Chapter 16
CHAPTER 16
CALLIOPE
This morning was terrifying. I don’t think I overreacted necessarily—being confronted with a masked man in the woods would make any woman run like hell—but it wasn’t him. Of course, my mind jumped to a person I fear in that situation. It was a thief, likely the same one who robbed our vehicles before.
Arlow’s plan to put cameras up is a good one, and I’ll make sure to shop for a gun when I get back from my trip. It won’t be the first time I’ve owned one but when I moved, I hoped I wouldn’t need one again. It was na?ve, I suppose. A woman alone is always at risk.
I’m not alone tonight. Arlow hasn’t left my side all day. After we finished with the honey, he accompanied me back to my cabin to pack before we returned to his place to eat dinner. We’ve spent the evening together, playing Scrabble and watching TV. I wouldn’t have thought I’d be so relaxed after the day I had but he turned things around. He always does. I wish I could bottle whatever it is about him that calms me. It’s like magic.
I’m not sure where I stand with him from one minute to the next and my habit of overthinking everything doesn’t help. He said he couldn’t be with anyone romantically, and if he’s changed his mind, he hasn’t voiced it. Silver swears he can’t take his eyes off me. That feeling is mutual. I’ve never been so attracted to anyone, so desperate to feel his hands on me. We claim to be friends, but I know friends don’t look at each other the way we do. They don’t touch each other the way we do or cuddle together on the couch to watch TV like we’re doing right now.
My head rests on his shoulder, and he reaches for my hand. His fingers curl to interlace with mine and the intimacy in such a small thing feels overwhelming. Somehow comforting and thrilling at the same time. We stay like that until the credits roll on the movie we’re watching.
“It’s late. I should get to bed.”
“Mm,” he hums, not releasing my hand. “What time are you leaving tomorrow?”
“Around ten. They’ll text when they’re almost here. Are you going to miss me?” My tone is light and teasing.
He lets go of my hand and brushes my hair back from my face as I look up at him. The ever burning spark between us flares again but this time there’s no doubt in my mind that he feels it too. “Calliope.” He murmurs my name like a plea or a prayer.
His eyes close briefly when I run my fingers through his scruff. He leans in inch by tortuously slow inch until his lips hover over mine, his breath tickling them. Unlike last night, he’s sober. I’m not walking away.
The anticipation is killing me as he hesitates, and my heart deflates a little when he touches his forehead to mine. “This isn’t why I asked you to stay.”
Space. I need to put space between us. I scramble to stand up and escape across the room. “I know. I’m sorry. I know this isn’t what you want.”
He’s on his feet immediately, pacing to the window and back. “What I want ,” he scoffs. Frustration drives his hand through his hair. His strides eat up the floor, closing the distance between us. Surprised, I retreat a step until my back hits the wall. He pinches my chin, his eyes burning into mine. “I want to kiss you until neither of us can breathe.” He leans in, sliding the tip of his nose along my jaw. “I want to peel off your clothes, taste your skin, explore every trace of you with my tongue. It’s all I can think about. I want to hear you moan for me and see your face when I make you come.” He leans to warm my ear with his heated words. “What I want is to throw you in my bed and fuck you and fuck you and fuck you.”
There’s no breath left in my lungs. His confession hangs in the thick air as he pulls his head back to look me in the eye. Hearing it in his deep voice, I’ve never been so turned on and desperate for someone in my life. Despite his words, I can feel the restraint in his tensed body and measured breaths. I don’t know if he’s hoping I’ll be the one to stop this or praying I don’t. If he’s counting on me to step away, he has the wrong woman.
Instead of replying or kissing him, I kneel in front of him and watch his eyes widen as I slowly pull the drawstring of his sweatpants, giving him every opportunity to stop me. “Do you want this?”
His cock hardens under my palm through the soft material. “Oh fuck,” he breathes. I may be the one with my back to the wall, but he’s the one who’s cornered. Caught by desire that neither of us is willing to fight tonight.
I slip my fingers beneath the waistband of his underwear and pants on each side, waiting until he nods. He plants one hand against the wall as I pull them down. With a man his height, I wasn’t sure what to expect. There are so many myths surrounding dick size, but he’s perfect. A little on the longer, larger side, but not enough to be uncomfortable or painful. It’s a rideable cock if I’ve ever seen one.
His tongue slips out to wet his lips, and he closes his eyes for a moment as I stroke him. The smooth warm skin is almost as enticing as the tiny sound that escapes him. His body jerks at the first brush of my tongue.
If there’s one part of my life where I don’t suffer with self-doubt, it’s sex. I’m confident in my abilities. There’s nothing I want more in this second than to shatter this man standing over me, to make him come apart at my touch.
He pulls in a sharp breath when I slip my lips over the head. I take my time, licking and sucking him. When I move back too far, bringing my head into light contact with the wall, he slides his fingers into my hair, protecting me from bumping it again. The noises he makes as I increase the pressure, curl my tongue around his cock and pull it to the back of my throat spurs me on.
He presses more firmly on the back of my head then restrains himself, moving his hand to my shoulder, but I grasp it, return it to its place, and use his palm to push my head forward, giving him permission to guide himself in and out of my throat. I cup his balls with one hand, rolling them firmly in my fingers while my other hand explores, caressing his ass, his thighs.
“That’s so good…so fucking good.” The ecstasy and desperation in that deep voice is the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. I could do this to him forever. His breaths grow heavy, a rumble slipping into his moans.
“I’m going to come,” he warns, urgency flooding his tone as he fights the urge to move his hips, his thigh muscles tensing and releasing under my palms.
“Mm,” I hum, acknowledging his words and sucking him deeper. His hands land on the wall and something unintelligible trips out of his mouth when he realizes I’m not going to stop him from finishing right where he is.
He’s a sight when I peek up at him. Arms outstretched, he braces himself against the wall, his eyes closed and an expression of pure ecstasy on his parted lips. A second later, he lets out a long groan, spilling into my throat as I swallow.
I sit back and we stay like that for a moment, me on my knees looking up at him, the sound of his breathing loud in the silent room. He reaches down, takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. The look of awe and lustful admiration on his face is only visible for a second before his lips are on mine.
My skin is on fire as he pins me to the wall. His large hands grace both sides of my head, tilting it while his tongue meets mine. The way he kisses me, deep and slow, has my head spinning. As amazing as our first kiss was, this one puts it to shame.
I run my hands under his shirt, unable to get enough of his warm skin, melting as he places a sucking kiss on my neck. As soon as his fingertips brush over my nipple, I pull my shirt off.
“So fucking gorgeous,” he says, before kissing me again. He caresses each breast, smiling against my mouth when I moan at the feel of his fingers catching my nipple. I need more of him and tug at his shirt. He pulls it off, giving me a brief glance at the extensive tattoo of a dark, leafless tree that covers his chest and abdomen, only taking his mouth from mine for a quick second, as if he can’t bear to stop.
“Bedroom?” he murmurs, nipping at my earlobe.
We head for the stairs, shedding the rest of our clothes along the way. Our hands and mouths keep finding their way back to each other as I walk up the stairs backwards and trip over one of his feet at the top of the staircase. He grabs me before I can hit the ground and grins.
Held aloft a few inches from the floor, giggles burst out of me. “You ran me over with those long legs.”
Instead of pulling me the rest of the way up, he lowers me until my bare ass lands on the cool hardwood of the top step and kneels over me. Pleased mischief reflects on his face as he pushes me down until I’m lying back in the hallway. “Are you laughing at me?”
“I’d never.”
“I think you are.” He dips his head and sucks my nipple into his mouth, ending any argument from me. My hands are in his hair instantly. He bathes both of my nipples with attention and trails his fingertips down my stomach, then looks me in the eye, waiting. It only takes a split second for me to respond.
“God, yes, Arlow. Touch me. Fuck me. I’m going out of my mind.”
He leans over to kiss me again as his hand travels downward. “Oh darling, I’m going to make you come until you forget your name and can’t stop screaming mine.”
I’m going to come as soon as he touches me if he keeps talking like that. My eyes close at the feel of his fingertip on my clit. He circles it gently a few times, then drags his finger farther down, letting his thumb replace it.
“So wet, Calliope. Where are those giggles now, hmm?” he teases, sliding a finger inside of me. My hips flex off the floor. It’s the most exquisite torture. He adds another finger and finds my spot, rubbing it while his thumb continues to stroke over my clit.
“Oh.” The gasped word is all I can manage. A long, deep kiss sets me on fire while his fingers drive me closer and closer. “Fuck, Arlow.”
“Does that feel good?” he murmurs, his mouth hovering over mine.
My hands leap to his sides as the pressure builds, overtaking my ability to think or feel anything except the pleasure he’s giving me. “Please don’t stop.”
“I’ve got you. Look at me.”
It’s so difficult to open my eyes as reality hides under pure sensation, but the second my gaze connects with his, an orgasm rocks through me, pulling his name from my throat. He slows his movements, drawing out the enjoyment, and kissing me once more before moving. He kneels a few stairs down and runs his hands up my inner thighs, spreading them.
My entire body jerks at his hot breath between my legs. “Arlow, I don’t think I can?—”
The words end in a cry as he licks my clit, and my legs try to slam closed of their own accord. I’m too sensitive. It’s too much, but oh god, I don’t want him to stop. He isn’t deterred and pauses only long enough to scoop each of my legs up and drape them over his shoulders. He takes his time exploring me with his tongue and lips before licking back up to circle my clit again.
Sweat coats my skin as I grasp one of the railing slats with one hand and thread my other into his hair. His tongue feels amazing. “Oh god, oh. More pressure, please,” I beg. He acquiesces, and his hands stroke along my outer thighs. “Yes, just like that,” I groan.
He keeps me right at the edge for what feels like forever, lightening up when the tiniest spasms begin then driving me closer with firmer licks until I’m writhing beneath him. A sharp tug at his hair elicits a throaty moan, and he plants his mouth over my clit, sucking steadily.
His arms clamp around my thighs, holding me in place as I lose my mind and cry out at the overwhelming onslaught of spasms that shoot skin numbing pleasure to every inch of me.
The touch of his tongue is suddenly torture. “Stop! I’m done! Oh god.”
He pulls away and softly kisses his way up my stomach before standing up and pulling me to my feet. A satisfied smile tilts his lips when he has to steady me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, my legs are just a little shaky.”
Without warning, he scoops me up and carries me down the hall to his room. It’s dim, with only the bathroom light bleeding in. I’m deposited onto his bed, and he crawls over me. The weight of his body on top of mine feels so right. Perfect. His cock is hard again, and I reach down between us to stroke it.
His breathing speeds up as I rub the head between my lips, coating it with the wetness he’s caused. With his arms propped on either side of my head, he gazes down at me, his cock prodding at my entrance.
It feels like the most intimate thing in the world, the way he watches me as he pushes inside, going a little deeper with each flex of his hips. He leans to kiss me, letting his lips linger a moment as his long, unhurried strokes light me up from the inside out. No words are spoken between us. None are necessary as we move together, reveling in the feel of each other. There’s no urgency or desperation, only the pure euphoria we’re creating, sharing between us.
The little moans he lets out makes me want to hear so much more, and he doesn’t argue when I roll us over. Instead, he lies back and watches me, grabbing my hips as I straddle him.
He moans when I sink down on him, taking every hard inch. “I love that sound,” I tell him, and his cheeks redden a little, his lips curling up. Christ, he’s so sexy and I’m not sure he even knows.
I lean over to suck his neck and kiss down his chest, nuzzling his soft hair. His deep breath when I suck and lick his nipple is something I’m going to remember. He really likes that. When I sit back up and start to move, he grips my hips tightly.
“Fuck yes, ride me,” he groans, and I do just that. He reaches between my legs to rub my clit and I’m surprised to feel the need roar back. I’m going to come again. Three times in a night isn’t usual for me, but a slow, pulsing pleasure rolls through me, making me shiver and moan.
As soon as I’m finished, Arlow lifts me off him. “Lie on your side.” He enters me from behind the moment I do, pulling me back against him. Bending one of my legs up, he proceeds to thrust into me, and I can feel him trying to hold back.
“Harder,” I cry, and he gives me what I ask for. He pauses long enough to pull me up onto my hands and knees, then buries himself again.
“That what you want?” he asks, driving into me. It almost sounds like a challenge, but yes, it is exactly what I want, for him to let go. “A good hard fucking?”
“Yes!” My hands clasp the sheets as he shows me what he’s capable of. I take everything he has to give until his strokes become stuttered and he stops on a deep thrust, coming inside me with a loud gravelly moan. It’s a sound I’ll never stop thinking about.
He falls onto the bed next to me, coated in sweat, his hair damp, his face flushed and eyes bright. “You’re so damn sexy,” I blurt, and his eyebrows leap up.
“That’s my line, gorgeous. Come here.” I lay my head on his chest with no hesitation. He catches my hand as I trace the tree branches inked onto his chest, brings it to his mouth and kisses it.
I’m not sure what to say, if anything, and he seems to feel the same. Finally, I sit up. “I’m going to shower and get to sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”
He rubs his hand up and down my back. “Use the guest shower and I’ll use mine. If I get you in there with me, neither of us is going to get any sleep.”
“Good night, Arlow.”
“Good night, Peach.”
I’m not going to overthink what just happened or what it might mean, at least not right now. It was the best night I’ve had in years and I’m not going to let my brain spoil it. Instead, I take a quick shower and crawl into the guest bed. Not more than five minutes later, I’m surprised to feel Arlow climb in with me and pull me into his arms.
This man was born to be the big spoon. Satisfied and content in a way I wasn’t sure I could feel again, I drift off to sleep.
The scent surrounding me is as comforting as the arm tucked around my middle. Arlow. His warm figure pressed against my back doesn’t budge as my phone alarm continues its insistent serenade. Bleary-eyed, I manage to reach it on the side table and shut it off. He rolls over onto his back but doesn’t wake.
It’s no wonder since we’ve barely been asleep for three hours. My entire body aches in the best way, and the memories of last night are fresh in my head. I knew it would be good with him, but that was beyond any expectation. The way he took me, the passion in every touch and kiss and lick. The feral near growl in his voice when he said my name. This sweet, beekeeping, nature loving, unbearably gentle man fucked the absolute hell out of me.
My friends will be here soon to get me, but I can’t resist lingering a moment to look at him in the dim light. God, he’s so gorgeous. His white lashes rest against his cheek, looking so soft in contrast to the dark locks lying in a tumbled mess on the pillow.
I study his broad shoulders and the planes of his chest. The dark tree tattoo stands out against his lightly tanned skin, and my fingers itch to touch him again, to trace the branches through the scattered curly hair.
My phone beeps with a text from Leo.
Leo
Be there in thirty minutes.
I have to get moving.
Me
I’ll be ready.
As much as I hate to leave after last night, we could probably both use a few days to think. Caught up in the moment, we let ourselves give in to the attraction, the lust for each other. I hope he has no regrets. I don’t, even if it does turn out to be only one night. He initiated it, but does that mean he’s moving on from the ex and ready for more or did our chemistry overcome him?
Sitting here overthinking things isn’t going to do me any good. We’ll talk and figure things out later. Right now, I have a festival to get ready for. I’m glad the night ended with a shower because there’s no time. Arlow doesn’t stir when I get out of bed and slip quietly down the hall to the bathroom.
My small suitcase is packed and waiting in the trunk of my car. After I brush my teeth, get dressed, and tame my hair into a half decent ponytail, I sling my overnight bag over my shoulder and peek into the guest room. He’s still out cold. I’m not going to wake him. I’ll leave him a little note downstairs.
I borrow one of his travel coffee mugs and fill it with cold brew from his fridge, munching on a bagel as I look around for some paper and a pen. I’m not sure what to say. Had a great time riding the hell out of you. See you in a few days?
A giggle slips out as I locate a pen on the table and a notebook on one of his bookshelves. Happiness has me almost bubbling over. Last night really was amazing and now I’m heading off to do my favorite thing in the world. Life is good.
Flipping open the tablet, I realize my mistake. It isn’t writing paper, it’s a sketchbook. The first page contains a rough but skillful sketch of a fallen log. He’s so damned talented. Curiosity gets the best of me, and I flip to the next page.
Maybe it’s the initial shock or just pure denial at the sight of the incredibly detailed picture of me, but for a moment, I can only stand there, staring like it might change.
He drew me. Under any other circumstance, it’d be flattering. Touching. Except I recognize the moment he’s captured.
The only time I’ve been topless in the woods.
That was right after I’d arrived. We hadn’t even met yet, not for another two weeks at least. He had to have seen me to draw this so perfectly, down to the water bottle on the bank of the creek. He was there.
My chest aches, reminding me to breathe. Not knowing what I expect or hope to find, I turn the page to see another drawing of me. This time I’m sitting on the bridge, dangling my feet over. My attention focuses in on one detail, the band-aid on my ankle. I’d scraped it on the edge of a box that morning, only a few days after the day I’d swam topless in the creek.
Tingles run down my spine as I flip through more drawings, all documenting days I thought I was alone in the woods. There’s even one where I’m picking his peaches. Finding me in his orchard wasn’t an accident. Those times that I felt like I was being watched, when I’d dismissed it as anxiety, he was following me.
Watching me.
My heart leaps into my throat at the sound of my name.