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“I know. Me too.” I laugh drily. “Anyway, have fun at the bar.”
“Keep me posted, Conrad.”
“Will do. Speak later.”
I hang up and walk into the kitchen, grabbing a paper towel and returning to the balcony. I wrap the pink underwear in the towel, doing my best not to touch it, not to be near it. I don’t want anything to do with it.
Once I’ve placed it in a drawer in the living room – out of sight – I decide it’s probably time to get some sleep. Or at least try to get some sleep. I know it’s going to be difficult with thoughts of Callie whirring around my mind.
I walk down the hallway toward my bedroom, passing Mrs. Simpkin’s room – even if she asked me to call her Janet, it’s difficult to let my manners go completely – which is silent.
Then I walk by Callie’s room and something freezes inside of me.
Is she moaning in there?
Stalking forward, I press my ear against the door and listen intently. Through the thick wood, I can hear her voice raised in a lilting tenor, dancing in the air. It’s like she’s trying to stay quiet, but she can’t help herself.
“Oh, oh, oh.”
She moans, each oh sending a shot of lust right to the base of my length, my manhood pulsing and burning with the desire to charge in there.
“Oh, oh, ah, ah.”
Her voice raises in pitch and suddenly my hand is sliding down my body, toward my groin, my engorged head pushing against my pants like it’s trying to break the zipper.
I swallow as I curl my hand into a fist, telling myself I can’t do this, I can’t touch myself over her without her knowing.
But there’s no damn way I can walk away now, not after hearing her voice filled with so much lust.
I know I should wait because I won’t be able to stop myself once I start. I won’t be able to keep from tearing off her clothes and taking her like the savage I am, and I haven’t even told her everything yet.
I haven’t told her about the mess with the little surprise outside my door. I haven’t told her how much she means to me, what she means to me, how I’m going to claim her every day for the rest of our lives.
But none of that matters.
My seed is shooting through me with savage intent, commanding me to take her, take her now.
I push the door open.
Chapter Eight
Callie
I tried to fight the urge as I lay in bed, tried not to think about the way he grabbed me when he kissed me, the way his hands sunk into my hips and smoothed around to my ass. I tried to remember those possible panties on the door handle and the way he quickly shoved them into his pocket.
But then the whirring thoughts got the better of me and I couldn’t stop myself from reaching between my legs and pressing down on my needy bud, rubbing softly at first as I imagined his rock hard body pressed against mine, as I imagined him pushing me closer and closer to the bed.
Soft moans escape my lips despite my efforts to stop them, as I envision Conrad looming over me, his manhood in his hand, stoking glistening precome all over his massive shaft.
I felt how big he was against my belly.
But in my fantasies, I don’t have to stress about disappointing him, about not being able to please such an experienced and massive man. In my fantasies I climb atop him and grind my body against his, sitting down on his massive length and sassily staring down at him.
“Ride me, Callie,” he snarls, and I start to bounce, to shift my hips up and down as—
I stop when I hear footsteps approaching, opening my eyes and sitting up.
A gasp escapes me.
Conrad stands in the center of the dark room, a hulking silhouette. The only light comes from the window, letting in a little moonlight, giving him even more of a savage wolfish look.
He smirks as he walks right to the edge of the bed, kneeling down and staring hard at me.
“What were you thinking about, you horny girl?” he growls, a carnal shiver in his voice.
“I was…”
My mouth is dry and words are difficult to access, his attention suppressing my ability to think.
“Callie,” he snarls.
His hand slides under the covers and he grips onto my thigh, bare in my shorts, squeezing so sizzling sensations slither up and down my leg, whispering hotly around my clit, my sex pulsing and aching as he moves higher, closer.
“I can feel how wet you are.” He brings his face close to mine, our lips brushing. “Now, be a good girl and tell me who you were thinking about.”
“You,” I whimper, as his hand gets closer and closer to my sex.
