by Daya Daniels
She sucks in a harsh breath. “That isn’t truuue. I hate you for saying something like that about him.” Her blue eyes bulge out of her head and her top lip curls up. “You know nothing about Trav. How dare you!” She breathes harshly. “What do you know? You’ve never been married in your life. Every woman you’ve ever met has been some fleeting fuck.”
Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah.
“I love him, Austen.”
My face twists. “You don’t love him, Callie. You’re in fucking debt to him. You’re in obligation to him. You’re living out all the rules on that contract you made with him twenty years ago. That’s not love, Callie. That’s fucking slavery.”
“FUCKKKKK YOU, AUSTEN!” She puts all her might into that roar.
And it amuses me.
“You don’t know what a real relationship is.”
I laugh. “Oh, but I know what selfish is, Callie. And maybe you need to start being selfish, so you can stop walking around here like some goddamn martyr, putting everyone’s needs before your own—crying all the time about all the shit you can change.”
Her chest heaves for breath.
I lift an arm and point my finger at her. “Pretty soon you’re going to be nailed to a two-ton fucking cross, dragging it with you on your back everywhere you go around Mount Pleasant like Jesus fucking Christ,” I quip, giving her the side eye.
In a flash, she draws her left arm back. Then it rips through the quiet air. She almost slaps me again, but I catch her hand before it connects with my face. She shakes with anger and that’s what I need her to do right now. I need her to feel. I need her to want to be alive instead of being this shadow of a woman who lives in hiding and feels ashamed about wanting a normal life.
“I’m selfish. That’s right, Callie. I want all of you, not half of you. ALL.”
“Or nothing,” she says.
“Yeah, or nothing.”
She frowns and steps away from me, walking backward.
“What about me, Callie?” I dig a finger into the center of my chest a few times, following her across the room, my footsteps loud against the wooden floors. “Am I supposed to be happy with this arrangement? You come to me because you want to screw when it suits you then leave before the fucking hour of twelve o’clock like you’re a teenager on curfew.” I lower my voice. “Am I supposed to be happy with not being able to have a proper relationship with the woman I love? I’m supposed to accept half of you, Callie? You don’t think I’ll want the other half of you? But how can I have it, right? It belongs to someone else!”
“I’m married, Austen. I can’t be your girlfriend!”
“I don’t want you to be my girlfriend, Callie. I want a WIFE.”
The words that leave my mouth surprise the shit out of me. I can’t think straight. This woman has me feeling rage and frustration I haven’t felt in a long time and it unnerves me more than being with the general population in Huntsville Penitentiary. The feelings I have for her terrify me.
Her pouty lips instantly slam together. She’s speechless.
Thank fuck for that because it’s about time she shuts up and listens.
We stand facing each other, chests heaving, our exhales in sync and animalistic.
It’s a standoff.
Callie stares at me unblinking and still there’s that hope again that I always see in her eyes, even though it seems so far away right now.
Her heart is divided. It’s a fact she refuses to accept, but it’s clear as day to me now.
She sways a little as she steps away and nearly falls. I catch her just before she places a shaky hand on the surface of a small table by the front door to steady her weight.
I’d never let her fall.
I pull her against my chest. Her smaller frame melds into mine. She’s soft and warm, and I’ve missed her so much over these last few days of radio silence. Tiny whimpers leave her, but she doesn’t cry. Her stiff posture instantly relaxes, allowing me to wrap my arms around her and hold her tight until she stops shaking.
“I want more from you, Callie,” I murmur into her damp tresses. “I want more.”
“I’m too old for you, Austen.” She manages a weak laugh.
“No,” I whisper, dragging my nose along her jawline, inhaling her. “You’re perfect.”
Callie
TWISTING AROUND IN HIS arms, I stare up at Austen. He’s shirtless and the silvery moonlight that filters in from outside bounces off his muscular chest and the sharp lines of his features, making him look so beautiful, like a sculpture.
He pulls me against him and puts his lips to mine, nibbling on the top one then the bottom one teasingly, until I become so crazed I kiss him back, accepting how much I’ve missed him.
“I’ve missed you,” I say.
He smiles and kisses me again, edging closer, eclipsing me with his big body. This man towers over me by at least a foot and every time he shifts, all the muscles in his powerful shoulders bunch and flex. My eyes trace a path down his carved abs to the gorgeous V muscle that’s just above where his lounge pants hang off his hips. I press a palm to his stomach, dragging it against his warm skin.
He takes it in his, kisses it, then he’s back on me again, consuming me with his mouth, locking me in his powerful grip, claiming me as if I ever only belonged to him.
The sounds of tongues tangling fill my ears. Then the kiss ends with a wet pop. The corners of his mouth turn up into a wolfish grin.
The soft hairs of his beard tickle my skin. His large hand snakes up my back, pulling me closer to him against his hard chest.
I shiver from my wet T-shirt that sticks to my skin. Austen’s breathing grows heavy and his grip gets tighter as he drags his fingers through my hair before he presses his lips to mine, deepening the kiss, pushing his tongue into my mouth. It becomes punishing, desperate, the type of kiss a girl could only dream of from a man whose intention is to steal her very soul.
I pull away from him, breathing hard. He takes two steps, yanks me by the wrist, and spins me around. I back my ass up into his crotch, grinding myself into his cock that’s swollen and hard like a hot pipe.
Austen groans against my ear, the sound of his deep voice shooting straight to my clit. “You want it?”
I nod and do it again, feeling my pussy throb at his teasing words.
“You wanna fuck?” he asks in a harsh tone, sliding his hand down into my shorts, his thick fingers gliding along the lips of my pussy until his index finger lingers at the entrance, teasing it. “Wet, huh, just for me?” He buries his mouth in my hair that’s everywhere. “I bet this pussy’s been begging for my cock, hasn’t it?”
My exhale is loud. “Yesss.”
He moans into my neck, biting me a little. I wince at the pain and push my hips into him before I’m rocked forward when he pushes against my weight.
I writhe against his hand, allowing my swollen clit to drag over his fingers and soon I’m riding it, desperate for him to slip a thick finger inside of me.
He doesn’t.
He removes his hand completely.
“Austen,” I plead, lifting my arms and wrapping them around his neck, running my fingers through his hair, savoring the masculine scent of his skin that’s all over me.
I’m sweaty and my skin is hot everywhere, mixing with the salty scent of my skin from my drunken frolic in the ocean earlier.
He palms my breast through my shirt. Then I pull it off. A hiss slips from Austen’s lips as he rakes his fingers over my back, allowing his hand to settle at the waistband of my shorts from behind, running his thumb over the mole on my hip, admiring it.
He pants like a beast, yanking me into his hard dick again, allowing me to grind myself against him.
I reach behind me, desperate to feel his thickness beneath my fingertips.
He takes my hand in his, intertwining the fingers on our left hand for a moment, pressing his lips to my ear. “Look at me,” he hisses.
Shifting a little, I turn to face him w
here he lingers over my left shoulder.
His brown eyes burn into mine in the darkness and I’m sucked into his gaze. The longer I look at him, the more I’ll lose myself in his spell.
I’m splintering, cracking wide-open for this man and he’s made his home inside of my heart, even if only in half of it.
“You belong to me, Callie.” His fingers wrap in my hair, and in a flash, he backs away and yanks my shorts down to my hips harshly. “No panties,” he growls.
I bite my lip when his thick fingers dig into my ass cheek before his large palm connects with it, stinging my flesh.
He smacks me again. The third time is so hard that I wince, letting out a loud hiss, but I don’t tell him to stop. In fact, I enjoy it. The sting and the burn and with each whack, my pussy throbs waiting to be filled, begging for cock.
His large hand wraps around my right thigh. He eases closer to me, palming his hand across my back, forcing it to arch, easing my upper half down on the table.
I suck in a breath when my nipples touch the cool wood. I plant my hands in front of me and before I can ask, before I can beg, he’s inside of me in one hard thrust, letting out a groan so ferocious it scares me.
Right away, he settles into a rhythm, beating his hips into me, parting my flesh deliciously, pummeling into my pussy until I can’t take it anymore.
Everything on the table clatters to the floor. Some of it breaks.
I hold on to the edge of it and bite down on my lip when he eases his stroke. The wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of my slit fills the silence, driving me insane.
Austen moans. His hard chest presses against my back. Then he stops, leaving himself lodged deep inside of me. He takes my chin in his hand and forces me to look just over my shoulder at him.
I’m covered in sweat and the skin on my ass burns.
He gives me a soft look, his eyelids heavy and his expression contorted.
“I love you,” I say to him before I can even think about the words. “I love you.”
He kisses me fiercely and starts fucking me again, hard. My hands slide all over the table as he vaults my body forward with his weight. I grunt out ugly sounds as my knees buckle a few times, but he holds me steady. I don’t think he’d ever let me fall...
“Austen,” I rasp out, my pussy clenching and milking his dick as I orgasm, crying out his name.
His cock twitches deep inside of me. He almost comes to a stop then moves again, but I’m dizzy, still recovering from my orgasm. He eases just over my shoulder again, cupping my chin with his hand. He presses a kiss to my lips then slows his stroke until he’s barely moving. “I love you, Callie.”
Then he comes slow and hard. His eyelashes flutter and he lets out a deep groan that vibrates from his chest and shakes me to my core. I feel every single harsh jerk the monster makes as it spurts out hot streams of cum deep inside of me.
I’m exhausted, depleted.
Austen eases out of me.
I step out of my shorts, leaving them on the floor. He pulls up his lounge pants, tying the string at the waistband quickly.
Before I can protest and tell him that I should leave, which I really should, he picks me up as if I weigh nothing and heads across the room for the bedroom.
I wrap my legs around him before he kisses me again. And it’s powerful, consuming. It’s making me forget things.
I decide that even if it’s just for a little while, I could use a little forgetting.
~
“I’m sorry for what I said earlier,” Austen murmurs into my hair. “It was fucked up and cruel and just plain wrong.” He closes his eyes. “And selfish,” he whispers.
I’m curled up against him, just breathing while listening to the low hum of the central air-conditioning.
“It’s okay.” My head rests on his chest and my leg is thrown over his right thigh. The sheets are draped around us. I drifted off to sleep for a few minutes then woke. My eyes fluttered open to find him still awake and staring at me.
“No, no, no, Callie. It’s not okay.” He tilts his head back and looks up at the ceiling, then at me. “I just get upset sometimes, but I don’t mean to. I didn’t mean to say those things.”
But you meant them...
I exhale and trace a circle around his nipple, listening to his heartbeat that sounds like it beats in sync with mine.
“Why do you always have to go before twelve o’clock?” he asks.
I keep tracing my index finger over his pec. “So I can be on time to watch The Tonight Show.”
“Huh?”
I giggle. “It’s Trav’s favorite show. It comes on just after twelve. Sometimes he asks me to watch it with him. I mean, he hasn’t in a long time, but I like to make sure I’m home in case he wants me to.”
He smiles. “Where did you get my number?”
I let out a tiny laugh. “Why are you asking me this now?”
He lifts a shoulder. “I don’t know. I’ve just always wondered.”
I bite my lip. “I was at a bar. A real shitty hole-in-the-wall type of place. I’d stopped there to get a quick drink. I did. I went to the bathroom to clean up and while I was in the stall just sitting there thinking about how shitty my day had gone, I overheard two women talking about you and how you were so great in bed.”
He looks away from me.
“Anyways, one of the women, I guess tried to give her friend your number. She told her to take it. The friend said no way, that she’d never sleep with a prostitute. They went back and forth for a little while. The other woman said, ‘This is his number.’ The friend said she didn’t want it. Then the other woman told her that she wouldn’t regret you—that you were worth every penny. Then she talked about how big your cock was and how you fucked her allll night long and gave her multiple orgasms,” I say dramatically.
“Okay. Okay. Okay.” Austen waves his hand around, encouraging me to get to the point.
“The friend refused to take the number. And when I left the bathroom stall, a tiny piece of paper was sitting on the counter with a telephone number scribbled across it. So, I took it with me when I left.” I chuckle to myself. “It took me two weeks to get the courage up to dial that number and when I did, you picked up.”
“I’m sorry you had to hear all that,” he says.
“It’s okay,” I whisper.
“How many men have you been with, Callie?”
I hesitate to tell him, realizing how old-fashioned I’ll sound if I tell him the truth. Then I figure, what the heck. “A guy in high school a few times. Trav and then...you.”
“I see.”
I won’t ask him the same question. Austen’s likely lost count of the number of women he’s fucked, especially the ones for money.
He fiddles with my hair. “I think if I’d met a woman like you, Callie, a long time ago, I’d be a different man.”
I shift to face him and brush a lock of hair off his forehead. “What do you mean?”
He smiles. “I don’t know,” he says softly. “I just know I’d be different.” He runs his hand down my shoulder and frowns. “I hated my father. I can admit that now. I used to pretend I didn’t care, but I definitely did. If I had any feelings for him then, they were hate. And even now, they’re still hate. In fact, I hated everyone around me who had the family structure I didn’t. It was always just my mom and me. She struggled so much. I loved her, Callie, and when she died I felt like I had no one. I mean, I had Greg, but we’re not that close, as you can tell.” He laughs.
“You’re jealous of him.”
He narrows his eyes. “No.” On an exhale, he says, “Well, maybe I used to be but not anymore. Greg thinks he has a perfect life but...”
“Brandon told me you bought a house.” I smile at him.
He shifts in bed. “You won’t believe it.”
I move to a sitting position and cross my legs, eager to hear the story.
“He gave it to me.”
“Who?”
“Art
hur.” He laughs.
“He gave you a house?”
“Yeah.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “What? Why? What—”
“I don’t know,” he whispers. “But I’m grateful. I have money, Callie, believe me, but not the kind of money to buy that place.”
“And he just gave it to you?”
“Yeah. I’ve already signed all the paperwork.”
“Just like that.” I smile, feeling almost giddy. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” he says breathlessly.
“Wow, Austen. So, you’re moving then?”
“Yeah. I’m grateful Greg and Ivy let me stay on their property, but I’m not meant to be here, Callie. Ivy doesn’t want me here anyhow and neither does Greg. Besides, we made a lot of beautiful memories in Arthur Morris’ place. It’s sort of ours already.”
“Yeah, we did.” I meet his eyes and let my actions become dramatic, waving my arms around like I’m presenting him with an award. “Well, congratulations, Austen Lennox, on your new home.”
A tight-lipped smile stretches across his face. “Thank you.”
I press a kiss to his lips. “I’m happy for you. Everything’s falling into place, isn’t it? You’ve got your business up and running. I love how the new company truck looks, by the way.” I wiggle my brows a few times. “Now you have a place of your own. You’re spending more time with Brandon.” I run down the list, adding a few more things and including the highlight about the New York Mets winning last night’s game against the Houston Orioles. I leave out the part about Raine confronting me in the slick way she had earlier today, of course.
Austen laughs, showing me his gorgeous smile.
“Everything is perfect,” I tell him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
“Yeah, everything is perfect,” he whispers, giving me a melancholy look.
~
I’m not sure of the time, but I know it must be getting up to four o’clock in the morning. After lots of kissing and convincing, Austen finally let go of me and allowed me to take the walk home alone along the beach. I told him I just wanted some time to myself to think.