He chuckled. “I ken.”
“I don’t think I can come again.”
His lips curved into a sinful grin. “Ye trust me, aye?”
She could only lie back as he explored her with languid strokes, each flick of his tongue drugging her with pleasure. Where her first climax under his mouth exploded in a rush, this building tensionwas more perilous, a structure standing on the edge of a cliff as the sea drags the earth away. He lapped at her, savored her, although the groans and muttered praise that reached her ears spoke of urgency, of a palpable need burning between them.
A strangled moan escaped as his finger slid into her channel, pumping while her interior walls clamped down around it. This was sweet, blissful torture, and she writhed against his mouth and hand, aching for climax but wishing he would continue forever.
She watched her orgasm approach like a coming storm until he crooked the finger inside her, touching the place that made her molten. Pleasure beset her, her body tensing and lips parting in a soundless cry. Callum moaned as he licked at her release, the storm raging in her until she collapsed onto the bench behind her.
She should be ashamed, lying naked with a man’s head still buried between her thighs, but none of the sickening guilt that had been her companion for the past year pushed into her thoughts. Callum made her invulnerable, as though his attention, his devotion, left her beyond harm.
He stroked a tangled lock of hair behind her ear. “Was that too much?”
A choked laugh escaped her. “Too much, in a delightful way.”
She shook herself free of his arms, then turned so she was straddling his thighs. Callum groaned as she rocked her bare mound against the rigid evidence of his arousal, still restrained by his bathing costume. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as she contemplated the considerable…challengebetween them.
“Show me,” she whispered in an echo of his earlier demand. “I want to see how you make yourself come.”
His eyes darkened and his lips parted on a groan. “Violet…” He shifted beneath her and winced.
Her throat was suddenly dry as she attempted an authoritative tone. Alas, her words emerged breathy. “Show me, please.”
He leaned back, his broad chest straining as he stretched one arm across the back of the bench. His other hand dropped between them to palm the pulsing ridge. “Are ye certain?”
She nodded. Callum smirked.
“You needn’t look so arrogant.” She lifted her chin in an effort to appear collected, but her insides were melting into a puddle of aroused goo. “It’s merely a fluke of biology that you’ve ended up with such a noteworthy appendage.”
He rocked against his palm, lifting her with the movement. “Noteworthy?”
What should she do with her hands? She wanted to touch him, to memorize every part of his body. She put her palms on his shoulders. “If I had paper, I’d be taking notes.”
“Ye’ll have to commit it to memory.” His jaw ticked. “I dinnae want to rush ye, but—“
“Right. Do I—“
“Easy, lass.” He brushed his nose against hers, a remarkably innocent gesture for the wicked things they were doing. He tugged down the waistband of his bathing trunks and took himself in hand.
For as wantonly as Violet had behaved at this party, she gasped like the worst of prudish misses when she saw his cock. True, she had little grounds for comparison, but surely this was an abnormally large—
“Ye’ll give me a big head if ye keep looking at me like that.”
“It appears you have a big enough head as it is.”
He chuckled, but his body vibrated with tension. “Shall I give ye a show, then?”
She wished for a witty retort, but anything she may have conjured died on her tongue when he stroked himself. His groan rattled through her, sending arousal swirling through her veins and pooling between her thighs. His head fell back, the cords of his neck straining, and, not for the first time, she appreciated his strength, the sheer power of his body. He could have overpowered her with ease, but kept himself leashed, always contained and controlled with her. How unfair that the universe would cross her path with his when they could never last together.
“Can I touch you?” she whispered.
“Fuck, aye,” he hissed, his breath catching as she wrapped her palm around his length. He covered her hand with his own, then his head lolled against the bench and he moaned, squirmed beneath her. She wanted to know everything about him, to discover what would make him lose control, make him lost to pleasure. “I willnae last, not with ye—“
She stopped her movements. “Am I doing something wrong?”
“No, Vi, never.” He brought her hand to his cock. “It’s ye. I cannae last when it’s ye.”
