by Hannah Ford
God, he was sexy.
I never could have imagined my attraction to someone could be so strong, so intense, so all-consuming. It was thrilling and terrifying at the same time.
Callum pulled the car to a stop around the corner from my work, sliding up to the curb and pushing the gearshift into park.
“That’s fine,” he said. “I’m not sure if I’ll be going to the dinner anyway.”
“What?”
“I’m not sure if I’ll be able to make it. I have a busy day.” His hands tightened around the steering wheel. “It would drive me crazy to be there without you. I don’t like not being able to show everyone you’re mine.”
“Oh, now you want to show everyone I’m yours?” I laughed. “That’s funny, considering how you won’t be my boyfriend.”
“Adriana…” he said, his voice stern. “We’ve gone over this. I’m not good at the boyfriend thing.”
“How do you know if you’ve never tried?”
“Because I know myself.”
His words annoyed me. He knew himself? That was such a cop out, just an excuse not to engage on the level that I wanted. It was bull crap, just like how he made me sign a contract promising I wouldn’t ask him any personal questions.
I turned and looked out the window, waiting for the anger to flow from my veins.
Callum reached for my hand. “Hey,” he said, his fingers curling around mine. “Look at me.”
I turned.
“I’m here right now, aren’t I?” he asked.
“Yes,” I admitted reluctantly.
“So doesn’t that count for something?”
“It does. But you bought me an apartment, Callum, you told me…” I trailed off. I was about to say ‘you told me you love me.’
“I told you what?” he prompted.
“You told me you love me.” I looked away, back out the window, not wanting to look at his face, not able to handle it if he was going to take it back. But he took my chin in his hand and turned me back toward him.
“I do love you, Adriana,” he said, his voice gruff with emotion, emotion that was also reflected in his eyes. “I’m in love with you.”
But then he started to move away from me, started to settle back into the drivers seat, and the way the rest of the conversation would go flashed through my mind, playing out like a movie that was fast forwarded to take place in the span of one second. He would tell me he couldn’t, he would tell me that wasn’t how he did things.
Then he would say it was what I agreed to, that those were the terms I was presented with when I decided to be with him.
Screw that.
“No,” I said, grabbing his arm and stopping him. He was much stronger than me – if he’d wanted to, he could have pulled away. But he stopped. He turned to look at me, and I saw the vulnerability flash on his face once more, the same vulnerability I’d seen there last night. “Don’t shut me out.”
He didn’t say anything, but he stayed still, his eyes on mine.
“You can’t do this, Callum,” I said. “There’s a line. I agreed to this, yes, but…I have the right to know some things.”
He sighed. “What do you want to know?”
“How much did you drink last night?”
He sighed. “A couple of beers.”
I nodded. “Because of Rose?”
“Because of everything.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’m dealing with a lot right now.”
“Like what?”
He shrugged. “Work. Life. Rose. I told you, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“Obviously you can’t handle it, if you drank last night.”
“Adriana,” he said, and he reached for me, putting his hand on the back of my neck and pulling me close to him. “You don’t need to worry about this, baby. I’m fine.” He kissed my lips softly, his hands on my face, his thumbs brushing my cheekbones and leaving me dizzy. “Everything will be better after this morning.”
“What’s this morning?”
“Rose’s funeral.”
I inhaled sharply. “The funeral is this morning?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it’s not something I want to talk about.”
I turned and looked out the window, trying to process this new information. A woman was walking by, her hand slipped through a man’s hand. They looked carefree, happy, and I hated them. Hot tears filled my eyes.
Callum took my hand. “Look at me.”
My body responded immediately to his voice, to his words, like I was being commanded to do what he wanted. Once again, I turned to look at him.
“Shit, Adriana,” he said when he that I was crying. He pulled me to him and kissed my face, and I reached up and ran my fingers over his shoulders. “Please, baby, don’t cry.” His lips moved over my skin and I felt my body responding to his, felt myself wanting to feel him inside of me, wanting him to dominate me and possess me.
I couldn’t control myself. He was in control of me, of my heart, my mind, my body, my words. He’d trained me to submit to him and I had to rail against that instinct as the rush of desire flooded my veins.
“Please, baby,” he whispered. “Please, don’t cry. Fuck, it’s killing me to see you upset.” He pulled back and I could see the pain reflected in his eyes. He kissed me again. “All I want is to be with you, to make you happy. I don’t want to cause you pain, Adriana, I want you to be happy.”
I believed him.
But I needed more.
“I want to go to your apartment,” I said.
“You live in my apartment,” he said cockily. “I bought it for you.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I want to go to your apartment. Your real apartment, where you live, the one you refuse to take me to.”
I braced myself for the excuses, the protests, the platitudes about how he’d never brought a woman there, but there was none of that.
Instead, he nodded seriously.
“Tonight,” he said. “After the Celebration of Writing dinner. I will bring you to my apartment.” He pulled me close and kissed me again, this time over the hollow of my throat, right on my pulse point. “Then I will strip you naked.” His breath tickled my skin as he moved down to my collarbone. “I will tie you up.” His lips skated further down, over my cleavage. “I will handcuff you. I will use my strap on you. And I will make you come. And come. And come. And then I will take you away for the weekend, to anywhere you want to go.”
His hands were roaming my body as he spoke, his words sending shivers down my spine.
He ran his fingers down over my shoulders, down my arms to my fingertips, He pushed me gently onto my back and pushed my arms up over my head, holding my wrists together with one hand.
“Have you ever been fucked in a car, Lemon?”
“What?” Panic pounded through my body.
He didn’t respond, and a second later, I heard the click of the glove compartment and then he was holding a pair of handcuffs.
I tried to pull my hands down, but he held them tight over my head. “Shh, baby,” he said, kissing me gently. He tasted like lemon and mint, his lips full and soft on mine. “It will be easier if you don’t fight.”
The click of the handcuffs echoed through the car as he cuffed me to the metal pole of the headrests.
“Callum,” I protested. My eyes flicked nervously to the passerbys out on the street, walking by, just feet from the window. The windows were tinted, giving us privacy. But what if they could see in a little bit?
I wriggled on the seat, instinctually pulling on the cuffs, but I already knew I was locked in tight.
Callum began unbuttoning my shirt from the passenger seat with one hand, his fingers handling the buttons with deft precision, reminding me again just how good he was at this.
How many women had he been with in this car?
He flicked my shirt open.
“Nice
,” he murmured approvingly at my red lace push-up bra. His hands reached for the lacy cups and tugged them down until my nipples were exposed to him. He lowered his head and swirled his tongue around the raised peaks, and I gasped and arched my back, trying for more, harder, faster.
But he pulled back and pushed my skirt up.
His fingers slid over my panties, right over my slit. “You’re wet already, Lemon,” he said. “Even though you just came.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You want me to make you come again, don’t you, Lemon?”
“Yes.”
He grabbed my panties and slid them down over my hips and off my legs before balling them up and putting them in his pocket.
“Sir?” I said.
“Yes, Adriana?”
“Are you… ” I licked my lip nervously. “Am I going to get those back?”
“No,” he said simply. His hand reached out and slid over the curve of my left breast, his fingertip softly tracing the outline of my areola. “Every time you move, every time you remember realize you’re wearing any panties, you will remember that you’re mine.”
“Yes, sir,” I moaned.
He pushed my skirt up further, until it was bunched up around my hips.
Then he reached over and cracked the window.
I put my hand on his to stop him, but he just grinned. “You better be quiet, Lemon. If you make too much noise, someone might hear you.”
I bit the inside of my cheek as he got on top of me and began to kiss me, his hands in my hair, his kiss deep and slow.
He kissed me and kissed me until I was breathless, until I felt like I was going to jump out of my skin if I didn’t touch him. I was squirming under him, wanting him to fuck me so badly I couldn’t take it.
“I want to touch you,” I whispered. I felt him stiffen on top of me, and then he pulled back and smoothed my hair back from my face.
“Please,” I said again. I tugged on my handcuffs. “I want to feel your body, I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.”
“Adriana,” he breathed. “God, Adriana.” Then his mouth was back on mine, kissing me again deeply, not breaking the kiss as his hands traversed the curves of my body, his hands on my breasts, my stomach, my legs, my hips.
I arched my back and pushed into the kiss, until Callum pulled back, his hands massaging the back of my neck.
Then he reached up and undid the handcuffs.
He rubbed my wrists and kissed them. I reached up and began to unbutton his shirt, letting my hands roam over his skin, enjoying the feel of every muscle, every tendon, along with the strength and weight of him.
I ran my hand over the six-pack of his abs and moaned.
He grinned, like he knew how hot he was, and then I was reaching for his belt, unbuckling his pants and pulling out his cock.
“I’m going to fuck you now, Adriana.” He took his dick and rubbed it on the outside of my slit. “I’m going to fuck you hard until you come.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I wasn’t even thinking about the fact that we were in a car, wasn’t thinking about the fact that we were on the middle of a busy New York street. Everything had faded away, and it was just me and him, our bodies, our souls.
“I love you,” he whispered and then he was sliding inside of me and his mouth was back on mine and I gasped as he filled me.
We moaned against each other’s mouths as he pressed into me. His hand was holding the back of my neck and pulling me into the kiss as he moved slowly inside of me, his rock hard cock brushing against my clit with each slow stroke.
He broke away from the kiss and stared into my eyes.
“You are mine,” he whispered gruffly. “Forever and ever.”
I nodded, emotion welling inside of me.
“Say it.”
“I’m yours.”
His hand skated over my hip, sliding under my knee as he pulled my leg up slowly, hooking it over his waist so he could get deeper inside of me. “For how long, baby?”
“Forever.”
He groaned and pushed into me harder and he was kissing me again and it was just the two of us, becoming one and we came at the same time as he whispered into my ear how much he loved me, how much he would always love me, how we would always be together.
He collapsed on top of me, and I wasn’t naïve enough to think this was how it was always going to be, but I closed my eyes for just a moment and let myself believe it.
* * *
A few minutes later, I was inside the Archway Publishing building, doing my best to act like I hadn’t just been fucked senseless in a car.
My first stop was the bathroom on my floor, in order to make sure I didn’t look like a complete mess. Surprisingly, the mirror over the sink showed I actually didn’t look that bad.
My hair was disheveled and my lips were slightly swollen from all the kissing, but a quick swipe of my hairbrush and a smooth of my clothes made me look almost completely normal.
Callum had told me he was headed to work, that he would call me later.
I should have felt happy, should have felt over-the-moon. He was taking me to his apartment tonight, and then away for the weekend, to anywhere in the entire world that I wanted to go.
My heart thrummed at the thought. And yet I couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit of apprehension.
It was always one step forward, two steps back with us. So now that we’d had a step forward, it was like I was stuck, just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
The bathroom door opened and Bailey came walking in.
“Hey, girl,” she said, joining me by the mirror. She was wearing a tight red cowl neck short-sleeved sweater dress, her hair in loose curls around her shoulders. I’d always heard that redheads weren’t supposed to wear red, but she looked phenomenal.
“Hey.” I felt myself flush as I readjusted my clothes, suddenly paranoid that she would know what I’d just done outside in Callum’s car, even though there was no way that was possible. It didn’t help that she looked so put together, everything about her meticulously groomed, from her perfectly shaped eyebrows to her gleaming white teeth.
I wondered again how the hell I’d gotten this job, and then I remembered it was because of Callum.
I blushed.
“What’s with you?” Bailey asked, her eyes meeting my reflection in the mirror.
“Nothing.” I shrugged.
“You’re being weird.”
“You don’t know me well enough to tell if I’m being weird,” I pointed out.
“Touché.” She turned around and leaned against the counter. “So okay, I have more gossip.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. About Dean and Kiersten.”
“I don’t think we should be talking about Dean and Kiersten,” I said quickly. The last thing I wanted was to hear anything about those two. Not after what had happened with Mr. Kelly in his office yesterday.
Bailey rolled her eyes. “Okay, Miss Goody Two Shoes,” she said. “You don’t want to talk about Dean and Kiersten, let’s talk about you and Callum Wilder.”
Blood rushed through my ears. “What?”
“Oh, don’t play coy,” she said. “I saw you get out of his car on my way into work. The Aston Martin, right? Everyone knows that’s his car, he’s, like, famous for it.”
Crap, crap, crap.
My phone started ringing then, saving me from a response. The caller ID was flashing a number I didn’t recognize, but I carefully arranged my features into a look of measured concern, as if I was getting an important call.
“I have to take this,” I said quickly. “I’m sorry.”
I pushed by Bailey out the door and into the hallway.
“Hello?” I said.
“Hi, Adriana?” a woman’s voice asked on the other end of the line.
“Yes, this is Adriana.”
“Hey, Adriana, this is Rachel, Nessa’s sister.”
“Oh,” I said, surprised. I knew Nessa had an older s
ister, but she’d never called me on the phone before. “Hi.”
“I’m sorry to call you so early.”
“No problem. Is everything okay?” I pressed the phone to my ear, wondering if this had something to do with Nessa’s mom and the tests she was having.
“Oh, yeah, everything’s fine,” she said. “Sorry to make you worry. It’s just that Nessa’s birthday is coming up, and I was hoping to put together a dinner for her next week. What do you think about Friday night? Do you have any plans?”
“Umm…” I still hadn’t heard from Nessa, which meant she was probably still upset about our fight. Not that you could really call it a fight. It was more like… a little argument. Still. I didn’t want to be in a fight with Nessa. She’d been nothing but nice to me ever since I’d been in the city, letting me move into her apartment, being generous with her space and her belongings. We would work it out. We had to. And certainly by next week. “Friday night sounds great.”
“Great!” Rachel said. “I’ll be sending out an evite with all the details. What’s your email?”
I rattled off my gmail address.
“Great,” Rachel said, sounding pleased. “I’ll send it out today.”
“Sounds good,” I said. “And I’m really glad your mom is okay.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line, and I was afraid for a moment that I’d said something wrong, that I’d opened up a wound that Rachel didn’t want to talk about.
“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean to bring it up, it’s really none of my business.”
“No, no,” Rachel said. “I just… I’m confused. What do you mean about my mom?”
“About her health,” I said. “The tests she was having? Nessa told me about them.”
“I’m sorry, Adriana,” Rachel said. “But I think you’re confused. My mom is totally fine, she hasn’t had any tests.”
“But …” I frowned. Was it possible that Rachel was trying to cover up for her mom, or that she was in some kind of denial? She didn’t sound like she was lying or trying to cover anything up, though. She sounded legitimately confused. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I must have misunderstood.”