by Callie Hart
I have nowhere to go. I glance around the room, looking for an escape route past him, but the tank isn’t all that big and it’s cluttered with developing benches and digital print equipment. There was a time when I would have freaked out in this situation. If Ben had tried chasing me about, threatening me with a spanking, I would have blacked out. I probably would have stabbed him with a kitchen knife. Things are different with Callan, though. I trust him implicitly. He will never hurt me. He’ll never do anything to endanger me. He takes a step forward, holding up his hands. He looks like he’s surrendering, but I can see the wicked glint in his eyes and I know better.
“Might as well hand yourself over, bluebird. I’ll make it enjoyable, I swear.”
I know he’s telling the truth, it really will be enjoyable, but there’s something so thrilling about him coming for me like this. Giving up just wouldn’t be any fun. I dodge behind his workbench, trying to keep a straight face. “You’re gonna have to come and get me,” I say, shrugging.
“All right. You asked for it.” I expect him to come at me from the left, so I’m already skirting the opposite way, but he plants his hands on the bench between us and vaults over it, right in front of me. He grabs me, wrapping his arms around me, and I know it’s over. There’s nowhere for me to go now. I struggle for a second, unable to breathe, laughing too hard to make any sense as I beg him to let me go.
Callan bites my neck, a low growl rumbling in the base of his throat. “I’m not gonna be kind now, bluebird. The panties are coming off and I’m gonna slap that perfect little ass of yours until it’s pink.”
I scream, trying to wriggle free but the man has a vice-like grip on me. “Pleasepleaseplease! Let me go. I have work to do. I need to go grocery shopping. I haven’t shaved my legs.”
“What does any of that have to do with the hiding I’m about to give you?” He nips at my neck again, sending a jolt of electricity shooting down my arms and legs.
“Callan, don’t you dare!” I gasp. I still haven’t stopped laughing. Still can’t breathe properly. He’s smirking like the devil himself as he kisses me. I try to wrestle free again, but his mouth is hot and demanding and he’s impossible to resist. I fall slack in his arms, releasing myself to him, allowing him to take me. It’s not long before I’m lost in the kiss, lost in him as he loosens his grip on me and begins to stroke his hands up and down my body.
“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he whispers.
“I missed you, too.”
Callan makes short work of removing my clothes. After all the chasing and pretending, I’m all too eager to have his hands on my bare skin. He kicks the door closed and hits the red light. He strips out of his clothes quickly, and I watch, my heart thrumming frantically as he loses his shirt, and then his socks, jeans and his boxers. Our bodies are bathed in crimson, both of us a study in light and shadow. Callan sits himself down on the bar stool he keeps stowed under his bench and he pats his knee.
“Come on, then. Better get this over with.” He looks so sinister in this light, grinning at me like he wants to eat me up. My nipples are hard, aching, and I’m wet already, turned on by the mere thought of what is about to happen.
“You’d better be nice,” I tell him.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
I bend myself over his lap, feeling flushed and warm. I want him so fucking bad. My body is so attuned to him now, so used to fitting into place with him. I want him inside me. Need him inside me. I know I’ll have what I want soon enough. But first, Callan seems intent on having his way with me.
The first time his hand comes down on my behind, I yelp, not expecting the sharp pain. It hurts, but it also feels ridiculously good. Callan hisses. “Again?” he asks. He’s giving me the option of refusing, but he knows I won’t take it.
“Again.”
“Mmm. Good.” His hand comes down on me again, even harder this time. I have to bite my lip to prevent myself from crying out. Underneath me, Callan’s cock presses up against my breasts, growing harder and harder by the second. After my fourth strike, I can tell he’s losing will power. He wants to fuck me just as badly I need him to.
“You want me yet, bluebird?” he whispers, wrapping my hair around his clenched fist. He pulls, hard enough that my head is tugged back so I have to look at him.
“Yes. God, please, Callan.”
“You’re such a good girl to ask so politely.” He snakes an arm around my waist, lifting me off his lap. My feet don’t touch the floor. Sitting me down on his workbench, he spreads my legs and ducks down, gently licking at my pussy. He groans the first time his tongue touches me, applying a commanding pressure against my clit. “Fuck, you taste amazing, bluebird. I just want to eat you up.”
And he does. He licks and sucks and teases, making my body tremble and quake, making me fall apart. He knows when I’m about to come. As I start to tumble over the edge, he pushes his fingers inside me and it feels like there are fireworks going off inside my head.
“Fuck, Callan. Shit. Shit!”
“Come on, Coralie. Come for me. Let me taste it.” Callan pumps his fingers inside me, the fingers of his free hand digging into my thigh and my hip as he holds me down and pins me in place. I’m left panting, awestruck, undone. Callan kisses the insides of my thighs, whispering soft, pretty things to me as I float down from my high. I’m blissed out and numb when he pushes himself inside me.
“I’m going to make you come again, Coralie. Are you ready for it? Are you going to scream my fucking name?” He’s so big inside me, so fucking hard. I can’t speak, so I just nod, ready for him to do as he’s promised.
It doesn’t take long. I’m still so sensitive from his mouth. Having him inside me is intense—I’m shaking, shivering, barely able to control my own body as Callan fucks me. He doesn’t hold back. I lay back down on the bench and he palms my breasts, licking and biting my nipples as he rocks his hips, thrusting inside me, harder and harder each time. I can feel him getting close. I hook my legs around his waist, pinning him against me, grinding my hips against his, and the most delicious darts of pleasure ricochet through me as I start to come.
“Oh shit. Fuck, I’m gonna come, Callan. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”
He tenses. I can tell he wants to pull back, to ease off, to drag this out a little longer, but I can’t take it. I need to feel him coming inside me. I need to hear him lose his mind, the same way I’m about to lose mine.
“All right. You want it?” he growls. “I’ll give it to you.” He fucks me hard. He slams himself inside me over and over again, until I’m pulled under, drowning in waves of pleasure. Callan drowns with me, pants with me, cries out with me. I cling onto him as we both come, lost in the moment, covered in sweat. He is perfect.
I never thought I would get to have this. I never thought I would have this with anyone. The fact that I get to share it with him is amazing. There’s so much love between us. A deep well of pain exists here too, but neither of us draws from it anymore. It joins us together, brings us closer. We’re defined by our joy and our happiness instead of the darkness. As we catch our breath, fingers gently skating over each other’s naked skin, teasing and caressing each other, I know this is it for me. I will never love anyone more than this. I will never be as happy or as whole as this. Callan plants lazy kisses on my collarbone, his head resting on my chest.
“Are you ready for your ten month anniversary surprise?” he asks.
“Yes, please. That would be lovely.”
He pulls out of me, smiling as he kisses my left nipple and then my right. “Great. You stay right there. I’ll be with you in just a moment.”
He remains naked as he heads across to the other side of the tank and fetches a disposable camera from one of the shelves on the wall. He smirks as he holds it up for me to see. “Recognize this?”
“Of course.” It’s the camera he gave me outside the bar in Port Royal. Over the weeks that followed, I filled the camera with shots of the drive to Colo
rado, of birds, of couples in love. I filled it with pictures of him. “It’s time?” I ask.
He nods. I watch him take the camera apart and develop the film. It’s a long process, but I’m happy to observe him as he works. He’s beautiful. I’ll never get tired of watching him do this, especially when he’s naked and I get to stare at his bare ass. Eventually he starts hanging the photographs. Callan faces the first image in the opposite direction, away from me, and I start to get nervous. I have no idea what the picture is of, but it’s the one he took before he passed the camera along to me, that much is obvious. He stands there, smiling at me, studying me, not saying anything as the picture develops. When it’s done, he unclips it from the line and holds it to his chest.
“Come sit with me, bluebird.” He perches himself on the edge of his bar stool, still naked. I get up from the bench and make my way over to him, my heart skipping a little. I have no idea why I’m so nervous all of a sudden. Maybe it’s because Callan seems nervous, which isn’t normal for him. He’s always so self assured and confident. The hesitant look in his eye is making me feel uneasy.
I sit myself on his knee, looping my arms around his neck so he can hold me against him. “You know I love you more than anything on the face of this planet,” he whispers.
“I do.”
“And you know I’d do anything to keep you safe. To look after you and protect you?”
“I do”
“Good.” He takes a deep breath and turns the photograph over. The picture he hands to me is of a closed jewellery box. “I wanted to develop this at our one month anniversary, bluebird. I wanted to develop it every month after that, too. I finally couldn’t wait any longer.”
I stare down at the picture, wondering if it is what I think it is. I know all too well what it is, but my brain won’t seem to process the information. “Are you serious?” I whisper.
Callan nods slowly. “I lost you for twelve years, Coralie. I never want to be without you again. I want to be your husband. I want to care for you and raise a family with you. I want to give you the most perfect life.” Carefully he takes the photo out of my hands and lets it fall to the floor. He lifts me and carries me over to a set of drawers on the other side of the room, where he opens the top drawer and produces the exact same small velveteen box that he just showed me in the photograph. He looks worried for a second, like he’s anxious about handing it over.
“I love you, Coralie. What do you say? Will you marry me?”
He doesn’t even need to open that box. He could have asked without even having a ring and I would be telling him the same thing. I feel like I’m about to pass out. “Yes. Yes, of course I will, you silly boy.”
I’m suddenly fifteen years old. I’m sitting on the floor of a library somewhere very far away, and there’s a boy looking at me like I’m the most perplexing creature he’s ever witnessed. I’m losing my virginity to him. I’m telling him that I love him. I’m telling him that I’m pregnant. I’m telling him that I’m leaving him. He’s telling me that he won’t ever let me go again. He’s telling me that everything will always be perfect now. He’s showing me that it’s true. I’m imagining the prospect of things to come. The children we’ll have. The roads we are yet to journey down. The adventures we will get to share.
Tears well in my eyes as Callan Cross kisses me, and I feel dizzy, weightless, like I’m soaring. Like I’m a bird.
What a life.
CALLIE’S NEWSLETTER LOTTERY
As a token of her appreciation for reading and supporting her work, at the end of every month, Callie and her team will be hosting a HUGE giveaway with a mass of goodies up for grabs, including vouchers, e-readers, signed books, signed swag, author event tickets and exclusive paperback copies of stories no one else in the world will have access to!
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Callie Hart is the international bestselling author of the Blood & Roses Series. Badlands, a Christmas short story, combines characters from both the Blood & Roses series and the Dead Man’s Ink series.
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