My breath hitches as he pulls me closer, his other hand sliding around my waist. The air between us feels charged, like the calm before a storm, and I can’t look away from his ice-blue eyes, dark now with something that makes my stomach twist in anticipation.
“Callen,” I start, but the words die in my throat as his lips brush against my jaw, trailing down to the sensitive spot just below my ear.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” he murmurs, his teeth scraping lightly against my skin.
I swallow hard, my mind scrambling to form a coherent thought.“You’re… insufferable,” I manage, though my voice wavers.
He chuckles, the sound vibrating against my neck.“And yet, here you are.”
His hand slides up my back, fingers tangling in my hair as he tilts my head to meet his gaze. There’s no teasing now, just hunger, and it makes my knees weak.
“You don’t get to push me away, Brigid,” he says, his voice rough.“Not me.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he silences me with a kiss that’s anything but gentle. It’s demanding, possessive, and it leaves no room for doubt about how much he wants me. My hands find their way to his chest, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as I kiss him back. The taste of him is sharp, like winter air and something darker, addictive. I can’t help but lean into it, into him, even as a small part of me wants to pull away just to prove I can. But I don’t. I won’t. Not this time.
His lips break from mine, and he’s looking at me again, that same intensity in his eyes.“You’re mine, Brigid,” he murmurs, a low, threatening tone in his voice.“Say it.”
I shake my head, a smirk tugging at my lips despite the heat pooling low in my belly.“You’re going to have to make me.”
The corner of his mouth lifts, and there’s a flicker of amusement in his gaze.“Careful what you wish for.”
I know what’s coming. I’ve seen that look before—the one that says he’s about to follow through on a promise. My heart skips a beat, but I don’t back down. Instead, I tilt my chin up, meeting his stare with a challenge of my own.“Is that a threat, Your Majesty?”
His hand tightens in my hair, not enough to hurt, but enough to make my breath catch.“It’s a promise,” he says, his voice steady, but there’s an edge to it now, a hint of the king he’s becoming.“And you’ll do well to remember who you’re speaking to.”
I laugh, soft and breathless, because I can’t help it. He’s so serious, so determined, and it’s equal parts infuriating and irresistible.“Or what? You’ll punish me?”
He doesn’t hesitate.“Yes.”
The word sends a shiver down my spine, but it’s not fear that makes my pulse quicken. It’s anticipation. We’ve been here before, but this time feels different. Maybe it’s everything that’s happened, or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at me, like he’s already won.
“Go ahead,” I say, my voice steady despite the way my body feels like it’s on fire.“Try.”
For a moment, he doesn’t move, just stares at me with that same smirk. Then, without warning, he shifts, pulling me over his knee in one swift motion. My stomach flips, and I let out a startled gasp. But I don’t fight him. I can’t. Not when I’ve been waiting for this, craving it, even if I’d never admit it out loud.
His hand rests on the curve of my ass, warm through the fabric of my dress, and I bite my lip to keep from making a sound.“This is your last chance to behave,” he says, his tone calm, almost conversational.“Are you going to obey me, or do I need to remind you who’s in charge?”
I glance over my shoulder, meeting his gaze with my own smile.“Do your worst, Callen.”
His eyes darken, and I know he’s enjoying this as much as I am. The first strike lands hard, and I gasp, the sting sharp and immediate. My hands grip the edge of the bed, but I don’t try to move. I don’t want to. The second strike follows, then the third, each one sending a wave of heat through me that has nothing to do with pain. By the fourth, I’m squirming, my breath coming in short, uneven gasps, and I can feel how wet I am, how much my body is betraying me.
“Still feeling defiant, darling?” he asks, and I can hear the smirk in it even if I can’t see his face.
I don’t answer. I can’t. All I can do is press my face into the mattress and try to steady my breathing. His hand slides up my thigh, slow and deliberate, and I find my hips lifting instinctively toward his touch. He chuckles, the sound dark and full of promise.
His fingers brush against me where I’m most sensitive, and I gasp, the sensation is so intense. He doesn’t tease, doesn’t draw it out—he pushes two fingers roughly inside me, my wetness making it easy, then curling them just enough to make my back arch. I try to keep from crying out, but it’s useless. A low moan escapes me, and he laughs, the sound of his satisfaction sending a fresh wave of heat through me.
“You’re soaked,” he murmurs.
My mind is fogged with need, my body focused on the way his fingers move inside me, slow at first, then faster, deeper. I’m panting now, my hips rocking against his hand, and when pushing in a third finger, I nearly come undone right there. But he stops, pulling his hand away, and I whimper at the loss, my whole body trembling.
“Callen—”
He cuts me off, lifting me effortlessly and laying me down on the bed. His eyes lock on mine as he strips off his shirt, his muscles rippling with the movement. I can’t look away, can’t stop the ache that builds in my chest and between my legs. He’s so damn beautiful it hurts, and it scares me how much power he has over me, even as I crave it.
He kneels between my legs, his hands sliding up my thighs, spreading me open. His gaze is hungry and when he leans down to press his mouth against me, devouring me whole, I cry out. My hands grip in his hair, holding him there. His tongue is relentless, teasing and coaxing until I’m writhing beneath him, my breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. I feel the sharpness of his teeth as he bites softly, before soothing my clit with the tip of his tongue, swirling lightly in circles, then he sucks the whole bud into his mouth, hard.
“Callen, please—”
