He shakes his head from side to side, massaging himself in his hand. “That’s not how this works, little bluebird. I’m going to fuck you now. I’m going to fuck you hard, and I’m going to come inside you. Is that okay with you?”
I’m on birth control. When I lost our baby, I vowed I’d never have to hurt that badly ever again; since then I’ve always made sure I’ve been smart. The idea of Callan coming inside me right now is intense and such a turn on. I nod, biting down on my lower lip. Callan bends and throws me over his shoulder, making me squeal. He carries me through to the living room and places me down on the ground. The furniture is still covered with dustsheets, everything still wrapped up and hidden, as though the memories of the place can be kept at bay so long as nothing is as it once was. Callan holds himself over me, leaning into me so that he can kiss and bite my neck.
“When we’re done here, Coralie, you’re going to admit that you want to be with me. Then we’re going to figure this out. I don’t fucking care how. You’ll move to New York, or I’ll move to LA. It doesn’t matter to me. So long as we stop wasting our time and admit that we need to be together. Agreed?”
There are so many roadblocks standing in our way, so much water under the bridge, that saying yes right now seems like it would be a lie. I’m so caught up in him though; I want to believe there’s a way for us to make this work. I need to believe that somehow, after everything, we can find a way to finally be together. Fear races around my head on a relay, but I fight to shut it down. Not here. Not now.
“Okay,” I tell him, kissing him lightly on the chest. “Agreed.”
Callan fucks me then. He holds onto me so tightly as he pushes into me for the first time. I’m overcome with the most bittersweet swell of emotion as he presses his forehead against mine, trapping me in his gaze as he makes love to me. I hold onto him like my life depends on it. Gradually, our need for each other takes over. His movements become more and more demanding, his thrusting harder as he drives himself into me.
I rock against him, feeling my climax rising in me, threatening to steal my senses again. Callan cups my face with one hand, clenching his jaw. “Stay with me, bluebird. Stay with me.”
I keep my eyes open, watching him as he fucks me furiously. He is a work of art. The missing piece of me. A study in perfection. He tips his head back, his lips parting a little, and I can feel his cock growing so hard inside me. I’m almost certain that being so hard must be actually hurting him, but he shows no signs of discomfort as he slams himself into me over and over again.
“Tell me,” he grits out. “Tell me when you’re going to come.”
I would put that into words right now, but I can’t speak. I feel robbed of all language. I moan, nodding my head, telling him what he needs to know with my eyes as the beginnings of my orgasm ripple over me.
“Fuck.” Callan picks up his pace, and then the two of us are clinging onto each other, his face buried into my neck as we both come. I gouge my fingernails into his back, barely able to hold on as he hollers, riding out his climax. He pulses inside me, his cock remaining hard, the base still rubbing against my swollen clit as I fall apart.
Callan topples onto me, unable to keep his weight off me any longer, and the two of us lay absolutely still, panting, trying to catch our breath.
We’re silent for a long time. A heavy calm settles over us, pulling at us, beckoning us to sleep, but neither of us surrender. Callan strokes his hand over my hair in a soft repetitive way that brings tears to my eyes. After a long time, he pulls out of me and lies beside me, watching me as he continues to brush his hand over my head. He must see the tears in my eyes. I don’t mean to be pathetic. I don’t mean to be so emotionally crippled by what just happened, but it’s impossible to avoid. He wants to try and fix our lives now. He wants to try and come up with some plan that means we get to be like this together for the rest of our lives.
I need that more than my body needs oxygen to survive, but it can’t happen. Not without him knowing the whole truth. It’s almost as if Callan can read my thoughts. As a silent tear streaks down the side of my face, he threads his arm underneath my head and pulls me onto his chest. He kisses my temple and sighs. “Come on, Coralie,” he whispers into my ear. “This is make or break now, baby girl. Tell me what it is you need to tell me.”
So I do. I take a deep breath, gather every last meager scrap of courage I have, and I tell him. “I didn’t just lose the baby, Callan. My father…he found out I was pregnant. He went crazy. He…he beat me. He hurt me. He hurt me for hours, until…until our baby died. It’s all my fault, Callan. If I had said something to someone sooner, it would never have happened. I’m the reason he died, Callan. I may as well have killed him myself.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CORALIE
Calico
THEN