I hear the rustle of clothing, then feel the bed dip as he positions himself behind me. His naked skin against mine is electrifying. He reaches around, his fingers finding my still-sensitive clit and working slow circles.
"You're so wet," he murmurs appreciatively. "But we need more for what I have in mind."
The snap of a bottle cap makes me tense slightly. Cold liquid drips between my cheeks, making me flinch.
"Easy," Callen soothes, his finger tracing the slick path, circling my entrance. "Breathe for us."
I inhale deeply, trying to relax as he presses one finger inside. The sensation is foreign, intrusive at first, then curiously pleasurable as he works me open with careful precision.
"That's it," he encourages, adding a second finger. "You're taking it so well. So tight."
His other hand never stops its attention to my clit, the dual sensations making me push back against him involuntarily.
"Look at you," he says, his tone both mocking and admiring. "You were always fighting your own desires. Not anymore."
He withdraws his fingers, and I feel the blunt pressure of his cock against my entrance. He's thick, and despite his preparation, I clench with anxiety.
"Breathe," he reminds me, his hand stroking my hair with unexpected tenderness. "I won't hurt you. Not unless you ask me to."
The pressure increases slowly as he pushes inside, inch by careful inch. It burns, a fullness that hovers between pleasure and pain. I bite the pillow, muffling my sounds.
"No," Callen says sharply, pulling the pillow away. "We want to hear you. Every gasp, every moan."
He's sheathed fully now, his hips flush against my ass. He stays still, allowing me to adjust to his size, his hands kneading my hips, my waist, my breasts—never letting me forget who's in control.
"How does it feel?" he asks, his voice tight with restraint. "Having me inside you like this?"
"Full," I manage, surprised by how husky my voice sounds. "I feel so full."
"Good," he says, and begins to move—shallow thrusts at first, then deeper, more confident strokes. "Because I'm going to fill you in ways you've never imagined."
Each thrust sends frissons of pleasure through me, unfamiliar and intense. When his fingers return to my clit, circling in time with his strokes, I cry out, my body responding eagerly now.
"That's right," he says, his pace increasing. "Take all of me. Show me you're not afraid of what you want."
I push back against him, meeting his thrusts, the initial discomfort melting into pure pleasure. He grabs my hair, pulling my head back, forcing my spine to arch.
"This is real power, Brigid. The power to make you beg, to make you come apart."
"Please," I beg.
"Please what?" he demands, his hips snapping against me harder.
"Please don't stop," I pant. "I need—I need—"
"To come?" he suggests, his fingers quickening their pace on my clit. "Then come for us, Brigid. Show us how much you need this."
His words break something loose inside me. I surrender completely, letting go of the control I've clung to so desperately. The orgasm crashes through me, more intense than before, my inner muscles clenching around him as I cry out his name.
Callen groans, his rhythm faltering as he drives into me one final time, pulsing inside me as he finds his own release. For a moment, we're frozen together, joined in the most intimate way possible.
Then he collapses beside me, pulling me against his chest, his breath hot against my neck. He presses his lips to my shoulder in an almost tender gesture.
"Sometimes giving up control is exactly what you need," he murmurs.
I say nothing, but in the silence, I acknowledge the truth of his words. With him, with all of them, I'm finding freedom in surrender, a paradox I never expected to embrace.
Before I can fully catch my breath, a presence shifts in the room. The shadows in the corners deepen, pulse, and stretch toward the bed. I shiver with recognition. Even with my eyes closed, I'd know this presence—this energy.
