God damn it. My heart is thrumming like a bird trapped in a cage, batting against my ribs at an alarming pace. I am outside of myself, above myself, looking down on the scene below, watching my hands as my thumbs carefully hook underneath the lace over my hips and I tease the material over my skin, down my legs. I don’t recognize myself. I would never do this for Ben. There isn’t another man alive that I would do this for. I kick out of my underwear, heat flooding my cheeks, undoubtedly staining them red.
“God,” Callan groans. “Open them. Open your legs for me.” His hand reaches down, where he cups himself, the outline of his erection hard in his hand. He squeezes, and my own hands twitch, as if I can feel him myself—how rigid and urgent his body has become. I want to suck him. Lick him. Tease him with my mouth. Taste the sweetness of him on my tongue. Feel his cock growing harder and harder as he tiptoes closer to the edge. My need for him surprises me, almost takes my breath away. I spread my legs wide, angling my hips upwards so he can see me properly, and Callan takes a deep breath. He holds it in his chest as he takes three steps toward me and readies the camera.
“I’ve never forgotten,” he says. “You were the first girl I ever touched. The first girl I ever tasted. The first girl I was inside. Every single woman I’ve been with since has been a shadow of you. They’ve never been this perfect. I’ve never wanted to exhaust myself making them come with my tongue the way I’m about to do with you. I’ve never wanted to feel them tighten around my dick as they scream out my name. I’ve never wanted to feel them come all over me as I seal my body with theirs. It’s always been mechanical. My heart hasn’t been in it, because it’s been with you all along.” He’s close enough to reach out and take my hand now. He guides me down, so that I’m touching myself between my legs, my fingers wet and slick as I realize how turned on I am. “I want to watch,” he breathes. “Stroke your clit for me, Coralie. Show me how badly you want me.”
I am no longer myself. I’m someone else, someone far braver and far more sexually awakened. Coralie Taylor isn’t the kind of girl to masturbate in front of anyone. She’s the kind of girl who makes herself come in the shower, quickly, efficiently, always trying to distance herself from her need for release. The girl I am right now, this strange, deviant person, lightly touches her fingertips to her pussy, moving her index finger over her clit in a slow, lazy circle, just as the beautiful man standing before her has bid her to.
Callan sighs, huffing out his breath hard enough that he makes a frustrated, pained sound. “Jesus, Coralie. That’s going to be my tongue soon. You have no idea how good I’m going to make you feel. I’m gonna make you fall apart, and when I do, I’m not going to stop. I’m going to slide myself inside you and fuck you until you can’t even remember your own name. I’m going to fuck you so hard that the past twelve years won’t matter anymore. I’m going to make you come so hard on my dick that you’re never going to want to be without me again.”
As he tells me this, I move my finger in a tighter circle, feeling my clit grow more swollen and sensitive. I’m already shivering, my body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure strikes me, making the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “Fuck, Callan. This is…this is crazy.”
“It’s about to get crazier.” Callan leans in very close and ducks down. He swears as he takes a photograph of my fingers, sliding inside my pussy. “Ah, shit. Fuck this.” He puts the camera down on the kitchen counter, growling under his breath. “I can’t wait any longer. Stop touching yourself, Coralie.”
It’s hard to do that, though. I want him so badly. I want to feel him inside me. The slow burn prickling through my body is almost addictive. I continue to stare up at him as I push my fingers inside myself—I know I look defiant right now, daring him to do something about my misbehavior. Callan doesn’t disappoint. He grabs hold of me by the wrist and forces my hand up. My fingers are shiny and glistening; Callan takes one look at them and hums, the vibration coming deep from within his chest.
“I’ve been waiting so long for this, bluebird. I’ve woken up in a cold sweat countless times, imagining what you would taste like on my tongue. Show me what I’ve been missing, baby. Feed me.”
He doesn’t let go of my hand. Instead he draws it up, closer to his mouth, close enough for me to curl my fingers toward him and rub the pad of my index against his lips. Callan can barely hold back. I can see the strain on his face as I gently insert the tip of my finger into his mouth. He goes to lick me, the point of his tongue darting out past his lips, but I jerk my fingers away, smiling.
“Oh god. Fuck, Coralie. Don’t fucking play with me.”
I give him what he needs. I press my fingers together, letting him have them, and Callan sucks them clean, his body vibrating with lust.