Chapter 6
Six
Take Me To Church — Hozier
CALLIOPE
I should’ve slammed the door in his face the moment I opened it. Pointed my gun at him. Slung horrendous insults of which I was wholly capable of making him believe me to be—rightly so—a terrible person.
I could’ve lied. About being involved in bringing the mother there.
It had been what I’d planned to do, if on the off chance he figured out my involvement. I didn’t doubt my ability to tell a lie. I’d been doing it since I learned how to speak.
But I didn’t. I got caught up in the verbal volleyball I found I immensely enjoyed with him. Ivy League graduates, billionaires, CEOs… None of them could keep up with me, could amuse me.
And yet this small-town fisherman was keeping up with me, not missing a beat. Worse, he was seeing m e.
In a way not even those I shared blood with were capable of.
Which couldn’t be logical, given our scant interactions.
But it must’ve been true since he caught me off guard. No man, not since the event , had the ability to catch me unaware, to grasp the back of my neck and haul my body to his in order to kiss me.
I had learned to guard my body like a fortress, knowing how easily it was for a man to think he could conquer it. My defenses were impenetrable, fortified, perfected like my very life depended on it. Because it did.
Despite all of that, Elliot broke through.
I had the power to get him off me the second his hand settled on my neck. The second he invaded my personal space. I’d been trained by some of the deadliest people in the world in order to make myself into a weapon instead of a victim.
I could’ve broken his wrist, his nose, killed off a few million sperm with a well-placed knee.
But I didn’t.
I let him grab me.
Worse, I let him kiss me.
Just for a second , I told myself. Just to see what it tasted like. A man like him .
He tasted of mint.
He smelled of salt and spice.
He was warm, strong.
And then a second became more.
His hand stayed on the back of my neck, the other coasting to my lower back as he pushed his way inside.
Again, it was something I could’ve stopped.
Should’ve stopped.
Instead, I did the unthinkable, something I promised myself I’d never do with a man ever again.
I surrendered.
I let him slam the door closed, I let him push me against the wall, caging me in. Taking control.
All of these actions should’ve been spiking nerve endings long attuned to understand the danger of such things. And I did hear the alarm bells ringing in my head. But they were overpowered by the rush of desire unlike anything I’d ever felt… Ever.
Our hands and mouths crashed against each other until he grasped my wrists with one of his large hands, pulling them upward, lips at my neck.
He kept me there, restrained with impressive strength as his lips wasted no time in traveling to where my peaked nipples were damn near piercing the cotton of my tee.
I let out a gasp as his mouth covered the fabric, sucking at my nipple, the friction and sensation sending pleasure shooting through my veins.
His hand slipped underneath my tee, rough palm against my bare skin, over my belly button, skating upward to the underside of my breast, cupping it as he sucked my other nipple through the fabric.
Then his mouth was gone, his hand at the hem of my shirt, his eyes boring into mine.
“Keep your arms up,” he rasped.
I didn’t say anything, just kept my eyes on him and my hands up, my heart hammering in my chest and my pelvic region throbbing with need.
He pulled my shirt up and over my head in one quick and smooth move. My skin prickled with the slight chill to the air, stark against the inferno that Elliot had sparked over every inch of my body.
Elliot sucked an audible breath through his teeth as his eyes feasted on my tits. Feasted .
I had nice tits. I was used to men appreciating them. But never in the way Elliot was, as if he were committing them to memory so he could sculpt them later.
He was looking at me like I was a masterpiece, and he hadn’t even gotten me fully naked yet.
My arms were starting to ache from where I’d kept them up, so I began to bring them to my sides.
Elliot’s eyes smoldered at my movement.
“Did I tell you you could move?” His voice was smooth, deep and commanding.
I blinked at the sentence, completely caught unaware at the hint of darkness to it. I licked my lips, instantly liking it, loving that he had the ability to surprise me. Clearly, he had hidden depths. I wanted to swim in them. Drown in them.
I kept a rebellious stare locked on his eyes, sending my hands downward.
Hooking them around the waistband of my pants and panties, I bent to take them both off.
It was what I was used to, what I needed to do to regain control of this ship.
Take charge, show the man I was setting the pace.
That I dictated what parts of my body, what parts of myself I did and didn’t show.
The second I kicked my pants away, standing naked in front of a fully-clothed Elliot but feeling like I had the upper hand, Elliot’s hand circled both of my wrists, making my small bones feel delicate under his grip but not tightening anywhere near the point of pain.
He leaned in, his breath hot on my face, his stormy eyes electric as they zeroed in on me with a commanding aura.
“You do what I tell you,” he whispered, menace and mischief in his tone.
I smiled at him, willing to play the game. For now. Doing what I was told was not regularly something that turned me on, but I was already soaked for him.
Elliot held my gaze for a bit longer, then he got on his knees. He grasped the back of my thigh, lifting it to hook it over his shoulder, to get better access to my pussy. Which he then laid his mouth on.
My head slammed into the back of the wall, shock and pleasure battling for control of my emotions. I’d expected some kind of teasing, working his way there. I’d taken Elliot as a measured man, one who would be polite in the bedroom.
Which meant I didn’t expect his brutal assault. His mouth worked me expertly, relentlessly, not building me up to a slow climax but sending one rushing at me with an intensity that shook my world.
His mouth didn’t halt as waves of rapture threatened to buckle my knees, a lot of my weight pressing onto his shoulder.
He steadied me with a hand on my hip, the grip firm, reassuring… Nice.
Shuddering with aftershocks and finding the ability to see beyond the stars in my vision, I looked down at the blond head of hair which tilted upward to show Elliot’s face, a mask of desire. Of hunger.
“Your pussy tastes exactly as I imagined.” His hoarse voice cut through the thrashing in my ears. “Honey and spice.” I almost came again when he licked his lips sensually.
I swallowed, unable to find some smart or quirky retort.
I barely remembered my own name.
In a slow blink, he was up, kissing me, giving me my own taste on my lips. Again, something I had never previously been into, but I reveled in it with Elliot.
The kiss went on long enough for me to regain some feeling in my limbs, Elliot circling my neck with his hand as he released me, hovering inches from my face.
His gaze roved over my naked body, lazily appraising me, leaving fire in the wake of his eyes. “Take me to your bedroom.”
Part of me wanted him to fuck me right there against the wall, even though I didn’t like my chances of being able to sustain my own weight for an extended period of time. That would make it clear what we were doing. Impersonal fucking. Scratching an itch.
Being in a bedroom, my bedroom… It changed the dynamics. I didn’t know if Elliot knew that or if he just wanted to be horizontal.
I could’ve pressed the issue. I might have if I had enough energy to argue.
And if I was breathing, that meant I had enough energy to argue.
But when he let me go, I grasped his hand, and naked, I led him into my bedroom, each footfall heavier than the last, the pounding of my heart an echo in my ears.
Once inside, I turned to face him. His eyes quickly darted around the room to assess the surroundings, zeroing in on me after a handful of seconds. As if I were a magnet, as if he couldn’t stand not looking at me. As if nothing in the world was more important.
My breathing quickened as I felt butterflies at his stare. Butterflies . As if I wasn’t a grown woman and his mouth hadn’t been on my pussy a few minutes ago. Butterflies were for teenagers, virgins, and hopeless romantics. I was none of those things. Yet the flutter in my stomach remained.
The stark contrast of my nakedness and his flannel and jeans only sent my heart racing faster. I could’ve felt small, vulnerable in this situation, yet his eyes on me with a look of complete hunger was empowering.
He kicked off his Birkenstocks. A storm raged in his eyes as his mouth formed a tight line. “Take off my clothes.” My body jolted with shock at the command.
Again, being told what to do should’ve made me feel less than, like I was an object to him, but his magical tone and heated expression changed the meaning of the words, my feelings and instincts toward them.
My feet sank into the rug as I crossed the distance between us, fingers going to the edge of his flannel before pulling it off his shoulders and letting it fall to the ground.
Then I grasped the hem of his tee, hoisting it up and over his head, tossing it to the ground.
I couldn’t help raking my nails against the muscled and tanned torso in front of me.
His abs were cut, each lazily defined with an effortless kind of feel.
Not like he honed them in the gym, but as though his body naturally developed each muscle.
The tawny hair on his chest was silky, sparse, the trail down his belly button the same.
I smiled as Elliot let out a low hiss of satisfaction, digging my nails in just a little more.