“I don’t want…I don’t want anything. I just—“
“Your mouth’s saying one thing, but your body’s telling a very different story, Coralie. I know which I plan on listening to.” He spins me around and grabs hold of me by my hips, bending me over. I gasp when he takes hold of my panties and tears them down, forcefully lifting my feet so he can get rid of them once and for all. I’m bare then, exposed. Callan runs his hands over my back, over my hips and down my buttocks. I feel so vulnerable. Torn between two polar extremes—to slap him in the face, grab my clothes and run out of here, or just jump him, fuck him senseless. Let him do whatever he wants to me. Use me.
I’m debating which one of these courses of action I should choose when Callan makes the decision for me. I’m wet, seriously turned on and flustered, and Callan makes matters a hundred times worse when he carefully, slowly inserts a finger inside me. I lose any and all ability to think straight. In fact, my brain quits working altogether.
“Tell me you don’t want that to be my cock, Coralie. Tell me, and I’ll know you’re fucking lying. I can feel how tight you are. I can feel how badly you want this.” He slides another finger into my pussy, and I can’t help myself anymore. My body acts of it’s own accord, and I’m pushing back against him, grinding against his hand.
“That’s what I thought.” Callan stops all of a sudden, withdrawing all contact. One minute he’s as close as he can be, touching me, inside me. The next he’s just…gone. I whimper, my back arching, my skin breaking out in goose bumps. “All you have to do is say it, bluebird. All you have to do is ask for it. I’ll give you my cock. I’ll give you everything you need and more. I know how to take care of you. Do you trust me?”
It’s a strange question: do you trust me? We’ve been apart for so long. I barely even know him anymore. And yet, I do. I know him on a level that surpasses friendship or even family. He’s simply a part of me, and so I find myself trusting him regardless. I shouldn’t. It’s not safe.
“Coralie. Tell me. I’m not fucking playing. Say. It.”
“Fine. Fine! I want you. I fucking want you, okay?” I can’t believe he’s gotten me to admit this. I feel weak and empowered at the same time. Callan sounds like a wild animal as he takes hold of me. His hands are rough, pulling at me, guiding me back. He releases me for a moment, and I turn around. He’s yanking his shirt off over his head, and I’m suddenly overcome with adrenaline. I’m really doing this. It’s really about to happen. Callan Cross is about to fuck me. He kicks out of his jeans and his boxers, pulling them both down at the same time, and then he’s naked. He’s naked and he’s standing in front of me, palming his own cock, growling under his breath. He’s magnificent.
“Lie down on the ground and spread your legs, bluebird,” he commands. I feel completely out of my depth, but I do it anyway. Callan stands over me, studying every last inch of me, the most intense expression on his face. He shakes his head, his lips curling up at one side. ”You’re about to come so hard,” he tells me. “You have no fucking idea.”
He shows me, though. He doesn’t touch my pussy again. He holds himself over me, still shaking his head, and then he slams himself inside me. He feels huge, so hard and rigid. I feel like I’ve had the wind knocked out of me. Callan bares his teeth, grinding them together as he slowly begins to thrust himself into me. I can feel myself tightening around him as he speeds up, fucking me harder. Neither of us is going to last very long, I can tell.
Callan hisses, swearing as I dig my fingernails into his back. Soon I’m panting, barely keeping my shit together, and Callan is shaking. He licks and bites at my neck, sucking hard, squeezing my breasts as he rocks against me. Our bodies fit together perfectly; my clit feels like it’s on fire as he grinds his pelvis against mine, causing the most amazing friction.
“Fuck, Callan. I’m going to come. I’m going to—“ Speech becomes impossible. My back arches off the ground, and Callan curses. He presses his forehead against mine, eyes locking onto mine, jaw clenched as he fucks me even harder. I fall apart, my vision blurring as my orgasm rockets through me. I can’t catch a breath. When I do, it’s to scream out his name, to beg and plead him not to let me go.
“I’m not going to, bluebird,” he whispers into my hair. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere. I am not going anywhere.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
CALLAN
Friday
NOW