Chapter 80 Aurélie
aurélie
I didn’t run for cardio. I ran because I saw that photo and my cock decided we were going. She calls, I come—doesn’t matter where, doesn’t matter how. She’s got me fucking trained. –Callum
The typing bubbles disappeared. I frowned at the screen, mid-leg lift with the resistance band cinched around my thighs, and pouted like a child.
Really? He asked if I was alone, and then… nothing? He was going to leave me high and dry after that photo?
With a sigh, I let my leg fall and dropped back onto my forearms, glaring at my phone as if it had betrayed me. I told myself I didn’t care. I’d already sent the selfie and teased him. If he didn’t take the bait, fine. Whatever. It wasn’t like I needed him to reply.
Except I did. Or at least, I wanted him to. Badly. I’d been thinking about it since I left his flat yesterday morning with his hand print on my ass cheek.
Focus, I told myself. I still had a video to make—some dumb little assignment from my PR team to showcase a “behind-the-scenes fitness moment.” Keep the fans engaged, maintain relatability, blah blah blah.
As if that was the biggest concern after taking pole position in Monaco.
Still, I propped my phone up against my water bottle, pressed record, and forced a soft smile for the camera.
“Hey, guys,” I said a little too cheerfully, switching to French as I adjusted the resistance band. “Here’s your little peek into what a post-quali workout looks like.”
I moved through the routine, trying not to look like I was dying inside.
My legs burned and my core ached. My shoulders felt stiff and my muscles were tight.
I was sweaty and sore and fucking needy, but I powered through the set—glute bridges, side leg lifts, fire hydrants—until I shifted onto all fours, removed the band, and slipped into a series of donkey kicks that looked a little too provocative for a public gym.
I’d probably cut this part out, because the last thing I needed was for a bunch of internet trolls calling me some other variation of whore or slut.
Slut. Callum and I called each other that back in Miami, and honestly, I’d spent a little too much time thinking about that. Maybe I’d gotten off to the memory of it more than a few times.
My ass was high in the air, and just as I settled into a rhythm, the gym door creaked open. I turned my head and about collapsed.
Callum.
He stood there in the doorway like he’d just stepped out of a dream—or straight off the track.
Sweat slicked his hair to his forehead, and his hoodie clung to his chest. He wore a pair of exercise shorts and expensive sneakers, and all I could do was gawk at how fucking good he looked.
He was panting, chest heaving as if he’d run to me.
His eyes locked on mine and then drifted down.
And down.
And down.
They landed on my ass in the air, my thighs, my entire body frozen mid-motion like a deer caught in headlights.
I blinked, turning to watch him in the mirror that spanned the far wall of the gym, slowly lowering my leg so I could lean back on my haunches. “You didn’t answer my text.”
He took one step forward, jaw clenched. “No,” he rasped.
“I ran instead.” He moved toward me like he wasn’t walking at all—like gravity had given up trying to hold him back.
I stayed exactly where I was, sitting on my heels with my knees splayed, body still warm and trembling from the workout.
I tilted my head, watching him in the mirror as he stalked closer, his breath ragged, a flush creeping up his neck.
There was something dark, dangerous, and untethered in his expression. Like he’d snapped and didn’t know how to put himself back together. And fuck, it made my stomach drop in the best way.
“You ran here,” I repeated, light and teasing, even though my heart flipped at the thought. “For me?”
His jaw ticked as he dragged his gaze over me, hot and feral. “I told myself I was behaving,” he muttered. “But then you sent that photo, and now I’m here.”
I barely had time to react before he dropped to his knees, right behind me, with no hesitation or pretense.
Then he crawled, closing the last meter of distance between us, and the sight of it—the way he moved, the intensity in his eyes, the fact that this was Callum Fraser crawling across the gym floor like he’d die if he didn’t touch me—lit something wild and molten in my core.
My thighs squeezed together, pulse thundering as I watched him straighten on his knees behind me, his heat and distinct scent suddenly hitting me.
I sucked in a ragged breath, because in the mirror, I could see the way I looked next to him.
Smaller, feminine, delicate next to his larger, broader, masculine frame.
I looked like I belonged to him, like I was his, and it was all I ever wanted.
His breath was hot and heavy against the back of my neck, and without a word, his hand curled around my ponytail and yanked.
A startled gasp ripped from my throat as my back arched, head tipping back until my spine curved and I was forced to look at him directly rather than at our reflections.
His face hovered close, eyes dark and locked on mine, all the shades of blue I loved so much nearly swallowed by his pupils.
“You knew what that photo would do to me.” It wasn’t a question, just a fact.
“And you came running anyway,” I whispered, breath catching as his hand slid from my ponytail to cup the back of my neck, then moved to wrap around my throat. It was a warning and a promise all at once.
“You think I’m going to behave now?” he rasped, voice like smoke and sex. He shifted so his legs were bracketing mine, and my ass pressed into his lap. “When you’re kneeling for me like this?”
I tried to smirk, but then he squeezed my throat, and instead I swallowed. “Is this the ‘friends’ part of this relationship?”
He chuckled, low and dark. The kind of sound that slithered down my spine and turned my insides to syrup. “No,” he said, dipping his head so his lips brushed mine. “This is the unconventional strings attached part.” Then he kissed me like he meant to ruin every coherent thought I had left.
It was upside down and messy, all teeth and tongue and desperate groans.
His grip on my throat tilted my head until his mouth slanted perfectly over mine, and the second our lips locked like that, we both moaned.
It wasn’t soft. It was deep and greedy and fucking addictive, as if we were trying to inhale each other.
His tongue licked into my mouth, hot and wet and filthy, and I clung to his forearm, nails digging in as if I needed something to ground me while the rest of me shattered apart.
My body buzzed, hips rocking subtly back against the rigid length of him, and I swore I could feel him tremble.
Callum kissed me as if he was starving, as if he didn’t just have me yesterday morning.
It felt like he’d been pacing his flat all night waiting for an excuse to break.
And now that he had, there was no going back.
My breath hitched as his grip on my throat tightened just enough to make me feel owned, anchored, and desired in the most possessive, unholy way.
I gasped against his mouth, and he growled, pulling back just enough to get a better view of me. I couldn’t resist anymore—I was too worked up and needy—and I pushed my hips back into him. Just once, but it was slow and deliberate, he inhaled shakily, his eyes fluttering closed.
“You really wanna test me like this?” he rasped.
I arched again, grinding my ass into the hard length of him through his shorts, biting my bottom lip. “You ran all this way. I figure you might as well get more cardio in.”
He swore under his breath. I loved when he was like this, losing whatever restraint he had left.
I wanted him to. I needed him to. His hand stayed tight on my throat, holding me still, while the other slipped down—slow, searching—until it found the waistband of my shorts.
He didn’t so much as hesitate to slip his hand inside, and I choked on a gasp, my entire body jolting as his fingers slipped between my folds, already soaked and waiting.
He dropped his head to groan into my neck.
“Christ, Auri,” he muttered, rubbing slow circles over my clit, his voice cracking with need. “You’re dripping. Did you get like this just from sending the photo?”
I whimpered, my head falling back against his shoulder. “No,” I lied.
He pressed two fingers inside me and curled them in the way I loved so much. “Liar.”
His palm ground against my clit, and I wound my arms around his neck to give myself leverage as I pushed back against him, humping him like I didn’t care who saw, because in this moment, I didn’t.
I just needed friction. I needed him. His cock was rock-hard behind me, his bulge perfectly aligned with my ass.
I kept grinding as he fucked me with his fingers, his mouth dragging over my shoulder, my neck, my jaw.
“I wanted to be good,” he whispered, somehow both wrecked and reverent. “Because you deserve that.”
My hips stuttered, my legs started to shake, and still, I managed, “But you are so good for me, aren’t you, mon amour? Look how you came running to me.”
“You—you make me feral.” I’d never heard a man sound so broken, but it was the most intoxicating sound I’d ever heard in my life. I wanted to hear him like this, unraveled and mine, every goddamn day of my life.
I moaned, trembling, and his fingers never slowed. But then he paused, just for a moment, long enough to bring his lips to my ear.
“You fucking did it today,” he rasped. “Pole in Monaco. First woman in history to do it, and you made it look effortless.” His voice cracked, thick with awe.
“I’m so fucking proud of you.” I went still, breath hitching at the rawness of it.
“No one will ever take this from you, Aurélie. No one. They’ll talk shit.
They’ll try to downplay it. But it’s carved in stone now.
In every lap, in every millisecond of data.
” His fingers curled inside me, slow and deep, and my hips bucked toward him, seeking the pleasure only he could give me. “You earned it. Every second of it.”
I blinked, vision blurring with unshed tears, and then he smirked—dark, wicked, reverent.
“And now,” he murmured, thrusting deeper with his fingers, “I’m gonna make you come like the fucking legend you are.”
Whimpering and writhing, I tugged on the strands of his hair at the nape of his neck. “No, I need—I need you to fuck me. Please.”
Callum huffed a laugh against my shoulder.
“I was so desperate to get to you, love, I didn’t bring a condom.
” He bit down on my skin, just as my head dropped back and my whole body seized.
I wanted to scream in frustration, to tell him it didn’t matter, that I was on birth control, that pregnancy wasn’t a concern anyway, but I was climbing fast toward a release and could no longer think.
“That’s it, baby,” he coaxed, his thumb flicking over my clit as his other arm braced around my middle, holding me tight to his chest. “Get yourself off on me. Take what you need.”
I did. I rocked harder, grinding down on his hand while his hips slammed forward against my ass.
He was rutting into me like he couldn’t stop—as if the friction alone might be enough to get him off.
I could feel how hard he was, straining against the thin layers of fabric separating us, every desperate thrust lighting me up from the inside out.
“Oh, my God,” I choked out, eyes fluttering closed. “Callum—”
“I know, love.” His breath was hot against my ear. “You’ve got me, yeah? Let go.”
“I’m gonna come,” I gasped out.
“Do it,” he growled, grinding into me harder. “Come all over my fucking fingers while I come in my pants thinking about how good your pussy’s gonna feel wrapped around my cock.”
I came hard. My orgasm tore through me with dizzying force, my thighs shaking, spine bowed, my arousal coating his fingers as I cried out his name.
Wetness leaked from me, soaking my shorts.
At the same time, he snarled against my neck, hips stuttering, his body locked up behind mine as he held me through his own release, completely undone.
I felt the pulsing of his cock against my ass, and holy fuck, it was the hottest thing I’d ever experienced.
I would never recover from how we seemed to completely undo each other—always unashamed, perfectly accepting, so wholeheartedly us.
His cum seeped through our clothes, dampening the both of us.
We didn’t move for a long moment. Just heaved in time with each other, sweat-drenched and shattered, still tangled on the floor like we were the only two people in the world.
I didn’t know how it was possible for us to always lose ourselves in one another, but one thing was for sure—no matter how hard I tried, I would never be able to stay away from him.
I didn’t want to, because he was mine, and I was his, and the rest of the world didn’t matter.
None of it fucking mattered, because in our private moments, we gave everything to each other.
And that was something the rest of the world couldn’t rob us of.