21. Freddie #2
Then he’s standing, lowering me until my bare feet hit the dusty floorboards. I miss the heat of him immediately—the solid press of his body, the way he held me up like I weighed nothing. He leans down and kisses me, slow and deep, and I can taste myself on his tongue.
“You are divine as fuck, Winifred Rowley,” he murmurs against my sweaty skin, his hands gripping my hips with a sudden desperation that makes my heart take flight. “Tell me I can have you again. Please.”
The whisper is so genuine, so stripped of pretense, that I don’t even have time to build up any of my regular defenses. “Of course you can.”
With that, he grasps my hips hard and flips me around to face the mirror.
My reflection stares back at me in the dim, amber firelight—hair a magnificent, chaotic mess, lips swollen and bright red, cheeks and chin flushed from the rough scrape of his mustache.
Behind me, Callum looms like a force of nature.
His auburn hair is just as messy, beads of sweat glistening across the broad plane of his chest and trailing down the dip of his abdomen.
“Put your hands on the mirror,” he commands.
I plant my palms against the cool glass and arch my back a little, just enough to grind the barest bit of my ass against his cock. He reaches up and fists my hair, yanking my head back gently until my eyes meet his in the reflection.
“Look at yourself. I want you to see what you look like, see how fucking gorgeous you are.” He leans down, his mouth right at my ear. “And I want you to watch what I look like when I come inside you.”
A violent jolt shoots straight down my spine, my toes instinctively curling into the faded rug. “Jesus, Cal,” I pant out, my chest heaving. “Who knew the quiet detective had such a filthy mouth? I love it.”
He smirks against my throat, keeping a gentle, firm tension on my hair as he presses a hot kiss to the side of my neck. His free hand slides down, giving my ass a hard, possessive squeeze.
“You’re fucking perfect, Win,” he rasps, yanking my hips back flush against his lower belly. “Can you feel how hard I am for you?”
A helpless whimper escapes me, and I nod against his grip.
“Use your words, sweetheart.”
“Yes,” I gasp out, staring at us in the mirror. “Yes, I feel it.”
I tease him again, rolling my hips back in a slow, deliberate circle. In the reflection, I watch him take his dick—already slick and leaking at the tip—and line it up directly with my entrance.
His dark eyes lock onto mine in the glass, his expression darkening. “Tell me if it’s too much, Win.”
I scoff, trying to hold onto my pride. “I can handle it.”
“That’s my girl,” he smirks.
But when he finally pushes inside—just the thick head of him—a sharp cry tears from my throat. Fuck, I think, my eyes snapping shut as panic hits me. Maybe I can’t.
I hiss through my teeth, my fingers clawing at the cool glass as I hang my head, staring blindly down at the floorboards.
“If you want to come, you keep those eyes open,” Callum commands, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Eyes on me, Win.”
I force my eyes open, finding his in the reflection. He pushes in a few more inches. My mouth drops open, my fingers scrambling over the mirror for leverage as my inner walls stretch to their limit, but I keep my gaze locked onto his.
He pushes again, and this one hits with an ache that makes me gasp for air.
“Breathe,” Callum murmurs rasply, his grip on my hip steadying me. “Breathe for me, Win. I’m right here.”
“You’re so fucking big,” I choke out, my voice cracking. My eyes start to water at the sting.
He pushes once more, and this time he’s the one struggling for breath, a low groan breaking from his chest as his eyes burn into mine in the glass. “Fuck, Win…you feel so good around me. So tight.”
“One more push,” he grunts, and buries himself as far as he can go.
I gasp loudly into the silent room, staring at our reflections. “Fucking hell.”
Then, he begins to move. Slowly at first, pulling almost all the way out before plunging deep again, setting a relentless pace. His hands grip my hips, pulling me back onto his dick to meet every single stroke while I grind my hips to match his rhythm.
I watch the mirror in hypnotic awe. Callum’s jaw is clenched, his brow furrowed in concentration, every muscle in his arms and shoulders working as he thrusts into me. My bare breasts bounce frantically with every hit, the silver bars catching the flickering orange firelight.
“Callum…oh god, Callum,” I cry out over and over, completely unraveled.
“Take it, Win,” he growls in my ear. “Look at how good you’re taking me. Fuck, you were made for this.”
I’m so stretched, so completely filled, that I can barely think. He reaches up, pulling my hair back again to tilt my face toward the glass.
“How do you feel?” he pants against my cheek.
“Full,” I choke out, the word tumbling past my swollen lips before I can stop it. “So full.”
At the word, Callum thrusts hard, driving deeper than before and knocking my body forward so my chest almost touches the glass. A high scream tears from my throat.