Because He Takes Me (Because He Owns Me, Book Two) (An Alpha Billionaire Romance)

by Ford, Hannah

  “Is he dangerous?”

  Callum shrugged, as if that was of no importance. “That remains to be seen.” He set the seasoned meat onto a platter, then walked out onto the lanai toward the grill.

  I followed him outside and sat on the chaise while he cooked our steaks. He didn’t say a word, and I couldn’t tell if he was mad at me for the whole Jason thing or just concentrating on his grilling. I didn’t want to push him, so I stayed silent as well.

  When the meat was done, Callum put together a simple salad of arugula, heirloom tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, and a balsamic reduction.

  He fixed two plates, then set them down on the long dining table that sat on the patio. He still hadn’t said a word.

  My heart thrummed in my chest, wondering if maybe I’d made a mistake staying here. How could I have sex with someone if he was going to be cold and distant? A night of hot, sexy, no-strings-attached consensual sex was one thing. It was quite another to be stuck for the evening with a man who was ignoring you.

  We sat down and he cut into his steak.

  “You’re not eating,” he growled.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “What?” He glanced up at me.

  “I’m not just going to sit here and eat when you haven’t said a word to me for the past ten minutes.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, and I knew what he was going to say. He was going to reference the contract, to say I had no right to put any expectations on him, that he’d been very clear what he was offering, that he wasn’t going to explain himself and blah blah blah.

  But I didn’t give a shit about the stupid contract. “Don’t even,” I said before he could speak. “There’s a difference between rules and being a total jackass.”

  His jaw had been set, but now the side of his mouth twitched, like he was trying to hold back a smile. “Touché, Ms. O’Connor.”

  “Am I?” I challenged.

  “Point taken,” he said. “Will you eat if I promise to modify my behavior?”

  “Yes.” I nodded and picked up my fork and knife, cut a piece of the steak and popped it into my mouth. “Oh my God,” I said, as the spicy flavor of the perfectly cooked meat exploded on my tongue.

  “Good?” he asked.

  “Delicious.”

  “I’m glad you like it.” There was a lilt to his voice, and a promise of something more, as if he was looking forward to pleasing me in other ways. I blushed again, and this time, I was pretty sure he noticed.

  “So,” he said, cutting another piece of steak. “Tell me about you.”

  “About me?” I asked, surprised.

  “Yes. How long have you lived in New York?”

  “A couple of days.”

  He glanced up in surprise. “A couple of days?”

  “Yes.”

  His eyed widened. “I figured you hadn’t been in the city long, but two days, Jesus, that’s…” he trailed off, and sort of shook his head, almost like he was trying not to think about it. Why did it matter to him if I’d only been in the city for a couple of days? Did it make him think I was too naïve to even bother with?

  “Why did you move to the city?” he asked.

  “I want to work in publishing.”

  “You do know publishing is a dying industry?”

  “I’m not talking about journalism,” I said. “I’m talking about book publishing.”

  “And I’m asking if you know it’s a dying industry.”

  “It’s not.”

  “With Amazon? And iBooks? The publishing industry works on unsustainable business models with antiquated accounting systems that are about to go the way of the dinosaur. And you want to get into it why?”

  “Because I love books.”

  “And you think love is enough to build a career?”

  “I think passion is.”

  “Are you a passionate person, Adrianna?”

  “Define passionate.”

  He picked up his water, took a long sip, then leaned back in his chair, like he wanted to make sure he answered my question correctly, even though it was a question that had no real right answer. “Someone who makes decisions based on their emotions rather than logic.”

  “I’m not sure,” I answered honestly.

  “You came to New York. And you’re here with me now. That would indicate a certain level of passion. And you signed that contract without even asking me for any changes. That defies logic.”

  “I didn’t know the contract was open to interpretation.”

  “You didn’t ask.” He cut another piece of steak and we ate in silence for a few moments. The sun was beginning to dip down behind the ocean, casting a dusky glow over the lanai. The sky was turning from a beautiful crisp blue to a shade of pinkish orange mixed with streaks of purple.

  “What are you thinking?” Callum asked.

  I hesitated, not sure if I should tell him what I was really thinking. But then I thought, screw it. I had nothing to lose.

  “I’m thinking about how you took those Ativan from me and crushed them,” I said honestly. “And I’m wondering why someone would do that.” The Submissive agrees not to have any drugs, alcohol, or other illegal substances on her person or in her possession during the duration of this agreement.

  “Do what?” Callum asked, seemingly amused. “Save you from something potentially dangerous?”

  “No, think it was okay to approach a random stranger and destroy their property.”

  He shrugged casually. “Sometimes the end justifies the means.”

  “Is that what you really think?”

  “Yes.”

  “For life in general?”

  “Yes.” He replied without hesitation. “Do you really think those pills are helping you?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I do. You don’t know anything about my personal history, or why those pills were prescribed to me.” And if you ask me, I won’t tell you.

  “I know you seem like the kind of person who is strong enough to get through periods of uncomfortableness without resorting to mind-numbing drugs.”

  “If that’s what you think I’m doing, then you don’t know the situation.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Anyway,” I said, suddenly uncomfortable. I could feel things subtly shifting, the mood moving from light to dark, and I didn’t want to encourage it in that direction.

  But he was looking at me seriously, his eyes not leaving mine, his stare letting me know he wasn’t going to back down.

  “What are you thinking?” I asked, tossing his own question back to him.

  “How it’s going to feel to fuck you tonight.”

  I almost choked on my steak. “Wow,” I said. “You don’t mince words, do you?”

  “I’m a direct to the point kind of man, Lemon,” he said. He licked his bottom lip, like he was preparing to devour me, and a shiver ran up my spine. Now I was thinking about what it would be like for him to be fucking me too, how his cock would feel pushing into me, spreading me apart. I remembered how big his dick was, and an uneasiness pulsed through me.

  “Do you have any hard limits, Adriana?” he asked. His deep blue eyes were still on mine, watching me carefully, his tone earnest.

  “What are hard limits?”

  “Things you don’t want to do, no matter what.”

  “I haven’t thought about it.”

  “Think now.”

  “Okay.” I twisted my hands in my lap. I wasn’t sure what to say about my hard limits, because I wasn’t sure I could even start to think about the things I wanted him to do to me, much less the things he might want that I wasn’t ready for. “I’m not...I’m not sure exactly what my limits are,” I said. “I don’t know what you’re expecting of me.”

  He nodded, like he understood. “Do you know what a safe word is?”

  “It’s a word you say when you want to stop something.”

  “Exactly. Our safe word can be lime.”

  “Why lime?”

  “Becau
se I call you Lemon. And therefore ‘lime’ will be easy for you to remember.”

  “Okay,” I agreed. My heart thrummed against my ribs, wondering what kinds of things he wanted to do that made him feel like I needed a special word that would signal him to stop.

  “Adriana,” he said. “It is very important that you safe word as soon as you feel you’re being pushed too hard. It’s better for us to stop then for you to do something you aren’t one hundred percent comfortable with.”

  “Okay.”

  “Promise me.”

  “I promise.”

  “You promise what?”

  “I promise to safe word as soon as I feel myself starting to hit a limit.”

  “And what is our safe word? ”

  “Lime.”

  “Good girl. Now,” he said, picking his fork back up and returning to his steak. “Tell me again about the state of publishing, and how you are determined to dedicate your life to an industry which has no hope of gaining its market share back from Amazon.”

  I couldn’t believe he wanted to go straight from talking about safe words to discussing the state of publishing. Talk about a non sequitr! But I did my best to gather my thoughts, did my best to forget about the fact that I was never going to see him after tonight, and turned my thoughts to Amazon and monopolies and publishing.

  He was a brilliant conversationalist, charming and smart, and I could tell immediately why he was so successful. Not only was he intelligent, he had a way of understanding exactly what you were saying, had a way of making you feel as if your points had been heard even while lining up facts to show you why he didn’t agree.

  We went from talking about publishing, to the economy, to different restaurants in New York. He was grown-up and cultured and so god damn hot. His laugh was deep and seductive, and anytime I could make him laugh, a warm pleasure flowed through me. He was the perfect man, and by the time the sun had finished dipping below the horizon and the food had been finished, I felt a tug of longing for him, not just to sleep with him, but to be with him, really be with him, to spend time with him and get to know him.

  I did my best to convince myself I was being silly. So what if Callum knew things about Amazon and publishing? He was a businessman -- he was paid to know those things. He knew things about all different industries. Just because I’d connected with him on that one thing didn’t mean we had a connection,

  In fact, it was the complete opposite. The contract had made it clear I wasn’t to ask him any personal questions, and I hadn’t. So then how was it that I felt so close to him?

  This is what a man like Callum could do to a woman, I decided. He could make her lose her mind and give blow jobs in back rooms of BDSM clubs, make her think there was something there when there wasn’t.

  It’s just sex, I repeated over and over in my head, like a mantra.

  “So,” Callum said, when the last bite of food was gone. “Dinner’s over.”

  “Yes,” I said, the butterflies swarming fast and hard in my stomach, their wings fluttering rapidly. “It is.”

  “What would you like to do now, Lemon?”

  “What would you like to do now?” I countered. I knew what I wanted to do, knew what we were going to do, and even though I knew I was going to be sleeping with him tonight, knew I was going to be having some kind of kinky fucked up sex with him, something about saying it out loud still felt too raw to me.

  “I’d like to get you out of that dress,” he said. “I’d like to strip you naked and run my tongue down your body until I’m eating your pussy.”

  The way he said ‘pussy’ turned me on, and I instantly got wet.

  “Okay,” I managed, and this earned me one of his laughs.

  “Oh, Lemon,” he said. He stood up and began clearing the table. I got up to help him, but he stopped me. “No. You sit. Stay comfortable.”

  I stayed in my chair and waited while he brought the plates inside.

  He was gone for a few minutes, and when he returned, he was wearing a pair of navy blue swim trunks and a white t-shirt. There were a couple of fluffy white towels in his hand.

  “Swim?” he asked, grabbing the bottom of his shirt and pulling it off.

  I remembered his body being perfect, had dreamed about his muscular chest and ripped torso for the past two days. But the reality was even more than I remembered. The firm planes of his chest slid down into the six-pack of his stomach, his shoulders chiseled and broad.

  He turned and the light from the pool illuminated his silhouette, his jawline strong and commanding, his nose straight, his gorgeous blue eyes slightly hooded. He took my breath away. I couldn’t believe a man this gorgeous, a man who could have any woman he desired, wanted to be with me.

  It was intimidating on so many different levels, and I felt myself clam up.

  “Adriana?” Callum asked again.

  “Yes?”

  “I asked you if you wanted to swim.”

  “Oh! Um, yes, sure. Just let me go get my bathing suit.” Crap! Here he was looking like a sex god, every muscle and tendon of his body impeccable, and I was going to come running out in my orange and pink striped one piece. Talk about mortifying.

  “You don’t need a bathing suit, Lemon,” Callum said, crossing the lanai to where I was still sitting at the table. He took my foot in his hand, bent my leg gently as he unbuckled my sandal and pulled it off before briefly kissing the arch of my foot. He repeated the process with my other leg, then took my hand in his and pulled me up out of my chair until I was standing.

  He brushed my hair back from my neck and began untying my dress, his hands moving slowly, his touch leaving me dizzy.

  He pulled the dress down and off, leaving it in a puddle on the cobblestones. I was left there in just my bra and thong, and even though he’d seen me in my underwear before, I felt more exposed this time, more under the microscope.

  “Very nice, Lemon,” he said, grinning wickedly as he slid his finger under the cup of my black bra before moving his hands around to cup my ass. He pulled me toward him and kissed me, his hands roaming over my body, over my buttocks, the small of my back and my shoulders before finally returning to my ass, grabbing me and lifting me slowly up off the ground.

  “Wrap your legs around me, Lemon,” he commanded gruffly, and I obeyed.

  I could feel his cock through the material of his shorts, hard and thick, and I shivered.

  He carried me toward the pool, and I giggled into his shoulders as he started down the stairs, taking me into the water. I held onto him tightly, bracing myself for the shock of cold water. But it never came. The water was the perfect temperature, warm but not too hot. He must have had it heated.

  I went to pull away from him, to swim away and catch my breath, but he held my thighs tightly and waded over to the side of the pool where he pushed me up against the wall.

  He pulled my hands from around his neck and pushed them straight up in the air.

  “Eyes down,” he said gruffly, and I did it immediately, taking my gaze from his and keeping it on the clear aqua water of the pool.

  His hands slid down my arms slowly, moving over my breasts, his palms drifting down the sides of my body as his thumbs brushed against my nipples, hardening them instantly.

  “Shit,” he groaned, pushing his pelvis into mine.

  The sensation of his cock against me sent me into ecstasy, and I went to move my hands down, to wrap them around his shoulders, to brace myself on him, to ground myself, but Callum grabbed my wrists and pushed them up over my head.

  “No,” he growled. “Arms up.”

  He kissed me again, over and over and over while his hands explored my body, his teeth nipping at my skin, his mouth skipping from my lips to my neck and back again.

  Finally, when he had me breathless and trembling, he turned his attention to my breasts, inching the cups of my bra down until my nipples were exposed to him.

  My instinct was to cover myself.

  He was so beautiful, e
very inch of his skin perfect, that I was instantly self-conscious.

  “Fuck, Adriana,” he breathed, his hands cupping my tits and shoving them together. He lowered his mouth to my nipples, sucking them into his mouth as he moved back and forth between them.

  I risked being reprimanded to glance down at him, and I groaned at the sight of him, my nipple in his mouth as the steam rose off the pool. His eyes were on my face and as soon as he caught me looking, he stopped.

  “Eyes down,” he commanded, and then he squeezed my tit hard, letting me know he was in control.

  I looked away, tipping my head back, trying to ground myself in the midnight blue sky and the twinkling stars that were just beginning to appear. He reached up and grabbed my wrists, crossed them and held them tight.

  “I really did want to swim with you, Lemon,” Callum murmured into my ear. “I didn’t want to rush this. But fuck, I can’t resist you, Adriana. I need to taste you.”

  In one fluid motion he’d picked me up and lifted me out of the pool, setting me down so that I was sitting on the cobblestone, my legs still in the water.

  He pushed my panties to the side and spread my pussy open, murmuring his approval. “Very nice,” he said, and then he lowered his head and I could feel his breath on my thighs, hot and wanting, his hand lazily brushing against my stomach, heightening the anticipation.

  And then his mouth was on me, down there, and I arched my back and groaned out loud because the pleasure was intense and instant. It was so intense it was almost too much to take, and I was afraid I was going to come right away.

  I tried to close my thighs, but Callum held them open and continued, his tongue making soft figure eights on my pussy. Every so often, just when I thought I was about to orgasm, his mouth would stop, and he would switch to using his hands.

  “You’re so tight,” he said huskily, as his finger slid inside me.

  My breathing would slow just a tiny bit, and then his mouth would be back on me, kissing me open-mouthed right on my core, his tongue and lips moving in tandem to create the most exquisite sensation I’d ever experienced.

  Finally, when I was trembling and slick with want, he grabbed my hips and pulled me back into the water. “I think I need to take you inside, Lemon,” he said. “And do this properly.”