Chapter Thirty Sophie #3
His one hand goes to the back of my head, and the other tightens around my lower back as he guides us back and lowers us down to my bed. My legs immediately wrap around his hips, and he mindlessly grinds himself into me, and I let out a breathy moan from the friction. Oh, wow...
"That feels so good," I whisper, flicking my tongue out against his upper lip before nipping it.
"Yeah?" he asks, like he's cataloguing every response I give. He's not just pleasuring me, he's learning me—what I like, what makes me moan, what makes me come undone.
"So good, Callum," I respond before pushing him back and grabbing the bottom of his shirt. He nods his head, and I lift the bottom of his shirt up. He helps me, grabbing the back of his shirt and lifting it over his head, revealing his chest to me for the first time.
"Oh," I breathe when I finally get a look at him.
Callum isn't sculpted or shredded. He's not carved from marble.
He's perfect. He's broad and strong and warm, with a healthy dusting of dark hair across his chest and trailing down his belly and lower.
My imagination was really damn close, but the real thing is so, so, so much better. "Callum, you're..."
That unsure, almost self-conscious look he had on his face when I first took his shirt off melts away, and his grin is almost a smirk at my no doubt shell-shocked look. "I'm... ?"
"Incredible," I lean forward and kiss his chest, almost purring at the concentrated scent of him. "Handsome. Gorgeous. Mine."
Something about the last word changes him. It's like I just flipped a switch, and his sweet, tender eyes darken. He grabs me, his grip on my body is tighter than usual. It's not rough or painful, just firm and hungry and wanting.
I love it.
I love both sides of this man—my soft, gentle giant, and now my wild feral beast.
"Yours," Callum murmurs, catches my chin between his fingers, and pulls me into a kiss that feels claiming.
"Mine," he growls against my mouth. I open my mouth to deepen the kiss more, moaning as our tongues meet and tangle in their own dance.
He tastes so good, like coffee and something that's just distinctly him.
Callum's hands trail to the bottom of my sweater, and he looks at me with a silent question in his eyes.
I nod my head and raise my arms, allowing him to slip the sweater over my head, along with my white undershirt.
Thankfully, I picked a cute bra today—the nude lacy one that hugs the girls quite well.
Without thought, I reach back and undo my bra, and Callum meets my eyes again as he reaches forward, grabbing the straps, and I nod once more, allowing him to pull it off of me. When I'm bared to him, he looks, and he smiles, "I was right, spectacular. Just like the rest of you."
"Ridiculous," I grin and lean forward to kiss him, feeling his hands lightly trail up my sides until they're touching my breasts.
I moan at the contact as he caresses them, holding the weight of them.
They're not super large, but I like their size—I'm around a size B, and during my upcoming consultation with the plastic surgeon, I'll ask for a similar size.
I know I'll lose some sensation after the surgery, which I already feel like I'm mourning, but. .. I'd much rather be alive.
Callum's hands don't linger on my breasts, which I am honestly a little thankful for. I'm not sure how far I want this to go, or how far he's willing to go, and I don't want to think about it right now. I just want to feel him. His hands trail down my sides and pause at my jeans.
"Can I go down on you, baby?" Callum asks, his voice taking on an inflection like he's almost begging to do it.
I moan softly just from the question itself, eagerly nodding my head.
With shaking hands, he undoes my jeans' button and slips them off, along with my underwear.
He doesn't look at me yet; he keeps his eyes deadlocked on mine, his face serious and his cheeks a little flushed. "I've... I've never done this before."
That statement takes me off guard, and I blink, "Really?"
Callum nods, "So you're going to have to guide me a bit." His face looks a little embarrassed at this, but there's no need for that—never with me.
A teasing smile curves at my lips as I scoot back, reclining against my pillows.
Callum's eyes go a little hazy, heavy lidded, and I bite my lip.
Slowly, I spread one of my legs for him.
His jaw clenches, and he breathes deep through his nose as I spread the other leg, completely baring myself to his gaze.
He keeps his gaze on mine for a long moment before it finally drops, and his mouth goes a little slack.
"Oh, Sophie," he murmurs, his voice full of awe. "You're just beautiful all over. Aren't you, baby?"
His voice is a low rumble now, a little hoarse and ragged, and I swear I can feel myself growing even more slick from it.
I feel powerful and confident, even with no hair, the port in my chest, and the dark circles under my eyes.
Callum is looking at me like I'm a goddess, like he wants to devour me.
"You want to taste me?" My voice sounds a little breathless and husky as I reach down to rub my clit—once, twice—before slipping my fingers in me.
I moan, and Callum swallows hard, his jaw clenching hard enough to crack teeth.
His look and the feelings from the show I'm putting on have me more turned on than I've ever been.
I lift my wet hand and reach out to him, an offering.
"More than anything," he forces out through gritted teeth. Like a man crawling toward salvation, he crawls up the bed toward me, he takes my fingers in his mouth and sucks, eyes rolling and then closing as he tastes me, a sample.
The feeling of his warm mouth around my fingers causes my core to clench, and I let out a breathy moan.
When he's sufficiently cleaned my fingers, he moves up, kissing me deeply and letting me taste myself.
I've never really cared for that, but the combination of the taste of me on Callum's lips and Callum himself is delicious.
"You are exquisite," he whispers against my lips, nipping once before moving back down and settling between my spread open legs. He looks at me again, his big hands touching my thighs and then sliding to frame my pussy.
I don't feel shy. Honestly, I've never felt shy about my naked body before with my previous sexual partners, but with the changes that I've gone through, I thought I might feel a little different.
Especially since my pubic hair has fallen out from the chemo.
I usually feel more comfortable with it neatly trimmed, but since it's all fallen out, I feel a little more exposed—but not uncomfortable.
How could I ever feel uncomfortable with my Callum?
"I've read about this hundreds of times," he jokes, making me laugh and reach down to brush his hair from his forehead. "You'd think I'd be able to write a thesis paper on it by now."
"It's okay, whatever you do is going to feel good for me," I assure him,
"I just don't want to disappoint you," he admits in a low voice, his voice raw and vulnerable. I reach down and cup both of his cheeks, pulling him in for a kiss.
"The only way you could ever disappoint me is by not telling me what's going on inside that head of yours," I pull back to meet his eyes, so he knows how sincere my words are. I need to know about his fears and anxieties, every single one, even if they're not pretty.
That was the mistake my ex made, not sharing his truth, and look where that led.
Paul assumed I was too weak to handle my cancer battle and was shouldering his anxieties. I'm not, that's something that's grown clear these last few months—my strength. I can handle anything life throws at me, with a little help from my friends.
I grin, reaching down to run my hands through Callum's hair, soothing him. "This is the practical exam, Mr. Rhodes, and your proctor—that's me—is going to be satisfied with your performance no matter what. Because it's you."
My words embolden him, and he gently pushes me back down to the bed, making me giggle.
"Well then, let us begin, Ms. Bracken," he grins, before asking. "How do you like it?"
"Tongue. I like lots of tongue—more licking than sucking," I tell him, biting my lips and trying not to hump the air like I'm in heat.
His eyes track the movements of my hips, and somehow they darken even more, his jaw locks, and my sweet, gentle giant is gone. He looks more like a starving beast than a man now.
"Sweet girl... my otter... my Sophie," he punctuates every statement with a kiss to my thighs, moving closer and closer to where I want him—need him.
I whimper, arching my back a bit, trying to give him the hint of where I need him—his mouth, his tongue. I need this connection. I lean up on my elbows to watch.
Callum ducks his head down, eyes still deadlocked on mine, and licks me right up the center.
"Oh!" I moan, not able to tear my eyes from the sight of his mouth on me. The dual sensation of sight and feel jolts pleasure through me hard.
He pauses, "Good?"
"Mhm..." My voice is breathless. “So good.”
Callum grins, almost a little smug, and the sight—the confidence I can feel rolling off him—is so hot. He leans down again and licks me again, then again, and again, before attaching his mouth to me and groaning.
"Callum," I cry out, dropping back onto the pillows. "Oh, fuck..."
It's never felt like this before, not with anyone who's ever done this to me. No one has given me pleasure like this, no one has made me feel this powerful, this desire, this loved.
I softly buck my hips, fucking his face a bit, and he seems to like it because his eyes brighten and he hums. His hands grip my thighs tightly, and he looks half-drugged now, possessed as he continues tonguing me.