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“Callum, I—”
I’m cut off with a quick nip to my ear. “Just listen, baby girl. Let me tell you what I see.”
“Okay.”
“Good girl.” Callum steps back just enough to pull my top over my head and then he’s back, skin on skin, my back to his chest. “When I look at you, Venus, I see a future I’d never wanted before. I see holidays all over the world. I see candlelit dinners.” Strong fingers undo the delicate bow at my waist before pushing my bottoms down. They fall to my feet, leaving me bare to his eyes. No underwear. No barriers. There’s lust in those eyes when they meet mine again, but something else pushes forward—an emotion that I don’t understand but find myself wanting to. “I see a woman who’s sweet and pure with a body I want to worship for years to come. You, my perfect girl, are a gift I plan to cherish, and you have a heart I’ll nurture. You deserve the world, Aliana, and I’ll give it to you. I’ll help you see what everyone else does when they look at you.”
“And what’s that?” I whisper shakily, my eyes misting. “How do others see me?”
“A smart, gorgeous, and goal-oriented young woman that doesn’t need a man to give her value, but when she allows one to stand beside her, he’ll be the envy of every bloody bastard alive. They see a woman full of so much love and loyalty. They see a woman who deserves to have the world bow at her feet, and one day, I plan to make that a reality.”
“Thank you.” Those words fill my heart and warm my soul. To have someone like him see me like this… Jesus. With him, I feel like someone and not a commodity. “That means a lot.”
“That’s not enough for how special you are.” Placing one last kiss, this time on my cheek, he steps back and holds out a hand. “Come take a shower with me.”
I just took one and the proof still lingers in my hair, but I place my palm in his and let him lead me toward the shower where he turns the lever and waits a second for it to heat. Within seconds, a little steam begins to rise and he checks how hot, humming in the back of his throat when he approves.
Then he leads me in, body behind mine. I’m under the spray while he fingers the wet strands, pushing them back so the ends all meet at the center. His warmth rivals the water, his hands massaging my back and then spreading out.
“That feels good.”
“And you are my heaven. My calm.” Callum reaches for my bottle of shampoo and adds a generous amount to his palm. He rubs them together, creates a little lather, and then runs those talented fingers across my hair and scalp. From the very top to the last strand, he washes it slowly and with firm strokes that feel so good.
I’m lax. Had I not been leaning against him, I’m sure my body would be slumped against a wall. As it is, my legs feel weak and when he gives a gentle push so I’m standing directly under the rain shower attachment, I pull him with me. Reaching back, I grip his hip and keep him close, give a subtle gyration against the hardness digging into my lower back.
“Behave, love. Let me take care of you.” A recurring theme. Each time it’s about me, but I want to touch him too. To make him feel what I do, but when I try, I’m rebuffed by strong hands and my peach shower gel that he uses to rub my chest. From shoulders to breasts and back again, he massages my skin with firm strokes and then quick smacks to the tip of each tit. My nipples are hard, and each slap borders on pleasurable pain. “And trust me, Aliana, I’m doing this for selfish reasons. All I want is to touch you. To feel you bend under my fingertips.”
“Feel the same,” I whimper, the keening sound a mixture of frustration and bliss.
Hands wandering lower, he washes my midsection. Pays extra attention to my tattoo and piercing, fingering the new belly-button ring I bought with a jewel in the same tone as his eyes. If he’s put it together, he doesn’t say, but when Callum gives the metal a small tug, I push back harder. Grind myself against his cock; a torture, since I want to feel him stretch me.
To make me his.
“Do you dream of me every night?” One of his large hands cups my core, and I stop all movement. Whine in his hold. “Do you make this pretty little cunt come with my name on your sweet lips?”
“Yes.” Another truth I can’t deny. These last few days, no matter how tired I am, he’s the last thing I see when I close my eyes, and not coming is an impossibility. “I touch myself to thoughts of you. To the memory of your mouth between my thighs.”
“Motherfuck, love.” A single digit parts my labia, the proof of my desire coating its tip. It’s not the water, but him. All because of him. The eyes, tattoos, and raw hunger that possesses me even when he’s not here. I’m powerless. “Such a good girl. All soaked for me. Ready for me.”
The heel of his palm massages my clit, touch firm, and I moan. Loud and drawn out, the quickness in which he slips two fingers inside and pumps them savagely leaving me teetering on the edge before I can regain rational thought. I’m on the tips of my toes, hands on the wall now while he curves over my back, pumping two fingers deep and then pulling them out.
In and out. In and out.
Then they’re gone, and I’m left gasping—groaning as my walls clench in need of him.
“Turn around.”
“I can’t move.”
“You will.” There’s a sound that greets my ears above the water and my entire frame pauses. It’s skin on skin, repetitive, and my mouth waters. My core throbs. “Turn for me.”
“Please.”
Faster. He’s groaning low. “Now,” Callum grits out and I force myself to function. Will myself to confirm my suspicions and seeing this specimen of a man pumping his cock into a tight fist is enough to break me. My knees buckle. I kneel before him and take the head between my lips and moan. He’s warm and hard and the heady fuck that escapes in that deep voice is sinful. Worth the discomfort of the tiles digging into my knees.
I move his hand aside and take in another inch. Then another, bobbing my head along his thick length before pulling back with a string of spit connecting us. “Are you going to behave now and let me touch you? Let me feel your weight on my tongue?”
“You have sixty seconds.”
