Page 187 of His Good Girl

“Take off your skirt.”The words sounded more dangerous now, lower, deeper. “Slowly.”

With trembling fingers, I unzipped the pencil skirt and slowly pushed it down my hips and thighs, stepping out of it one leg at a time. I was bare underneath, just as I had been that first time in his office.

“Perfect,” he growled, his eyes dark with hunger. “Now the blouse.”

I unbuttoned the ivory blouse, letting it fall open to reveal my naked breasts, my nipples already peaked with desire. I slid it off my shoulders and let it pool on the floor beside the skirt, leaving me in only my red heelsand nothing else.

He circled me slowly, his gaze devouring every inch of my exposed skin. “You are so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, stopping behind me. His hands slid up my arms, sending shivers down my spine. His words made me shudder with anticipation. He pressed against my back, his erection hard against my bareass through his trousers. One hand slid around to cup my breast, pinching my nipple just enough to make me gasp.

“I’m going to make you come so hard for me, right here in this room,” he whispered in my ear, his other hand sliding downmy stomach and settling in between my legs.

“Please,” I breathed, leaning back against him.

He chuckled darkly. “Not yet. First, I’m going to taste what’s mine.” He turned me around and lifted me onto the table, spreading my legs wide now. The cool marble against my overheated skin made me gasp. Callum knelt between my thighs, his eyes never leaving mine as he lowered his mouth to my pussy. The first touch of his tongue was electric. I cried out, my hands gripping the edge of the table as he licked and sucked with expert skill. He knew exactly how to drive me wild, alternating between gentle strokes and firm pressure, his fingers joining his tongue to push me higher and higher into the realm of sheer ecstasy.

“Callum,” I moaned, my hips bucking against his face. “I’m so close.”

He pulled back just enough to speak, his voice rough with desire. “Not yet. I want you screaming when you come.” Then his mouth was back on me, more relentless than before. His fingers curled inside me, finding that spot that made my vision white out. I was teetering on the edge when he suddenly stood, leaving me panting and desperate.

“Turn over,” he ordered, and I scrambled to obey, slipping off the table and bending over it. I heard him unfasten his belt, the sound making me whimper with need. Then he was behind me, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance.He pushedinside me in one smooth stroke, filling me completely. I cried out at the sensation, my inner walls clenching around him. He gave me a moment to adjust before setting a punishing rhythm, his hips slamming against my ass with each thrust. The table scraped against the floor with the force of his movements.

“Touch yourself,” he demanded. “I want to feel you come around my cock.”

I reached between my legs, my fingers finding my clit. The dual sensation of his thick cock pounding into me and my own fingers was incredible.

“Oh, Callum,” I moaned, “I’m going to come.”

“Do it,” he growled, his rhythm never faltering. “Come for me, Avery. Show me how much you love being mine.”

His words pushed me over the edge. My orgasm crashed through me, waves of pleasure so intense I screamed his name. My body clenched around him, milking his cock as he continued to thrust through my climax.

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, his movements becoming erratic. “I’m going to fill you up.”

A few more hard thrusts and he stilled, his cock pulsing inside me as he came with a deep, guttural sound. I could feel the warmth of his release deep inside, marking me as his in the most primal way.

We stayed like that for a moment, both breathing heavily, our bodies still joined. Then he slowly withdrew, turning me to face him. He kissed me deeply, his tongue claiming my mouth as his hands roamed my body possessively.

“I love you,” he murmured against my lips. “My beautiful, brilliant wife-to-be.”

I smiled against his mouth. “I love you too. My controlling, overbearing, perfect husband-to-be.”

* * *

Later, much later, when my blouse was buttoned wrong and my hair was ruined and Callum had used his pocket square to clean a smear of lipstick from the corner of my mouth with the profound concentration of a man restoring a historic masterpiece, I sat at the table again and ate one bite of chocolate tart watching my ring sparkling on my hand. Callum watched me closely enough to make me squirm.

“What?” I asked.

His mouth curved. “Nothing.”

“That is never true with you.”

“No,” he agreed. “It isn’t.”

I took another bite of tart. “Are you thinking about how to tell Benjamin?”

“I’m thinking Benjamin already knows.”

As if summoned by the unholy power of his own relevance, my phone buzzed.