trembling, my entire body alight with the kind of heat that didn’t just burn—it consumed.
His teeth closed over my bottom lip, tugging just enough to make me whimper, and then his mouth was on my jaw, my throat, the pulse point beneath my ear that made my knees weak.
I clung to him, my fingers twisting in his hair, my hips pressing against his, feeling the way his body responded to mine, the way he was just as wrecked as I was.
"Billie—" My name was a warning in his voice, rough and strained, like he was trying to hold onto something and failing.
I didn’t let him finish.
I kissed him again, my lips crashing into his, my tongue sliding against his, my teeth nipping at his lower lip until he groaned, his hands tightening on my waist, pulling me flush against him.
There was no space between us, no air, no thought—just this, just us, just the way his heart pounded against my chest and the way my breath came in ragged gasps and the way his mouth moved against mine like he was trying to say everything he couldn’t put into words.
I wanted to drown in it.
I wanted to let it ruin me.
His hands slid down to my waist, fingers hooking into the waistband of my leggings.
I barely had time to breathe before he lifted me like I weighed nothing, my back hitting the cold wood of his desk with a thud.
Papers scattered, a pen rolled off the edge and clattered to the floor.
I didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was the way he looked at me—like he’d been starving for this, like he’d been dreaming of it.
"Fuck, Billie," he growled, his voice rough and low.
"You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined you right here.
Just like this." His hands slid up my thighs, pushing them apart, his thumbs hooking under the fabric of my leggings and dragging them down, taking my underwear with them.
The air hit my skin, cool against the heat of me, and I shivered, my body arching up toward him.
He stepped back just enough to look down at me, his gaze dark and hungry, tracing over every inch of me like he was memorizing the sight.
My breath hitched as his fingers went to his belt, the sound of the leather sliding through the loops loud in the quiet of the office.
He freed himself, his cock hard and thick in his hand, and I bit my lip as I watched him stroke himself, his eyes never leaving mine.
"Look at you," he murmured, his voice a rough caress. "So fucking perfect. So fucking mine."
My body throbbed with want, my pulse pounding between my legs, aching for him, for the way he was looking at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.
I spread my legs wider, inviting him, needing him, my fingers digging into the edge of the desk as I watched him stroke himself, slow and deliberate, his eyes locked on me.
"Calder," I breathed, my voice trembling with need.
He groaned, his hand tightening around himself, his jaw clenching like he was fighting for control. "Say it again," he demanded, his voice raw.
I didn’t hesitate. "Calder," I repeated, louder this time, my voice steady despite the way my body was trembling. "Please."
His name barely left my lips before he was on me, his mouth crashing down on mine again, swallowing the sound.
His hands were everywhere—rough, desperate—shoving up my hoodie, tearing at my sports bra until my breasts spilled free.
The cold air hit my skin, but it didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered except the way his calloused palms cupped me, his thumbs brushing over my nipples before his mouth closed around one, hot and wet and demanding.
I gasped, my back arching off the desk as his teeth grazed, his tongue swirling, sending a jolt straight between my legs.
His other hand slid down, fingers teasing over my stomach before diving lower, finding me already slick and ready for him.
He groaned against my skin; the vibration making me whimper, my hips lifting into his touch.
"Fuck, you’re dripping," he growled, his breath hot against my breast as his fingers circled, then pressed inside me. I cried out, my nails raking down his back, my legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer. He didn’t make me wait.
Didn’t tease. His fingers curled, hitting that spot inside me that made my vision blur, my breath coming in sharp, broken gasps.
"Calder—please—" I begged, my voice raw, my body trembling on the edge.
He didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. His fingers slid free, and then he was there, the thick head of his cock pressing against me, stretching me open. I clenched around him, my body adjusting to the size of him, the heat of him. He groaned, his forehead pressing to mine, his breath ragged.
"You feel that?" His voice was a rough whisper, his hips rolling just enough to make me gasp. "You feel how fucking perfect you are?"
I didn’t get to answer. He pulled back and slammed into me, hard and deep, filling me completely.
My back bowed off the desk, a cry tearing from my throat as he set a brutal pace, his hips snapping against mine, his cock hitting that spot inside me over and over.
His mouth found my other breast, sucking, biting, his teeth scraping over my nipple as his fingers dug into my hips, holding me in place as he fucked me like he was trying to brand me from the inside out.
Every thrust was punishing, every roll of his hips sending sparks through my body, coiling tighter and tighter until I was nothing but sensation, nothing but need.
His name fell from my lips in a broken chant, my fingers tangled in his hair, my legs locked around him, taking everything he gave me and begging for more.
His fingers dug into my hips, bruising, claiming, like he was trying to fuse us together.
Every thrust was harder than the last, his cock pounding into me with a desperation that matched my own.
The desk creaked beneath us, papers sliding to the floor, but neither of us cared.
There was only this—the way his body moved against mine, the way his breath came in ragged gasps, the way his grip tightened like he was afraid I’d disappear.
"You’re mine," he growled against my ear, his voice rough and raw. "Every fucking inch of you. No one else gets to touch you. No one else gets to have you."
I whimpered, my nails raking down his back as he drove into me, his hips snapping with a force that stole my breath.
The thought of Nate’s lips on mine, the way Calder had seen it, the way it had gutted him—it only made him fuck me harder.
His cock hit that spot inside me over and over, each thrust punishing, possessive, like he was trying to erase every other man from my memory.
"I want to fuck you so hard," he snarled, his teeth grazing my collarbone, "you forget every single one of them before me. I want to come so deep inside you, you’ll still be dripping with me weeks later."
A broken sound tore from my throat, my body tightening around him, my orgasm building like a storm. His words, his touch, the way he was ruining me—it was too much, too perfect, too his. My fingers clenched in his hair, my back arching as he slammed into me, his name a prayer on my lips.
"Calder—fuck—"
"Come for me," he demanded, his voice a dark command. "Let me feel you."
And I did.
I shattered.
My body clenched around him, my orgasm ripping through me with a force that left me trembling, my nails digging into his skin as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me.
He groaned, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep, his cock pulsing inside me as he came, his release hot and thick, filling me just like he promised.
His forehead pressed to mine, his breath ragged, his body still trembling with the aftershocks. "Mine," he repeated, softer now, but no less fierce. "Only mine."
My legs barely held me as Calder lifted me off the desk, his hands steady on my waist like I was something precious instead of the mess I was.
He didn’t let go, not even when my feet hit the floor, his fingers tracing the curve of my hip before sliding down to help me step into my leggings.
Every touch was a brand, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing the shape of me.
He knelt in front of me, his breath warm against my stomach as he pulled the fabric up my thighs.
His lips followed, pressing kisses to my skin—my hipbone, the scar on my knee, the inside of my wrist as he guided my arm into my hoodie.
I swallowed hard, my pulse still racing, my body humming from the way he’d just ruined me.
"Come home with me," he murmured against my collarbone, his voice rough.