by Hannah Ford
I was in the office pulling out my phone to call him again, when I heard the door open. I rushed down the hall, expecting to see him standing there with a bottle, his eyes hooded and bloodshot.
Instead, he stood there dressed in jeans and a leather jacket, looking completely like himself.
“Callum!” I said, rushing to him and throwing my arms around him. “Callum!” I burst into tears.
“Hey, hey, hey,” he said. “What’s wrong? Is it Jason?”
“I didn’t know where you were,” I said. “I called you, but your phone was off and then…I couldn’t find you anywhere, and I thought…”
“You thought what?” he asked.
“I thought you were drinking.” I raised my eyes to meet his. I searched his face for any sign of what I’d seen that night, the night he’d come home with Brendan. But there was nothing. Just him, standing in front of me, his eyes clear and bright.
“Oh, Adriana,” he said. His hands tightened around my waist and he pulled me toward him, kissing me on the mouth.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know where you were, and you left me all those messages, I just thought…”
“I haven’t been drinking,” he said, his hands still on my back. “But I couldn’t find you. It was driving me insane.” He pulled me toward him, hard, like the fact that I was here now made him want to hold onto me and keep me close.
“The meeting went longer than I thought,” I said.
“Still. You should have been in touch.” He was whispering right into my ear now, his breath hot on my skin. “Do you know how crazy it drives me when I don’t know where you are?”
“I’m sorry,” I said, not even caring that he was being bossy because I was just so thankful he was here, in front of me. I pressed my cheek to his chest, inhaling the clean scent of his cologne and the leather of his jacket, listening to his heart beating steady and strong.
He pulled back from me, and cupped my cheek with his hand. “I hate that I made you worry. “ He swallowed hard. “I don’t ever want to make you worry.” He kissed me again, and when he pulled back, his beautiful blue eyes shone with torture and darkness.
“What is it?” I asked. “What?”
“I wanted to drink,” he said. “I wanted to run away from the pain I felt not knowing where you were, not being able to protect you, thinking about what would happen if anything happened to you and the baby.”
“Oh, Callum.”
He swallowed. “I wanted to run from how much I love you, because the thought of you losing you…” He shook his head. “But realized that when I feel that way, I need to pull you closer, not push you away.”
My eyes closed. I knew this was always going to be a struggle for him. “I love you so much,” I said, kissing him. “Nothing is going to happen to me.”
“The carousel where we went that day, do you remember?” he asked.
“Of course I remember.”
“I wanted to take you there, to…I ‘ve been thinking about it since… well, since the day I met you. “
“Thinking about what?” I was confused.
“About marrying you.” He knelt down on one knee and reached into his pocket. My heart was beating so fast I thought it was going to jump out of my chest.
He pulled out a black ring box, and my hand flew to my mouth.
“Callum –”
“I wanted to take you back to the carousel, to make it special. I was waiting so that I could make sure that when I asked you to marry me, you had no reservations.” He shook his head, and I saw the emotion reflected on his face, the raw vulnerability there. “But I cannot wait another moment to make you mine.” He opened the box and the most gorgeous ring I’d ever seen came into view. It was a solitary square diamond surrounded by smaller diamonds set on an elegant white gold band. “Adriana, will you marry me?”
“Yes,” I said through happy tears as he slipped the ring on my finger. “Yes, I will marry you.”
He stood up and then he was kissing me all over, his hands tangling in my hair, his lips warm against mine.
“I love you,” he murmured against my mouth. “I love you so much.”
“I love you, too,” I said, giggling as he picked me up and led me to the bedroom.
He laid me down on the comforter, reaching down and beginning to take off my shoes, his hands deftly undoing the buckles.
“I don’t want you to ever feel that way again,” he said. “Worried about me and where I am.”
I nodded. “I know.”
He his eyes turned serious as he finished removing my shoe. And then his jaw clenched.
“But you do know the rules, Adriana.” His hand skated over the arch of my foot, his fingers massaging me gently. “You know that when I cannot get in touch with you, it’s unacceptable.”
“Yes.”
“You know there are always consequences to our actions.”
“Yes, sir.”
He moved to the other shoe, and his touch was already sending shockwaves of heat pulsating through my body, sparks of electricity and desire swirling together like a tornado and settling between my legs.
His hands slid up my body, over my thighs, my hips, my waist as he pulled my pantyhose off.
He stood up and shucked off his leather jacket, then reached behind him and pulled off his t-shirt. I sucked in a breath at the sight of him shirtless, his biceps huge, his six-pack defined, his shoulders broad and chiseled.
He crossed the room to a chair in the corner and sat down.
He sat there for a moment not saying anything.
“Sir?” I asked when I couldn’t take it any longer.
“Yes, Adriana?”
“What are you doing? I mean, why are you over –”
“Pull your skirt up, Adriana.”
I took a deep breath, then reached down and grabbed the bottom of my skirt, pulled it up until it was around my waist. The whole time Callum sat there, watching me, his gaze making my skin prickle.
“Good girl. Now pull off your panties and spread your legs so I can see your pussy.”
I did as I was told, spreading my legs so that he had a full view of my pussy.
My clit popped from its hood, the hard nub standing at attention. I wanted him to touch me so bad.
“Touch yourself,” he commanded.
My cheeks went hot. I knew what he was doing – since I was pregnant, he couldn’t punish me physically the way he wanted. So instead, he was going to punish me by teasing me, making me beg, doing things he knew made me humiliated.
My hand went to my pussy tentatively.
I rubbed around my clit, feeling myself get wet under his penetrating gaze.
“More.”
I kept rubbing, the friction making me so wet I could barely take it.
“Please,” I said. “Please, I want to feel you.”
“You should have thought about that before you displeased me.”
“Yes, sir,” I managed, hoping that my deference and submission to him would make him more likely to go easy on me. I kept rubbing.
“Harder.”
I rubbed harder.
“Faster.”
I rubbed faster.
The whole time he watched me. I let my gaze travel over his shirtless body, every muscle taut and toned, his body so powerful and masculine.
“Callum,” I moaned.
“Yes, baby?”
“Please.”
“Please what?”
“Please fuck me.”
“No, baby,” he said. “Not yet. Bad girls don’t get fucked, you know that, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
He got up and walked over to me, grabbed me by the hips and pulled me toward him so that he was pressed between my open legs. He reached down and unbuttoned my blouse, then pulled slowly at the cups of my bra until my tits popped out.
“Keep rubbing,” he growled.
He watched me play with myself for another long minute, his gaze trained on my bod
y, one hand playing with my nipples, moving back and forth from tit to tit as he pinched and twisted.
Finally, he took my hand from my pussy and placed it on the front of his jeans. His cock was rock hard, pulsing and throbbing through the fabric.
He guided my hands to his zipper, and I pulled it down, then reached into his boxers and pulled out his dick.
It felt so good in my hand, exactly what I wanted and needed. I began to stroke it, but he pulled my hands away and set them down on the bed.
Then he began to stroke his cock.
“Please,” I whispered, not sure if begging would make him give in or make him want to tease and torture me more.
“Please what?”
“Please fuck me.”
“Your disobedience makes it impossible for me to give you what you want.”
I moaned and writhed on the bed.
“Fuck yourself.”
I bit my lip.
“Fuck yourself with your fingers.”
I put my hand back on my pussy, playing with my clit, but he wasn’t going to let me get away with that. “No,” he growled. “Put them inside.”
I pushed my index finger inside my pussy.
“Good girl,” he said, his breathing coming in faster and faster breaths as his hand moved up and down on his cock. “Fuck yourself just like that while I jerk off over you.”
I kept doing it, fucking myself with my finger harder and faster.
“I’m going to come on you,” Callum growled. “And I want you to push it inside of your pussy with your fingers.”
My cheeks reddened. It was so dirty, so nasty, that I wasn’t sure I could do it.
He moved closer to me, his dick poised over me.
“Adriana,” he groaned. “God, baby, you look so fucking sexy.” His hand trailed over my stomach, down to my clit, and he rubbed it with his thumb, sending flames licking through my body.
My fingers pushed into my pussy harder as I watched him fist his hard cock, his six-pack flexing with his movements.
When he exploded a moment later, shooting his load onto my pussy, I came too, as I did as I was told and pushed his seed inside of me.
He collapsed on top of me, and pulled me toward him, holding me against him.
I waited as our heart rates slowed, then reached up and traced a heart pattern on his chest.
“I sold your book,” I said. “I didn’t even tell you.”
He pulled back and looked at me, his eyes bright with excitement. “You sold my book?”
I nodded. “For seven million dollars.”
“Jesus.”
“I know.” My cheeks blushed. “It was amazing. I loved it, being in there, making deals.”
“I’m sure you did. A million dollars is a lot of money.”
“A million dollars?”
“Your fifteen percent.”
“Oh, no, I can’t –”
He placed a finger against my lips. “It’s all ours,” he said. “Everything I have is yours. There is no yours or mine.” His hand trailed down over my stomach, resting on my tiny bump. “We are all one.”
“Then why should I get fifteen percent?”
“Because you’re building your business. It will be good seed money.”
I nodded, thinking of all the emails waiting for me, all the books I might be able to sell. My own business. A baby. A husband.
Callum reached down and pulled me to him.
I could feel him against my stomach, rock hard and ready to go again.
He raised my leg up over my hip and slid into me gently, nudging me open, letting me get used to his thickness as he rocked into me.
“I love you so much,” he said, cupping my cheeks in his hands.
I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath in as his mouth kissed down my neck.
“I love you too,” I said.
“Look at me,” he whispered.
I opened my eyes, and looked into his, those beautiful blue eyes that I kept tumbling into, over and over again.
His forehead rested against mine as he moved inside of me, making us one.
After, he held me until I fell asleep.
And when I drifted off, I couldn’t believe that this was my life, couldn’t believe that I had everything I’d ever wanted.
EPILOGUE
Callum
I woke at five am, the apartment still and quiet, except for the sound of the baby starting to stir in her bassinet.
I got out of bed, careful not to wait Adriana, and picked her up.
“Shh, Emma,” I said, kissing her forehead. “Come on, let’s not wake your mom.”
I took her to the kitchen and warmed her a bottle. I fed her on the couch while I watched Sportscenter. We talked, her and I, my amazing little daughter, about sports and teams, about the games I would take her to when she was old enough. She looked at me, her eyes blue, blinking as she stared at me, trying to figure out this beautiful new world.
Adriana appeared two hours later, her hair in a ponytail, her face bright and beautiful.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” she asked sleepily, joining us on the couch.
She reached for the baby and I handed Emma to her, watching the joy on Adriana’s face as she looked at our daughter.
My heart swelled with love for the two of them. My wife. My daughter. My family.
Adriana’s wedding ring twinkled in the early morning sunlight that had just begun to shine through the window. I couldn’t wait to marry her, so we’d married right away. Our wedding picture hung on the wall, the two of us smiling into the camera.
We would have a big party in a few months, once things calmed down with the baby.
Or not.
We would do whatever Adriana wanted.
I existed to make her – and now our daughter – happy.
“I sold that young adult book I was telling you about,” she said. “The offer came in last night.”
“The paranormal romance? That’s amazing.”
“Yes.” She blushed. “It wasn’t for a lot of money, but the book is so good, it deserved to find a home.”
She snuggled in next to me and rested her head against my shoulder. “Oh! And tonight we’re having drinks with Nessa and her new boyfriend, is that okay? She really wants us to meet him.”
“Of course.” We sat there for a moment as the baby cooed between us. I reached down and adjusted Emma’s blanket. “Hungry?” I asked Adriana.
“Starving.”
“Pancakes?”
“Always.”
I kissed her head, wondering how I could have ever been afraid of this feeling, of loving someone so much it hurt.
“Thank you,” I whispered into her hair.
“For what?” she asked.
“For her.” I looked down at the baby. “For you. For everything.”
She smiled and when I leaned down to kiss her, I knew there was nothing to be afraid of anymore.
This was it.
This was forever.
She’d changed my life, she’d made me a better man.
She had given me everything I never knew was possible, everything I thought I never deserved.
And I couldn’t have been happier.
THE END
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Jackson (The Billionaire Croft Brothers, Book One) by Paige North
Jackson
I sit staring at the phone, my hand clenched in a fist over my mouth. I close my eyes and tell myself to get my shit together. Do the usual, calm my breathing and remind myself that I can fight through this just like always.
A few seconds later, my eyes open again…and I’m still fucked.
My father always knew how to push my buttons, but after twenty-eight years of his shit, I thou
ght I’d learned to stay cool under his unrelenting pressure—and the pressures of Croft International. This business is all pressure, all the time. There is no room for any cracks or weaknesses.
But that phone call…
How could he?
After everything I’ve done to earn my place in this business? After all of my sacrifices?
It turns out the old man saved his best trick for last. Pulled the rug out from under me and then disappeared off the face of the earth, so he’d never have to answer for any of it.
I get up and stride across my expansive office to the bar tucked into custom-made walnut bookshelves. Toss a few cubes in a glass and pour three fingers worth of the scotch that is the same age as I am.
I take a deep gulp as I look out at the view from my office. The strong, smooth alcohol and serene view of the boats bobbing in the harbor are supposed to soothe me. Instead, all I feel is anger rising and rising, the image of my bastard father growing stronger. He’s laughing from the grave where the dirt is still fresh, of that there is no doubt in my mind.
A grating buzz sounds from the phone.
“Mr. Croft? Your ten a.m. is here.”
“Christ,” I mutter. I push the intercom button. “Sandra, I can’t do it. You’ll have to reschedule.” I don’t even remember what’s on my calendar but at this moment I don’t care. My only plan is to finish this scotch, then start on another.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Croft. But she says this is the third time—”
“Damn it, I said I'm busy!” I snap. What part of reschedule did she not understand? I throw back another drink, nearly draining the glass. It stings my throat but in a good way, like a rough massage.
That should’ve been that, but then I hear some bullshit outside my door.
“…I don’t care what he said,” a woman is saying, her voice smooth but insistent. “I’m not going to reschedule again, it’s insulting.”
The door flies open and a woman comes in, trailed by Sandra who is frantically chasing her.
“At least he can tell me why he’s cancelling again to my face,” the woman finishes. She stands just inside my office, her green eyes blazing toward me.