“You won’t hurt me. After everything you’ve done, from saving me to—” My skin burns hotter and my sex clenches, “—pleasuring me, I know you won’t. Just please, Callan… Touch me before I start really begging for it.”
Thankfully, he does. Though, he doesn’t go back to my chest, not at first. Instead, he moves toward my thighs. Cupping mypussy, I feel his fingers part my lips before he lets out a pained sound.
“Still warm and soft…” Instead of going for my clit like before, he pushes a finger inside of me, and the stretch is so foreign, I don’t know what to think about it. He doesn’t let me try to figure it out, not when he’s leaning over me to press his mouth to my breasts instead.
Callan seems to know my body better than I do. Calling me sensitive is an understatement. All I need is the graze of his teeth and the flick of his tongue to arch against his overwhelming wave of touches.
One finger becomes two, and my thighs are already shaking. Reaching for his shoulders, I give them both a squeeze as I try to cling on. The last thing I want to do is come undone and end this early if more exhaustion comes in. He’s too caring of a man to want to ignore my needs to seek out his own pleasure.
Dragging his lips up toward my thigh, he laps at my skin like I’m the tastiest thing in existence. Flicking his tongue against my racing pulse, he pumps his fingers at the same pace. Slow and torturous. He must really want me to beg. Especially when his thumb suddenly joins the mix, finally giving attention to the sensitive nub above. His little circles are what make me meet my downfall.
Crying out his name, in both frustration and in pleasure, I expect him to pull away. To say this is enough. But then, while my vision is growing less fuzzy, I see him pulling back long enough to grip the top of his pajama pants.
The relief that fills me lasts as long as it takes for him to reveal his cock. Like him, it’s big. Thick at the base with a painful-looking vein running along the length of his shaft, I can only imagine what he’s felt after waiting so long to address it.
Without his fingers, my walls flutter around open air. I’m nervous, sure, but I want it. I want him. Reaching out for him in a daze, I watch him squeeze himself with a pained groan.
“Just looking at you makes me wonder if I’ll survive this.” Shaking his head, he fits himself between my thighs. His blunt head presses against my entrance, and I hold my breath. It’s different from his fingers. Wider. Hotter. And when he starts to push, I feel every millimeter of the stretch.
“You’re so tight,” he grits out, and he has to push my thighs further apart just to make enough room for him. His arms cage me in, muscles trembling with the effort it takes to hold back. “God, Emery. This is what torture really is.”
For him, or for me? The stretch brings a slow burn that only grows as he works his way inside. I can feel his carefulness as he only pushes a little in at a time. At this rate, I’m worried that he’ll change his mind before he goes all the way through with it.
“Don’t stop.” My fingers dig into his shoulders as I drag him toward me. “Please. I want this. I want you.”
My words push him to swoop down and kiss me just like before. Except, there isn’t any room for hesitation, only hunger. Happily swallowing down my whimper, his tongue flickers against mine as he pushes himself only halfway.
The pressure builds, that foreign fullness spreading through me in waves. It doesn’t hurt, not like I thought it would, but my body doesn’t know what to do with something this size. My inner walls grip him, try to push him out, and he moans against my lips.
One of his hands slides between us, thumb finding my clit again. The touch makes my hips jump, and he uses that moment of distraction to push deeper. I feel myself give way, feel the slow invasion of him spreading me open inch by inch.
“Oh.” The sound escapes me, small and surprised. “Oh, Callan—”
“I know.” His voice is wrecked. “I know, sweetheart. You’re doing so good. Taking me so well.”
His thumb keeps moving, those little circles that drive me crazy, and somewhere in the haze of pleasure and pressure, I realize I’m lifting my hips to meet him. Wanting more. Needing it.
He takes the invitation. Another push and he’s seated deeper, the head of him slipping past something that makes me gasp. There’s a sting, brief and sharp, but it’s swallowed by the wave of sensation that follows. The fullness. The way I can feel him everywhere.
Breaking our kiss, his panting is ragged against my ear as I realize what’s happened. He’s inside. All of him, every single inch. I didn’t think I could do it, but here I am, pulse racing and body clenching.
“Wrap your legs and arms around me.” Another order, this one coming out of him far rougher.
Like every time before, I can’t help but do as I’m told. Once I’m clinging onto him, trying to prepare for whatever is coming, he kisses my neck once more on a spot already sore from his teeth before finally,finally, moving.
8
Callan
She’s so tight. Every time my hips roll forward, it feels like she’s going to suck me inside and never let me leave. And after feeling this warm, perfect embrace, I don’t think I want to leave, either. Not ever.
I know I should be careful with her—she’s still healing—but the sounds she’s making, the way her nails are digging into my shoulders, the way her eyes are half-closed and glazed with pleasure… slowing down isn’t an option. It’s not possible. Not when she’s looking at me like that.
But I’m getting close. Too close. The pressure is building at the base of my spine, a familiar coil tightening with every stroke. I need more. I need to be in her, completely.
In a daze, I pull back just enough to loosen her grip on me. Unhooking her legs, I fight to catch my breath.
“Need deeper,” I manage to grunt, already reaching for her ankle.
