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“That’s my Venus. Work me between those soft lips…” his exhale is rough, his touch a bit savage the next time I circle my hips “…I want to feel you come on me. I want to watch you lose control.”
“Oh God,” I whimper, picking up speed—rubbing my sensitive flesh over the hard flesh. It’s all I can do with the limited movement he allows, and I press harder. Hump a little faster, my movements jerky and uncoordinated, but the rush of pleasure right within my grasp is all I can focus on.
It’s right there.
He thrusts against me, and my eyes roll back.
Another pump and my fingernails dig into his shoulders, breaking the skin, and I use the anchor as leverage and bear down. I feel every ridge and vein, how he throbs and then his desperation to come undone.
“Motherfuck, baby girl. That’s it…fucking feel you.”
“Come with me.” Eyes on his, I bite down hard on his chin. Gem-like eyes blaze at the move, and his cock slides across my pussy angrily before the resounding smack over my left asscheek makes me freeze. Pain blooms over my flesh, sharp and wicked, but then I’m coming hard and nothing else matters but the euphoria burning through my veins.
I hear his grunt in the background, feel the second spank, but it only serves to prolong my pleasure.
I’m jittery and breathless and dirty. I’m tender and achy and watching him the same way he’s looking at me.
In awe.
In salvation.
In need.
His cock jerks between my thighs and his come coats my skin, running down my leg and then mixing with the water below us. It’s a glorious feeling. We are right together.
After a few minutes, I let my eyes close and rest my head in the crook of his neck. My body is lax, and the exhaustion of the last few days hits me hard.
Callum cleans us up as best he can because I refuse to let him go. Instead, he lifts me higher and wraps my legs around his waist, gaining the room needed to wash me gently. He doesn’t linger in the bathroom. My droopy body knows we are moving, and I feel the warmth of a towel across my back before he whispers, “Rest, I got you.”
And I do. I’m out before we make it to the bed.
21
“I need you to wake up, sweetheart,” I whisper in her ear, the clock on her bedside table reading six in the morning. I’ll be leaving soon. My flight’s scheduled for eight, but I want to spend a little more time with her.
Last night was amazing. Each time I’m near her brings me a sense of calm and happiness I’ve never experienced before. Yet, it also brings a level of guilt that eats at me like an infectious wound.
Leaving her doesn’t sit right with me. I don’t like the separation.
Aliana stirs but doesn’t open her eyes. If anything, she tries to burrow in deeper, and I chuckle. She’s bloody adorable—this beautiful little doll that I wish I could carry with me everywhere. I find myself being obsessive with her—wondering how she is and if she’s eating or sleeping enough, something the bags under her eyes last night showed me she wasn’t.
Giannis and Kray have explained that the Conte House has been busy, more so than normal, and long days have sometimes become longer nights. I’m also aware of the man that threatened to shoot the girls, and he’s currently on his way to my plane after being held a couple of weeks in isolation.
He’s been fed. He’s been given one bathroom break a day.
I’ve been the model host.
“Baby, I need you to open those warm eyes for me.”
“Don’t wanna.” She’s pouting against my skin, lifting the sheet higher to attempt to hide. One second, she’s half over me, leg across my hip, but on her next intake of breath, Aliana’s on her back. I’m hovering, my hips cradled between her thighs—her lack of startling is an indicator that she’s been playing possum the whole time, and I arch a brow. “Don’t give me that look. You’re warm and cozy.”
“Every time it gets harder to leave.”
“What time is your flight?” she asks, but her expressions are so unguarded. Open. I notice each: the sadness that flashes, and then the fake smile as if nothing bothers her. Her bravery and the hint of pain that’s always there, lingering, even when she’s laughing. I’m going to uncover your every secret, my Venus. I want to take the weight you carry and make it mine. “Do you need me to take you?”
“The only thing I want is to spend a few extra minutes with you.”
“Okay.” Aliana stretches, her naked flesh so bloody soft and sweet. She opens her arms, telling me without words to lower myself, and I do, covering her small form with my larger one. My lips are against her neck, taking her scent into my lungs and tattooing its genetic makeup on my DNA. “God, I need this too.”
