Kallum made a noise. “You look at me like that, and we’re going to break the rules.”
“There are rules?”
“The big one is no sex stuff.” Another wicked smile. “For employees and patrons at least.”
“A good thing you’re not on the North Pole payroll then,” I observed, and he laughed as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.
“But for the sake of the experience, we should pretend, my sex scene padawan,” he said, moving over to a table in the corner of the room. I wasn’t sure what he was doing over there—his back was to me—but then a rich, mellow beat began to fill the room. A song.
Kallum set his phone down and turned to me, and suddenly I wasn’t in the room with my playful costar, but with a performer, with a man who knew how to captivate an audience, even if that audience was just one woman who used to think she could get pregnant from a hot tub.
He walked toward me with measured, arrogant steps, his eyes entirely on me, his body somehow utterly fluid and also utterly under his control. When the beat pulsed, his body did too, and when the melody rolled, so did his hips. I’d never thought thatwalkingcould be sexy, so filled with the idea of sex, but sex was in every step and shift, every gesture, every look.
And thelooks. At first, I couldn’t suppress the nervous smile on my lips as he came closer, feeling abruptly self-conscious, even though, if anything, Kallum was the one in the room who had the most claim to self-consciousness. But that was the thing I’d noticed about Kallum over the last few days on set—he was possibly the least self-conscious person I’d ever met. Everything he did, he did with that same earnest, easy attitude, and I’dnever met someone who was both wholehearted and also absolutely relaxed about it too. Like it didn’t matter if some blocking wasn’t working or if we had to do another take or if a joke fell flat. He would just shrug and grin and then try again.
It was captivating, infectious. It made me want to be more like him, both easier and more eager; living in the moment but also not needing the moment to bear the impossible weight of perfection.
And so my self-consciousness gradually dissolved as he stopped in front of me and moved to the beat of the song. There was only me and him and the music.
No one had ever looked good taking off any shirt without buttons, but somehow Kallum did just then, making it look easy, making it look natural. Inevitable. And still moving to the music, he started unbuckling his belt, the tendons in his hands and forearms flexing as he loosened the leather and worked it through the frame of the buckle. He dropped the belt and unzipped his jeans. And even though it was regular old boxer briefs underneath—patterned with pizza slices to boot—it was still like a punch to the gut to see his thighs and hips with nothing but the thin cotton between his skin and my gaze.
And his penis—his—hisdick—was clearly outlined in the fabric too. Thick and heavy and halfway hard, and I wanted it so much. I wanted to touch it, I wanted to taste it.
The thought consumed me, the idea that I could hold it in my hand, that I could watch him get all the way erect as I explored him with my fingers. I could measure with my fingertips how plump the head was, I could see if there were any veins for me to trace...
I bit my lip hard, feeling so wet and achy inside that it hurt, and then a groan ripped from Kallum’s chest.
I looked up to see his eyes blazing down at me, and then he was on his knees in front of me, shoving my skirt up to my waist and hooking his fingers around the sides of my panties.
“You said there was no sex stuff in a private room,” I said, half laughing, half whimpering as I lifted my hips and he pulled my underwear down to my ankles and then dropped it on top of his discarded jeans. “And that we should pretend for the experience.”
“Fuck the experience,” he growled. He looked up at me with his hands on my bare thighs. “I want to eat your cunt. Can I?”
I’d only ever heard theC-word from Addison’s lips—usually while she was driving on the 101—and it knocked the breath right out of me with its blunt obscenity.
“God, yes,” I groaned, spreading my thighs so he could see me. My cunt. “Please. Please.”
He grabbed my bottom with his hands, hands big enough to splay easily around my cheeks, and yanked me to the edge of the chair. “God, you’re so fucking wet,” he said, his voice a groan of urgent awe. He pressed his nose to me and inhaled, and I closed my eyes, quivering. “Open your eyes, Winnie Baker,” he said. “Watch me.”
I did as he asked and opened my eyes. In time to see him smell me again, to see how his eyelashes rested on his cheeks as he leaned in and planted a soft kiss on my swollen clit. I was squirming without meaning to, and he moved his hands from my bottom to my hips, clamping me down to the chair and holding me still for the first long, hot lick of his tongue.
“Kallum.” My breath was shuddering in and out. “Oh God. Please.”
“Mmm,” he responded, already diving back in. His tongue was warm and strong and slick, and he found my entrance and began licking in earnest.
I arched against him, already dizzy with pleasure. This was more than being primed for sex. This was because ofhim, because of the eager, greedy noises he made, because of the way he would pull away to spread my pussy with his thumbs and then stare at it with a wet mouth and heaving breaths. Michael had only done this a handful of times, and every time had been unsatisfying and short, and then when I wouldn’t react the way he wanted, he would tell me that it was okay that I didn’t like it and stop.
Meanwhile, Kallum was eating me as if he’d snarl and snap like a trapped animal if someone tried to pull him away.
The music was a dark, thrumming beat now, a song I didn’t recognize because it was music I wasn’t allowed to listen to growing up, and he was fluttering the tip of his tongue and sucking and letting me twist my fingers in his hair and hold his face harder and harder against my sex. And his shoulders were wide between my thighs, spreading them apart, and when he looked up at me, I finally knew what he meant byattention.
I was the only person in the world for him right now.
Just as he was for me.
The orgasm ripped through me like I was made of paper, and I crumpled over him, still holding his face against my pussy, still rocking against his mouth as much as I was able. The music was loud enough that it took a moment for me to realize Iwas making wild, indecent noises, that anyone who heard them would know Winnie Baker was having A Very Good Time. But who could care? When Kallum had a mouth this wicked? When his shoulders pried me open, when his eyes were that intense and glittering in the near dark?
The pleasure kept tearing through me, a pleasure I wouldn’t have thought possible before now, because even my betrothed, the Peppermint Stick, couldn’t hold a candle to this. And Kallum kept eating me through it all, these gorgeous noises rumbling from his throat, like my climax was his favorite meal and he would happily eat it forever.
