Mr. North

by Callie Hart

  Just because I haven’t had a boyfriend for years, doesn’t mean I’ve had no sex drive. I’ve watched porn from time to time. I’ve always turned the sound down, though, unable to get past the cheesy lines that come out of the actors’ mouths. The things they would say to one another in the heat of fucking like animals would always throw me. I’d find myself cringing instead of turned on. When Raphael says this to me now, though, a wave of adrenaline and excitement crashes into me. I obey him without question. Raphael must already have removed his pants. He cups the back of my neck with his hand, holding me in place, and then the tip of his cock is rubbing against my lips, hard and warm. I can taste him. When I’ve given people head before, the taste of semen has been something I’ve avoided at all costs. Salty. Musky. Enough to almost put me off going down on a guy altogether. Raphael’s cum doesn’t taste of anything, though. He smells clean, like soap and laundry detergent. As I take him into my mouth, I can feel how insanely wet I am between my legs. I’m growing more and more turned on by the second.

  Raphael is true to his word. He slowly pushes himself into my mouth, still holding my head in place, and he doesn’t stop until I whimper. He’s not all the way inside—he’s way too big for me to be able to take the whole thing—but the head of his erection is at the back of my throat. I close my lips around him and suck gently, and Raphael groans, a deep, low, need-filled sound that makes my head swim. His hands tangle in my hair as he slides himself back, withdrawing, giving me a second to breathe. “Your lips look amazing wrapped around my dick, Beth,” he hisses. “Use your tongue. Massage me. Make me wet with your mouth.”

  These commands are non-negotiable. I do as he tells me to, working my tongue over him, swirling it around his hard flesh, teasing and flicking the tip of his cock inside my mouth. Raphael makes a satisfied, urgent sound as I swallow, sucking harder. “Yes, little butterfly. Just like that. You’re amazing. So fucking beautiful,” he whispers. “You suck me so perfectly.” He thrusts himself back into my mouth, and I draw a deep breath in through my nose. I use my tongue to lick and lave at him, to further tease him, and Raphael groans again. The sound of his pleasure is like pouring gasoline on an open flame. I work him into a frenzy, until I can feel him growing harder and harder in my mouth. If I keep going right now, he’s going to come. I know it, and so does Raphael. He pulls out of my mouth, a frustrated growl rumbling deep in his ribcage.

  “Bad girl,” he says, roughly rubbing the pad of his thumb against my lips. “I’m in control of when you come. You can’t make me come before I allow you, either.”’

  With a flurry of motion, I suddenly feel the heat and pressure of his tongue on me…between my legs. I gulp down air like I’m in a vacuum, fighting for each breath. If I weren’t blindfolded right now, my vision would be pitching sideways. Bright lights flash and dance in the darkness as Raphael flicks his tongue over my clit, savagely licking and sucking at me, the same way I was just licking and sucking at him. My pussy is so wet now. The chair Raphael had designed for me leaves no room for me to squirm away from him. I am locked in place, unable to really move, exposed and very vulnerable. Raphael claims my pussy with his mouth, and I can do nothing but shamelessly rock my hips, grinding myself against his face. He uses the flat of his tongue to sweep upwards in purposeful, determined strokes, and flares of pins and needles explode all over the surface of my skin. I am weak and boneless, like my body can no longer support its own weight. I writhe, my chest rising and falling rapidly, my nerve endings on fire.

  “Please, Raph. Please. I can’t…fucking…take it anymore.”

  He pauses, tutting disapprovingly. “We’re only just getting started. There’s so much more to be done here.”

  “ Please, Raphael. I…I need you.”

  Wicked laughter fills my ears. “I’m sorry. You haven’t been good enough to warrant coming just yet. But you will be, trust me. I’m going to give you every opportunity to earn your orgasm.”

  I become something wild and crazed. He is a maestro with his tongue, conducting the symphony of my body, guiding it to dizzying heights and crashing, ceaseless crescendos. I gasp, I pant, and I moan, and the whole time Raphael is working his magic between my legs, I’m teetering on the brink of something consuming and powerful. I’m reaching the point of no return when Raphael draws back, saying, “You think holding your breath will disguise what’s about to happen? You think I can’t read your body like a book, Beth? You think I don’t know when you’re about to come? You’re mistaken. Your body’s fucking screaming it from the rooftops.” I’m shaking, my heart skipping all over the place. It’s no wonder he can tell. “I’m going to torture you just a little bit more now,” he says, stroking a finger down my cheek. He hums, as if he’s very pleased at what he sees. “I want you to watch me, Beth. I’m going to remove your blindfold, and I want you to watch me while I make myself rock solid for you. Are you ready?”

  I’m more than ready. The idea of him palming his own dick while I watch is crazy hot. I can’t tell him how badly the idea turns me on, though. I can’t get a single word out. I nod instead, and Raphael works quickly, removing my blindfold.

  He stands before me, a wall of stacked muscle, beautiful and terrible all at once. His dark hair is slick with sweat, falling into his face, his high cheekbones flushed with color, his full lips parted as his chest rises and falls. His torso looks like it’s hewn out of pure, perfect marble. A deep vee has been carved out of that marble, just below his stomach, dipping down into his groin, guiding my gaze down to his hard cock. He’s huge. Seriously fucking huge. He’s also fucking perfect . Circumcised, the head of his cock is proudly on display, slick with pre-cum as he takes his erection in his hand and slowly works his fist up and down it.

  “Like what you see?” he asks, his voice laden with so many promises.

  “Yes,” I pant. “I do.”

  “You want me inside you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You want you want me to fuck you hard?”

  “Yes.”

  He works his fist faster up and down the length of his cock, his eyes glazing over with lust. “You want me to make you fucking scream?”

  “Fuck . Yes!”

  “Do you want to me tease your clit with my fingers while I pound you with my dick?”

  “Yes .”

  “Do you want me to bite your nipples?”

  “Yes .”

  Faster. Faster. He speeds up, his hand pumping up and down. His mouth opens, the muscles in his shoulders and his neck straining. “Do you want to taste my cum on your tongue, Beth?”

  “Shit. Shit, please. Yes. I need you so badly,” I gasp. I need to touch myself, to feel my clit, slick and swollen beneath my fingers as I rub it in small circles. I can’t though. My hands are still restrained, so there’s nothing I can do but ride the exquisitely torturous waves of need and pleasure that lap at my body.

  “Do you want to see my favorite thing about this chair?” Raphael asks.

  “Your favorite thing?” A jolt of nerves fires through me. I was intimidated enough by the mere sight of the chair. Getting into it was taxing enough. But now it does something more than restrain and bare every part of me? Raphael smirks as he steps toward me. He reaches out and places a hand on the small arm rest to my right, searching underneath it, then clicking something to the side. Suddenly, I’m falling forward, the whole chair pivoting on an axis beneath me. I drop forward a clear foot, and I can’t help but let out a cry of surprise. Before I can topple forward and go crashing to the floor, however, a mechanism below the chair catches me, jerking me to a halt. My back is now at a ninety degree angle, my face in line with the floor, my ass and my pussy up in the air, almost as if I’m on my hands and knees.

  Raphael growls, low in the back of his throat, the sound filled with brutal excitement. “There we are,” he snarls. “Now I can fuck you properly.”

  If I were going to be afraid at any point in these proceedings, now would be the time. I’m prone, restrain
ed, and in a very weak position. Raphael is the biggest, strongest guy I’ve ever encountered, and he sounds like he’s been swept away in the moment, lost on a sea of desire and the urgent need to claim and fuck. I am not afraid, though. I know, with just one word from me, a switch will flip in his head, and all of this will stop. He swore he’ll never hurt me, and I know he was telling the truth. Raph slowly walks around me, pacing slowly, completely naked, and every single hair on my damn body stands to attention.

  “What are you going to do?” I ask.

  I can’t see him anymore. I can only see the polished floor three feet away from my face, and the glare from the light overhead reflected in it. Raphael makes a tutting sound from behind me. “I’m going to fuck you, of course,” he muses. “I’m going to slam myself into you from behind until I’m finished with you. I’m going to touch you wherever I like. I’m going to use you however I like. And then I’m going to decide if you deserve to come or not, Beth.”

  It feels difficult to breathe like this, hovering over the floor, but I don’t complain. I just wait. His fingers touch me first, and not near my clit or my pussy, but near my ass. He moans a little as he traces the tips of his fingers between my ass cheeks, slowly lowering them down, until he reaches my asshole. I’ve never allowed anyone to touch me there before. I’m fairly sure no one has even looked at me there before, so the knowledge that Raphael North is staring at me, enjoying the fact that he can stroke and tease at me, rubbing the wetness from my pussy upward so that it’s entirely covering me, is a little daunting. I’m not expecting how good it feels. I grit my teeth, expecting pain and discomfort, but Raph doesn’t push his fingers inside me right away. He strokes and he plays, until I find myself out of breath and turned on, moving against his hand.

  “You’re a naughty girl, Beth. You want my fingers in your ass, don’t you?”

  I can’t answer this. It feels wrong, dirty, to tell him that I do. I screw my eyes shut, opening my mouth as he pushes down, applying an intense pressure against me. A blisteringly hot wall of heat spreads over me, and Raphael groans.

  “You have no fucking idea how beautiful you are to me right now. Your ass is like a peach. I’m going to devour it. I’m going to make it mine,” he informs me. I shiver again, and Raphael takes his cock and begins to rub it against my pussy. He focuses on my clit, working the head of his dick back and forth over the small, tight bundle of nerves until I’m trembling. When he pushes himself into my pussy, it’s as if I’ve been shot through with electricity. The sensation, being stretched, being so full of him, is so intense that my vision actually flashes, my eyes blurring for a second.

  “Fuck, Beth. Your pussy feels amazing.” If I’m not mistaken, Raphael sounds like he’s struggling to rein in his own pleasure, just as I’m fighting to rein in mine. He slowly slides into of me, and there’s a second where I can’t remember how to force oxygen into my lungs. He feels…he feels incredible .

  I moan, and it’s as if something snaps inside Raphael. “Fuck!” he hisses. “Shit, Beth. Soak me. Make my dick wet.” He slams himself home, his hands on my hips, fingers digging into my skin, and I scream, my cry ripping free from my vocal chords, making my throat raw. Raphael doesn’t go slowly. He doesn’t stop. He thrusts himself into me again, and then again, and again, grunting with the effort of fucking me so hard. “You’re so…fucking…tight ,” he rasps. He applies a little more pressure, and his finger dips inside my ass, causing me to buck against him.

  “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you,” he says. “I’m going to make you feel good, I promise.”

  Raphael North does not lie.

  He fucks me brutally, and I lose track of all time and self. He’s inside me; his fingers are inside me; his mouth is on my back; he’s reaching around and kneading my breasts while he rocks his hips against mine.

  I love every second of it.

  I can feel him getting harder and harder with every thrust. It’s unbelievable. With every upward thrust of his hips, his body rubs against my clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure racing around my body, and I begin to beg. “Please, Raph. Please. Please. Please. Please let me come. I need you so fucking bad.”

  “How badly do you want to fall apart right now?” he asks.

  “So bad. So fucking bad. Please !”

  “Okay, I suppose you have earned it.” I’d never have thought he was holding back, but Raphael ramps up his movements a hundred fold, making my pulse race away. I can’t take this anymore. I can’t fucking do it. I bounce and I rock against him as hard as I can, and Raphael fucks me even harder. The moment rises up at me, smashing into me, making me scream loud and hard. Raphael slides his fingers deeper into my ass just as I come, and he makes a strangled, guttural, frustrated sound.

  “I’m going to come, Beth. I’m gonna fucking come, too.”

  He releases inside me, his hips smashing into me from behind as he roars, his entire being one huge, tense mass of muscle. I scream his name, and both of us grind against one another, riding out the final ebb and flow of our climaxes.

  No one has ever been able to make me come like this before. No one has ever made me come alive like this. I’m still recovering from the overwhelming pleasure when Raphael pulls out of me and walks around the chair with his dick in his hand. “That felt good, little butterfly, didn’t it?” he pants.

  “Yes. My god…yes.” He must know it did; he heard me pleading with him to fuck me. He makes a pleased sound, then takes hold of a handful of my hair and forces my head back. The expression on his face is fierce. “I swear to you, Beth. My work. My money. My life here in New York. None of it means anything to me. From here on out, my only priority is making you feel good. The world can burn, and everyone in it can perish. So long as you’re by my side, Elizabeth Dreymon, I’m going to make sure you feel good every damn day for the rest of your life. You can count on that.”

  —THE END—

  *

  Do you want more of Beth and Raph’s story? Sign up here to get a bonus scene and be added to HEA Press’s and Callie Hart’s email lists.

  Calico

  D id you enjoy Mr. North ? Check out the first chapter of Calico . It is available on Amazon and free in Kindle Unlimited.

  *

  CHAPTER ONE

  CALLAN

  Callan Cross is a Cunt

  NOW

  A ttending a funeral purely so you can piss on a headstone is pretty fucked up. There are plenty other things about me that are very fucked up, but today my urge to urinate on a dead man’s freshly turned grave is hitting the top of the list. I’ve only ever been to one funeral. That’s not to say that as a twenty-nine year old man, I’ve been lucky enough to avoid loss. Not to say that acquaintances, friends and even work colleagues haven’t died before. That first funeral was just such a doozy that I vowed I would never attend another of the maudlin, bullshit events. I use my work as an excuse. National Geographic have called me away to Nepal to take photos of snow leopards. I’ve been doing fashion shit (which I hate doing) in Paris. I’ve landed myself a huge commercial gig out in the middle of bum fuck nowhere, Idaho, taking structural shots for an architect/lawyer/pharmaceutical firm. My excuses are all interchangeable; I just will not go. I’d rather choke on my own puke. This time, though…this time, I’m making an exception.

  “You’re going back to South Carolina? I thought you hated it there?” Rae, the girl I’ve been fucking for the past three months, rolls onto her stomach and sparks up the joint she’s just constructed. She’s naked, and the low light from the lamp on the bedside table beside her casts shadows in the subtle slopes of her body—the hollow between her shoulder blades, the dip at the base of her spine, the pronounced curve of her buttocks. I met Rae at one of those fucking terrible fashion shoots. It was for some couture bullshit magazine, and half her face was painted turquoise. She was wearing a scrap of silk that barely covered the very curves I’m studying right now. The hair stylist on site had created a fake bird’s nest
in her hair, complete with fake fucking goldfinch, the sight of which had made me seriously fucking uncomfortable. Birds in general have that affect on me.

  Rae had been sitting on a chair, leaning forward, and I’d directed her to open her legs a little further so the material of her dress hung down in between. Rae had done as I’d asked and more. She’d spread her legs as wide as she could, and then she’d purposefully shifted the material of her dress out of the way entirely.

  She wasn’t wearing any underwear. She also didn’t seem to care that there were two other people in the studio when she gently stroked her middle finger over her pussy, either. Models have no sense of body shame. They’re so used to being naked, primped and preened over, pulled this way and that. I’ve had enough experience working with them to know that they’re not going to be shy if you need to see them naked. Rae was going for shock value, though. She was trying to get my attention, and it worked. I didn’t let her know that, naturally. I continued taking pictures, trying not to smile, while the editor of the magazine turned purple and nearly passed out.

  Rae blows pot smoke down her nose, and then offers me the joint. I decline. “Such a fucking baby,” she says. “You should just do it. Give in. Let go. You’d be a hell of a lot less uptight. Who died, anyway?”

  Rae’s never liked that I don’t drink, smoke, or do drugs. I don’t gel very well with her lifestyle. She puts more coke up her nose than half of the Hollywood A-listers I work with. I slap her ass, growling under my breath when her flesh bounces. “A guy I used to live next door to. A guy I didn’t like very much.”

  Rae rolls her eyes. “Your ex-next door neighbor from a million years ago? You’re a perplexing man, Callan. I know fifteen sexual positions you could be bending me into this weekend, and you’d rather go eat cucumber sandwiches and drink stale coffee with a bunch of weird old people. I have to say, I think I’m offended.”

  “Be offended, sweetheart. I’m going. That’s all there is to it. I’ll be back on Tuesday. I can fuck you all you want then.” I kind of want her to leave, but I’m over the habit of kicking her out of my apartment right after we hook up. It makes her crazy, and while there are plenty of women I could be having sex with here in New York, Rae is simple. She doesn’t want a relationship. She’s not expecting me to propose at any point. She does fuck like a fiend, though, and she has the dirtiest mind on the face of the planet. I’ve grown accustomed to letting her sleep over, regardless of the fact that it pains me to share my personal space sometimes. I’m buck naked as I hop off the bed and begin gathering up the clothes and personal effects I’m taking with me back to Port Royal.