I wanted her so fucking bad.
She tried to move her wrists away from my hold, but I kept them firmly planted against the sheets. She was mine, and she didn’t even know it. When I wanted her to touch me, I would let go. But for now, I was the one in charge.
Our lips danced together and increased in pace. For the first time, I gave her my tongue, and hers immediately greeted mine. Her mouth tasted sweet, like the wine we had over dinner. Our embrace grew in intensity, and I found my hips rocking into her, dry-humping her like a fucking teenager.
Why did I make that goddamn promise?
Her hips slowly grinded against mine, her desire directing her body. Her legs hooked around my waist, and that didn’t help matters.
Now, I just wanted to fuck her even more. “I want you so badly.” The definition of my cock continued to rub directly against her panties, and I wished we were skin-to-skin. But I could make her come this way. In fact, I could make her come any way.
She breathed into my mouth when she paused our kiss. “I want you too, Calloway.”
My spine shivered when she said my name, and I pictured her screaming it as I fucked her hard into the mattress. I preferred to be called Cal, but I loved hearing my full name on her lips. Her naturally husky voice made it sound so goddamn sexy. No one else could pull that off.
I grinded against her harder, pressing right against the most sensitive part of her nub. I moved her wrists together, so I could grip them with a single hand before I moved my other hand up her thigh, feeling the silky, smooth skin. My fingers dug into her thigh, gripping her harder as I pressed her deeper into the mattress.
This juvenile foreplay was far beneath me in my sexual experience, and the last time I dry-humped like this was in eighth grade. After that, I graduated to fucking hard in the back of my pickup. But somehow, it felt like the sexiest thing I’d ever done. I wasn’t inside her, but it felt just as good. I flexed my ass before I thrust my hips against her, trying to feel that friction of her sex against the shaft of my cock. The more we moved together, the better it felt, and the amateur nature of the act turned me on even more. I would never resort to this with other women. I only did it with Rome because that was all I could get. It felt so wrong that it felt right—and I knew I was going to come in my slacks.
Like a fucking teenager.
She tried to free her wrists again, and this time, I allowed it. I wanted to see what she would do with those hands. She cupped my face and kissed me harder, her fingertips digging into my hair. Now she was sweaty and out of breath, clinging to me in desperation. She was on the edge of an orgasm—a gift from me.
Sweat formed on my back underneath my shirt then trickled down. I could strip my clothes away and hers, but this felt so much dirtier. We were so hot for each other that we were making this work, enjoying it as much as we would enjoy actual sex. It only excited me for the real thing—the moment I would finally fuck her. Now I knew she would be a heathen in the sack. Once I had her hands chained behind her back and I fucked her in the ass, she would adore it. I could envision the fun before it even began.
Her hands moved to my shoulders next, and she dug her nails hard enough that I could feel them through my shirt. Slowly, they migrated down to my ass, and she pulled me harder into her, wanting my thick cock to press into her with more force.
Fuck, that was hot.
“You want my cock, sweetheart?”
Her face was beet red, and her lips were parted in preparation for an orgasm. She knew it was coming, and she wanted extra friction to make it combust. “Yes.”
Hearing that response made my cock twitch. I deepened the angle on top of her then thrust into her hard, ramming my cock against her throbbing clit. My ass was sore from squeezing so tightly, and my balls were drawing closer to my body as I prepared to come.
I watched her tits shake in her dress as I rocked into her, picturing how gorgeous they would be once her clothes were gone. She had a nice chest, and I planned to tit-fuck her one of these days. Her cheeks flushed further, and her mouth gaped open as the explosion slowly trickled through her body. Her eyes became lidded as she looked at me, and it was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.
When I was with Isabella, I enjoyed myself immensely. She did everything I asked, even things most submissives wouldn’t dare attempt. But even the dirtiest thing with her didn’t compare to how I felt now—with Rome. I wasn’t even inside her, and I was in heaven. I gave her a final kiss and sucked her bottom lip into my mouth. “Come for me. Now.” My Dominant voice slipped out before I could stop it, but I didn’t regret it.
Because she came. “Oh god, Calloway.”
Now I was going to burst.
She dug her nails into my biceps and grinded against me, her face a beautiful shade of pink and her mouth in the delectable O that I’d wanted to see since I met her. “Yes…fuck.” She pulled me closer to her as my cock slid across her folds.
My hand moved under her head, and I fisted her hair like a tyrant. I told myself I wouldn’t do that because it was a dead giveaway to who I truly was—a dictator. But I couldn’t stop myself. She’d just come and said my name, and now I was prepared to fill my boxers with my come—for her.
She rode the high until it reached its climax then she slowly drifted down. Her nails started to loosen from my arms, but she still moaned quietly to herself. Her eyes were glued to mine, and that look of satisfaction was worth more than a vault of gold.
I grinded against her with a few more strokes until I came with a moan, my eyes glued to her face. I couldn’t wait to fill her bare pussy with every drop of my seed. I couldn’t wait to claim her as my own. But for now, filling my boxers was good enough. “Rome…fuck.” It was the best orgasm I’d had to date—and I almost couldn’t believe it.
I was thirty years old, and I just dry-humped someone.
She wrapped her arms around my neck affectionately then kissed the corner of my mouth. It was full of gratitude, thankful for the way I’d just rocked her world through my slacks. The kiss was delicate and soft, but it made my insides burn with longing. “You’re such a man.”
The unexpected compliment filled me with warmth, and the sincerity in her voice sent chills down my spine. I didn’t know exactly what her compliment meant, but I assumed she was impressed I made her come so hard without actually touching her. I made her feel like the sexiest woman in the world.
And I would do that every night.
7
Rome
I got there early and set up the kitchen, a ridiculous smile on my face that wouldn’t disappear. Calloway was a phenomenal kisser, and his package was impressive. Once I felt the definition against my clitoris, I was gone.
He gave me the best orgasm I’d ever had.
He didn’t sleep over like I thought he might. He went home, and I hadn’t heard from him since. He was supposed to help me out today, but he hadn’t shown yet. Hopefully, his alarm went off.
The kitchen staff arrived and prepared the meal. We were serving chicken and dumplings, rice, and carrots, along with a piece of French bread. It was warm and filling, and it would give the homeless some respite from the cold.
“Hey, pretty lady.” John came behind the counter and looked me up and down. “Do something fun last night?” He wore the same green sweater covered with stains, and his black pants had holes in the knees. He’d been living on the streets for ten years, diagnosed with extreme bipolar depression. Sometimes, like now, he was in a great mood. And other times, I couldn’t get him to even speak.
I smiled so I could keep up his good mood as long as possible. “I had a date.”
“Ooh…about time. You’re always working.”
“I know. I need to get out more.”
“Well, I’m always available if this chap doesn’t work out.”
I smiled because I knew he was kidding. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Your services are unnecessary.” The threat filled the room and cast a shadow over everyo
ne. Even the guys sitting at the back table could feel it because they all looked at us. Calloway’s voice took on a new tone I’d never heard before. Without raising his voice or using explicit words, he managed to terrify everyone. He looked down at John and silently excused him from the conversation.
John didn’t stick around after that. He walked into the seating area and joined some of the members of his gang. Their voices fell and they huddled together, obviously talking about Calloway’s unwelcome presence.
Calloway walked to me, wearing a gray t-shirt and dark jeans. His clothes didn’t look old, and I hoped he was prepared to get them demolished with gravy. The irritated look was still on his face when he looked at me, like I was somehow responsible for what just happened.
My good mood evaporated like steam. “What the hell was that?”
“What?” He kept a straight face like it was a legitimate question.
“You didn’t need to be an ass to John. He’s a very nice guy.”
“Any guy who hits on you is not a nice guy.” He grabbed an apron from the pile and tied it around his waist.
“You hit on me.”
“Not the same thing, and you know it.” He walked away before I could say anything more. He grabbed a stainless steel container full of dumplings and placed it on the food line.
Was the conversation over? I joined him at the counter and put one hand on my hip, giving him a fiery look. “That was unacceptable, and you know it was. He was just joking—”
“No. He wasn’t.” He dropped the cylinder into the tray then turned back to me. The red apron was tight across his broad and powerful chest. He probably needed one a few sizes bigger—a size we didn’t have. “It’s one thing to be nice to someone, but it’s another to let them walk all over you. He crossed a line, and we both know it. Small talk is fine. But romantic advances are not.”
“But it wasn’t a romantic advance.”
He glanced around us to make sure we weren’t being overheard. “I’m all about helping people in need. I’ve been doing it for seven years. But don’t put yourself in a situation where people can take advantage of you. Because I promise you, they will.”
“John was just being nice. Now he’s going to be depressed for a few days.”
“At least he learned his lesson.” He walked away to retrieve another tray.
Was this really happening? Last night, we had an amazing night. Now, we were already fighting. He was a different person than I remembered, changing into an evil like I’d flipped a switch. “Whoa, hold on.” I caught up to him. “Don’t insult the people I look after. Don’t boss me around, and don’t treat my friends like shit. You aren’t my boyfriend, Calloway.” Now it was my turn to march off.
He stopped me by the wrist and pulled me into his side with such strength I nearly lost my balance. He looked down into my face, his blue eyes intense with frustration. He practically ripped me apart with just the look. “I am your boyfriend.” He squeezed my wrist harder then pulled me further into his chest. “I don’t flirt with other women or let them flirt with me. You’ll do the same. End of story.” He pressed a hard kiss on my lips then released me immediately. He walked off like the conversation hadn’t just happened, and he grabbed a tray of food before he returned it to the line. Not once did he look at me, dismissing me like I didn’t exist at all.
After we started serving the meal, Calloway was in a better mood. He spoke to each person as they moved down the line, asking them how their day was and telling them a few jokes to make them laugh. The good-natured man I knew had returned to the surface, directly opposite of the man I just witnessed a few moments ago.
When John came down the line, he kept his head down and wouldn’t even look at me.
“We’ve got your favorite today, John. Chicken and dumplings.”
He only nodded and stuck out his tray.
I served the food on the plate and watched him move down the line, wishing he would talk to me. He skipped Calloway completely and went to the next person in line to get carrots and bread.
I gave Calloway the darkest glare I could muster, hating him for scaring off a man just trying to get by. John refused half of his meal just to avoid him. The guy already had it hard enough before Calloway had to be a jerk. If he really thought John was a threat, he was crazy.
Calloway felt my stare because he glanced at me from the corner of his eyes. Then he moved down the line, cutting in front of the nearby worker, and took John’s tray from his hand. He piled the food onto the tray, giving him far more than the others, and then handed it back. “Why was six afraid of seven?”
John stared at him blankly, still cautious.
Calloway continued. “Because seven is a registered six offender.”
The corner of John’s lip rose in a smile, and finally, a chuckle came out of his mouth. Soon, he laughed. The kind that erupted from deep inside his throat. He moved down the line, chuckling to himself. “Six offender… I’m telling that to the guys.” He grabbed a piece of bread then joined the others at the table.
My anger disappeared, and I finally gave him a smile.
Calloway returned to his place beside me and continued serving the people who came down the line.
I turned to him when there was a break in the line, a smile on my lips. “Thank you.”
Calloway said nothing, pretending he hadn’t heard me.
When the day was over and the soup kitchen closed, we walked out into the freezing cold of the city. Our clothes were dirty, and we needed a warm shower and a change in wardrobe.
I was mad at Calloway initially, but when I saw the goodness within him shine, that resentment disappeared. He didn’t apologize for what he did, but he tried to make up for it. And in the end, that’s all that mattered.
“Would you like to come over?” Even with gravy stains on his t-shirt, he looked scorching. His brown hair was a little messy, like he woke up that morning looking perfect but a little casual. The stubble on his face was gone because he’d shaved that morning, but by the evening, it would return. “I’ll make us some dinner.”
A warning blared in my heart the moment he issued the invitation. I still wanted to jump his bones and fall head over heels for this man I hardly knew. My gut and my heart were telling me to go all in without any precaution. But something stronger, my brain, was telling me it was too good to be true, and there was something I was missing. He was just too perfect—his jealous tantrum aside.
But he promised four weeks of abstinence, and I believed he would keep his word. Fooling around was enough for me since he was so good at it. “Sure. I’ll go home and shower then I’ll be over there.”
“Why don’t we just go now?”
I understood exactly what he was implying.
“We’ll throw your clothes in the wash, and you can wear some of my stuff around the house. I’m sure you’ll look better in my clothes than I do.” He winked, that childish grin stretching across his face.
Did he get tired of being so irresistible all the time?
“Or you’ll look even better wearing nothing at all.”
I pictured him in a penthouse on the top floor of the highest skyscraper in all of Manhattan. Dark furniture that reeked of sexual conquests with a cabinet full of the hardest liquor known to man. His bed was probably made with black sheets that reflected the dim light of the nighttime buildings across the street.
But he lived in a house.
It was three stories tall with oak trees along the front yard. A black gate kept pedestrians off his property, and rose bushes covered in thorns lined the pathway. A large three-car garage connected to the street behind the house. Since we were on foot, we entered through his front door.
Hardwood made of deep cherry wood was underneath our feet, and the entryway table was just as dark. A long red rug led the way into the center of the house. A wooden staircase was to the right, leading to the other two floors, and an expansive living room was directly before us. The couches were made of gray
cotton, and a large flat screen was on the wall. The entryway alone was the size of my tiny apartment.
The kitchen was decked out in granite countertops, black appliances, and a Sub-Zero fridge with a glass door that allowed you to see everything inside. Fruits, vegetables, lean meat, and almond milk were displayed in the forefront. His diet was clearly strict, but I wasn’t surprised based on his incredible physique.
The moment I stepped foot inside that kitchen, I was in love. Not with him, but with the room. It was enormous, big enough for him to prep dinner for twenty guests. There was a large kitchen island in the center and lots of counter space on either side. I couldn’t stop myself from wearing my heart on my sleeve, and I sighed in longing. “This is the most beautiful kitchen I’ve ever seen.”
He leaned against the counter, his arms over his chest. “You like it?”
“I love it. I’ve always dreamt of having a kitchen like this.”
He watched me admire his home, his blue eyes never leaving my face.
“I don’t even have a stove.” I laughed because it was funny, but it was also depressing. I had to do all my cooking with a microwave and I ate take out for everything else. It was a lifestyle I chose because it was the lesser of two evils. If I wanted to make a real difference in this world and help people, I had to sacrifice a few things—like having a nice kitchen and being debt-free.
“You’re welcome to come over and cook whenever you want.”
I smiled when I realized his motive. “You just want someone to cook for you.”
“Naked, of course. That’s a requirement.”
“I’d have to wear an apron at least.”
“I’ll let you wear panties—but that’s it.” He didn’t smile to show he was joking. He looked dead serious.
My ears started to feel warm, so I changed the subject. “This isn’t where I pictured you living.”
“And where did you think I would live?”
Black Obsidian Page 7