The entire ride to my apartment had been made in simmering silence—the tension between us thick enough to slice. The anticipation felt borderline painful. I sat in the passenger seat, squeezing my thighs together and uselessly trying to find some relief from this ache between my legs.
Callum noticed this, of course. His dark eyes kept glancingover to me, his pupils completely blown, dropping to my lap before snapping back to the road. His jaw clenched, and he white knuckled the steering wheel as he drove carefully through town.
I knew he could feel it too.
The cab of his truck had felt almost uncomfortably warm—not because of the heater, but because my entire body felt like it was burning from the inside out with need for him.
Once I unlock the front door and we step inside, Callum's control snaps, and he backs me up against the door, his mouth covering mine. There's a desperate urgency in our touches. His hands roam along my body, holding my hips, one arm sliding up my back, and the other wrapping around my waist to press me closer. It leaves a trail of fire in its wake, and I need these clothes gone and his hands on my skin.
"Bedroom," I pant against his mouth, squeaking when he lifts me off the ground with ease. That high-pitched sound makes him chuckle, that rich, gravelly laugh I love—I know I'm quite petite, but the way he can just lift me up with no effort really does it for me. My legs wrap around his waist, and I can't help but move my hips when I feel his hard cock in his pants.
Knowing the layout of my apartment by now, he navigates us to the bedroom, and we tumble onto the bed together. Ever the careful giant, Callum catches himself before he crushes me. I yank him down anyway, needing his lips on mine and kiss him deeply, tangling our tongues together. I can feel his legs moving and the heavy thuds on the floor as he kicks off his boots. He then pulls back, carefully unlaces, and pulls my shoes off as well.
When he comes back to me, he brushes a strand of hair from my face. I realize that I still have my wig on.
"Wait, let me—" I tell him, and he immediately stops, pulling back.
Callum watches me intently as I gently pull the wig off, feeling a slight ripple of vulnerability pass through me. Onlyfor a moment, though, because when I look back at Callum, his expression never changes. No hesitation, no flicker of disgust or disappointment. He still looks at me with those hungry eyes, like he's ravenous for me. Chancing a glance down, I see the outline of his cock through his jeans, and I smile—feeling desired and beautiful.
Callum helps me stand up, and I walk over to the dresser where I had placed the mannequin head, and lay the wig on it carefully, as Sasha showed me.
When I walk back to the bed, Callum stands up and cups my face in his warm hands.
"God, you are so damn beautiful," he says, his voice a low murmur. He tilts my face, and I giggle when he leans in, and the gentle scratch of his beard tickles me. He kisses my cheeks, my forehead, my eyes, before finally meeting my lips again. The gentle worship in his touch makes me feel precious.
His one hand goes to the back of my head, and the other tightens around my lower back as he guides us back and lowers us down to my bed. My legs immediately wrap around his hips, and he mindlessly grinds himself into me, and I let out a breathy moan from the friction.Oh, wow...
"That feels so good," I whisper, flicking my tongue out against his upper lip before nipping it.
"Yeah?" he asks, like he's cataloguing every response I give. He's not just pleasuring me, he's learning me—what I like, what makes me moan, what makes me come undone.
"So good, Callum," I respond before pushing him back and grabbing the bottom of his shirt. He nods his head, and I lift the bottom of his shirt up. He helps me, grabbing the back of his shirt and lifting it over his head, revealing his chest to me for the first time.
"Oh," I breathe when I finally get a look at him. Callum isn't sculpted or shredded. He's not carved from marble. He's perfect.He's broad and strong and warm, with a healthy dusting of dark hair across his chest and trailing down his belly and lower. My imagination was really damn close, but the real thing is so, so, so much better. "Callum, you're..."
That unsure, almost self-conscious look he had on his face when I first took his shirt off melts away, and his grin is almost a smirk at my no doubt shell-shocked look. "I'm... ?"
"Incredible," I lean forward and kiss his chest, almost purring at the concentrated scent of him. "Handsome. Gorgeous.Mine."
Something about the last word changes him. It's like I just flipped a switch, and his sweet, tender eyes darken. He grabs me, his grip on my body is tighter than usual. It's not rough or painful, just firm and hungry and wanting.
I love it.
I love both sides of this man—my soft, gentle giant, and now my wild feral beast.
"Yours," Callum murmurs, catches my chin between his fingers, and pulls me into a kiss that feels claiming. "Mine," he growls against my mouth. I open my mouth to deepen the kiss more, moaning as our tongues meet and tangle in their own dance. He tastes so good, like coffee and something that's just distinctly him.
Callum's hands trail to the bottom of my sweater, and he looks at me with a silent question in his eyes. I nod my head and raise my arms, allowing him to slip the sweater over my head, along with my white undershirt. Thankfully, I picked a cute bra today—the nude lacy one that hugs the girls quite well.
Without thought, I reach back and undo my bra, and Callum meets my eyes again as he reaches forward, grabbing the straps, and I nod once more, allowing him to pull it off of me. When I'm bared to him, he looks, and he smiles, "I was right, spectacular. Just like the rest of you."
"Ridiculous," I grin and lean forward to kiss him, feeling hishands lightly trail up my sides until they're touching my breasts. I moan at the contact as he caresses them, holding the weight of them. They're not super large, but I like their size—I'm around a size B, and during my upcoming consultation with the plastic surgeon, I'll ask for a similar size. I know I'll lose some sensation after the surgery, which I already feel like I'm mourning, but... I'd much rather be alive.
Callum's hands don't linger on my breasts, which I am honestly a little thankful for. I'm not sure how far I want this to go, or how far he's willing to go, and I don't want to think about it right now. I just want to feel him. His hands trail down my sides and pause at my jeans.
"Can I go down on you, baby?" Callum asks, his voice taking on an inflection like he's almost begging to do it.
I moan softly just from the question itself, eagerly nodding my head. With shaking hands, he undoes my jeans' button and slips them off, along with my underwear. He doesn't look at me yet; he keeps his eyes deadlocked on mine, his face serious and his cheeks a little flushed. "I've... I've never done this before."
