Callous

by Xavier Neal

  His hands wrap around my waist, “You don’t think their death was an accident?”

  “I think that the only thing you get from defending people with more money than God is people who think they are. People who think they can take lives whenever they want. When my father died, I swore I’d never date a fucking lawyer. I swore I wouldn’t do that to myself.” I run a hand down the front of C.J.’s chest, my fingers craving to dig into the taut flesh. Leaning down I tease his top lip with my tongue, making sure his dick rises to the occasion. “Now...I wanna fuck, so if we’re done with the family history lesson...”

  C.J.’s lips press against mine roughly as his large hands dig into my sides.

  Love when he takes charge.

  Our tongues start the dance they’re getting used to, rolling and massaging, fighting and craving, while my fingernails pierce his flesh with a deep stab. When his face pulls away from mine, leaving me panting, he rips his shirt open causing the buttons to fly everywhere.

  With a devious smile I say, “It was an ugly knock off from Marc Jacobs anyway. It needed to be destroyed.”

  “And you...” his teeth take a bite of my nipple causing me to yelp. “Need to be punished.” The last word rolling off his lips causes the wetness that was already growing to triple. I watch as C.J. laps at my nipples, his piercing rubbing against me repeatedly whispering for an orgasm to come out and play before he even enters me. While I’m battling back my climax, he continues biting and sucking my hardened nipples to the brink of pain and thrill, a place I’ve always rather enjoyed.

  Oh what do you want from me? I blame Ludacris. You know the rapper. He gave me too many ideas...something about whips or chains or handcuffs or liking it rough. Now’s not a good time for music trivia!

  When C.J. bites again, it feels like torture to my pussy that’s swollen and ready to just go at it again. In a swift motion, he reaches for a condom that’s on the table and rips it open.

  Where the hell did he get those?

  “I knew I was gonna have you again,” he informs me.

  Can he hear us? Are you feeding him information? There’s a level of trust here. You better not break it.

  Before I can object or even mouth off, his dick is covered and sunk deep inside igniting the orgasm I had been trying to deny. Breathlessly I whisper, “God, C.J.”

  His lips brush against my ear as he brings me down hard again on top of him, “Damn right I’m a God, babe.”

  The cocky comment is enough to elicit a bitchy response, but the way his cock is worshiping my pussy puts all other things on hold. C.J. pins both my arms behind my back with one hand while using the other to grab my hair. The roughness of me bouncing on his dick doesn’t slow down and the constant pressure from his piercing in just the right spot tells me I’m a goner all over again.

  My muscles flex in warning, and C.J. pulls my hair to make sure we’re eye level. In a stern voice he commands, “Beg.”

  Oh he’s lost his goddamn mind...

  My refusal is obvious, which is when he slows down to a harrowing level that could make the devil think about crying. In the same firm voice he says, “You will not come until you beg.”

  Aggravated in a strangely exhilarating way I snap, “Then I guess I’m not coming.”

  “Is that so?” he rolls his hip and his cock nudges at my orgasm to come out from hiding. With another tug of my hair, and a tightened grip on my wrists that are pinned behind my back, he rolls them again this time following with a small bite to my neck. “Beg for that orgasm, babe. Your body needs it.”

  Smug, sly, sneaky son of a bitch is right. If my muscles tighten any harder around him they’re going to have to surgically remove his dick from me.

  Tempting me again he whispers, “Beg....”

  My lips betray me. “Please make me come, C.J!”

  And just like that his cock returns to a harsher thrust breaking free the climax I was being denied on a loud and heavy scream.

  Well at least his neighbors downstairs won’t have to guess if I’ve had a good time.

  After just a few more coarse cries from me, C.J. grumbles out a curse as he comes, proving that holding my orgasm hostage was turning him on and hurting him just as much as it was me. His grip loosens from my wrists and my hair to wrap his arms tightly around me. Oddly enough, I feel safe. Something I don’t feel very often. With his head on my shoulder and heart knocking out of his chest against mine, I let my eyes close relishing in the warm sentiment. The second his fingertips start stroking my lower back warning bells go off.

  Can you hear them too? Yeah that high pitched shrieking noise. No, that’s not me in the middle of coming again. Such attitude...

  “Erin,” his soft voice cuts through my thoughts.

  “Hm?”

  “Spend the night with me?” C.J. lifts his face so that our eyes meet again.

  I stare back at the hopeful gleam in them and feel my heart object to what my brain is saying. “I can’t.”

  “Erin—”

  “Not a good idea, C.J.”

  “Not a good idea tonight?”

  “Ever,” I inform him as the oven’s timer screeches loudly.

  Or was that you? Look you don’t get it. You don’t have to either. Facts are facts. I don’t do relationships. People get hurt in them. I don’t do attachments because people walk away. And I don’t do overnights because going down that path leads you down the others. Deal with it.

  Chapter 11

  C.J.

  I am totally and completely fucked. Maybe because hooking up with Erin is turning out to be the best and shittiest decision I have ever made in my life. And I’ve done some shitty things. Trust me. But getting mixed up with a girl I can’t walk away from is at the top. She won’t open up to me and I can’t let that go. It’s like trying to walk away from an SVU marathon on T.V. You know you should, you know it’s all gonna end in drama and tragedy and jail time, but you stay anyway. And if that’s not enough, she hates lawyers. Fiery, passion style! Yup, I’m fucked.

  Pulling my white t-shirt over my head, I exit my bathroom to answer the constant knocking of my front door.

  Stuart has a fucking key. Why he doesn’t just use it is beyond me.

  When my front door swings open it doesn’t take even a moment for my stomach to jump into my throat. Clutching it tightly I wiggle my jaw in an attempt to find something to say.

  This. Can’t. Be. Real.

  “So it is true,” her shrill voice says slowly bringing back the years of having to listen to it. “Hiding in Texas. Busy playing cowboy or hipster, Christian?”

  “How’d you find me?” my eyes roam over her designer coat that’s fitted like a glove and red high heels I’m sure she borrowed from Satan.

  That’s if she’s been allowed back to hell.

  “Like it’s hard?” she grunts. “Are you going to invite me in or what?”

  “I forgot you’re like a vampire, can’t come in without permission.” I smirk and open the door wider. “Except instead of blood, you suck cash.”

  “Credit or trust funds are accepted as well,” she teases back as her eyes give my apartment a quick assessment. “God, this place is awful. Not even a fraction of the nice condo we shared.” I don’t respond. She turns around and folds her arms across her chest. “Then again at that time when we were engaged and you were a high priced attorney not slumming it as the help.”

  See why she’s not welcomed back to the gates of Hades? Lucifer would wanna duct tape her mouth fucking shut.

  “Surely you didn’t come here just to judge.”

  “Of course not,” she sneers. “I wanted to see what the man I was going to call my husband left me at the altar for. Have to say, Christian, this place is a dump.”

  With a heavy sigh, I fold my arms across my chest. “Look Jess, I’ve apologized enough times about that—”

  “Oh, so there’s a set amount of times you do that based on the dick head’s action?”

  There should
be.

  “I called a week after. I called a month after. I called a couple months after that. I have apologized more than an adequate number of times. Am I sorry I left you? No. Am I sorry for the way it went down? Yes. But if memory serves me correctly, you not only kept the wedding presents as sympathy tokens you went on our honeymoon with one of my groomsmen.”

  Shady, right?

  “So as much as I’ve apologized, you’ve already gotten what you really wanted so—”

  “What I wanted?” she steps towards me a scowl on her face. “What I wanted was to marry you!”

  “What you wanted was to marry a paycheck. And by the look of the $400 coat you’re wearing and the $600 shoes, I’d say you’re well on your way.”

  Shit. That was low. Even for me. But hey, wouldn’t you be a little fucking defensive at this point?

  Slowly, she licks her over painted red lips.

  There’s venom on her tongue. I’m talking black mamba, kill you instantly with just a touch kind.

  “Let me make something crystal clear for you,” Jess clicks her heels towards me, the sound of hatred in each step. “Until I make you feel as pathetic and humiliated as I did being left in the fucking church minutes before I was supposed to walk down the aisle, things are not over. And let me reiterate that for you, Christian. The time will come when I can destroy something you love and you better fucking believe with everything in that under dressed body of yours. I. Will. Take. It.” I nervously swallow. She smiles victorious. “Now...if you’ll excuse me, I have to get to Jennifer’s. Since you don’t keep up with anyone in town besides Sara, let me be the one to tell you that Jen is getting married here in town. She and her husband to be moved to this shit hole about six months ago because of his job and the desire to be close to family. You know that desire you never had.”

  See why the gate keeper to hell has her on the “Do Not Enter” list?

  Walking past me she heads for the door, but before she shuts it she looks over her shoulder a devious smile on her face. “Take care, Christian. I’m sure we’ll speak again, soon.”

  With a hard slam of my door behind her, she’s gone.

  I pull at the collar of my shirt suddenly feeling like I’m in court and the case in front of me is open and shut with me on the losing side.

  Do I deserve bad karma for leaving a woman standing at the altar? Probably. Do I deserve the wrath of a thousand hell hounds chomping at my ass that the devil woman is gonna bring? Hardly. Don’t look at me like that. There are worse things I could’ve done than bail on my own wedding seconds before I signed my soul away to that wench who would’ve taken me for everything and more according to the pre-nup we had waiting to be signed.

  Anxious, I decide the best way to get Jess from under my skin, is to get Erin under me.

  So it’s not, gonna fucking cure my problems, but you’re not my therapist.

  Quickly I put on a pair of tennis shoes, grab the recently filed adoption papers listing Maxx and Logan as Dean’s parents, and head out with pure determination to get the regrets of my past off my mind.

  After a short drive, I park my black SUV in front of Erin’s house that she currently shares with her brother, as well as Maxx, Logan, and Dean. That is until their house is ready, which should be in the next couple of weeks.

  See why we bone at my place? Less likely to get caught.

  I knock on the door four times before Maxx opens the front door with a pissed off look on her face.

  Is it international Pissed Off Women’s Day or what?

  “Do you have any idea how hard it is to waddle down the damn stairs?” She snaps. I open my mouth to respond when she cuts me off. “I heard you knock the first fucking time, C.J. Forgive me if the tiny Kellar growing inside me prevents me from a speedy answer.”

  Might I suggest that you proceed with caution? I know, I will.

  “Sorry,” I sheepishly apologize. “Didn’t know you were the only one here, Erin’s car is outside.”

  “I’m not the only one here.” she turns and lets me into the house. “Luke is upstairs getting ready to drive me to my appointment.”

  “And Erin?” I casually ask following her to the kitchen area where I place the papers on the bar.

  “Went out for a run . Didn’t feel like the gym,” she replies.

  “Why isn’t Kellar taking you to the doc?”

  “He’s at the gym but meeting us there. Heaven forbid I do anything baby related without him.”

  With a crooked smile, I lean against the kitchen counter watching her pour herself a glass of chocolate milk. “Isn’t that supposed to be a good thing?”

  “Right up until he wants to me to get, ‘What To Expect When You’re Expecting’ on audio book for us to listen to together before bed every night!” I stifle a laugh. She quickly bites, “It’s not funny, C.J.! Logan is losing his mind! He’s so over protective of this child that I’m convinced I may kill him before the baby is born.”

  Do. Not. Laugh. Whatever you do, do not laugh right now. You’ll get us both in trouble.

  “Kinda cute, Maxx.”

  “Kinda annoying, C.J.” she responds in a snarky voice. After a drink of her milk she questions, “What are you doing here besides dropping off the papers Logan said he was going to grab from you tomorrow?” Guilty I look down at the counter and back up. “Ah. Erin. How is that going anyway?”

  The memory of her screaming my name brings a grin to my face. “I’d say pretty well.”

  “Did you just have a sex recap in front of my face?” Maxx makes a disgusted noise before another drink of milk. “Have you told her yet?”

  I shake my head slowly. Curious I ask, “Did you know she hates lawyers?”

  Maxx nods. “And airplanes. Hasn’t flown since her parents’ death; neither has Luke.”

  “Neither has Luke what?” her brother appears at the bottom of the stairs in a beige turtle neck and jeans.

  “Allowed me to indulge in the sweet pleasure of things high in sugar,” she covers for me.

  Maxx gets me. She was in a similar situation with her husband before they hooked up. He tried to keep her at a distance and she wouldn’t stop fighting. Sound familiar? Only difference is he caved and I’m not sure Erin ever will.

  “So the chocolate milk you are drinking before you doctor’s appointment is following diet protocol how?” Luke fusses.

  I know he’s a nurse but he looks like and sounds like a fitness nutritionist most of the time when he lectures.

  “I don’t think you should get to say the word protocol,” Maxx sighs putting the glass in the sink. “It sounds like a military attack is coming.”

  The sound of the front door closing turns all of our attention to Erin who walks in wearing a pair of tiny black running shorts and a black tank top.

  Yup. Need her naked. Now!

  “You went running in that?” Luke fusses. “Do you have any idea the kind of message you’re projecting?”

  “Do you have any idea what kind of message you’re projecting in that sweater? You look like a missing page from a Macy’s catalog. Extra gay edition.” Her snide remark is followed by her folding her arms across her chest, making her tits pop out. My tongue touches my lips as my dick stiffens slightly, ready for action.

  “If you’re going to eye rape my sister could you at least keep your tongue in your mouth?” Luke’s comment causes me to grin wider.

  “Can’t rape the willing,” she throws in his face and he rolls his eyes. Erin’s brown eyes falls on me, no emotion one way or another clear on her face in regards to my presence.

  Do you see anything? Regret? Desire? Or are you looking at the same Erin she was weeks ago before she was calling my name like an S.O.S. to God to continue to deliver the good sex she was being given?

  “What are you doing here?” Erin ponders out loud.

  “He was dropping off papers for me.”

  “Again?” she seems skeptical.

  “I had him copy the Kid’s records j
ust in case something happened during the move,” Maxx lies for me.

  “Why him?”

  “I volunteered,” I step into the conversation.

  “We should go,” Luke checks his wrist watch again. “We’re gonna be late.”

  “Yes drill sergeant,” Maxx mocks and heads towards the door. “But if I don’t get lunch immediately after this appointment prepare for World War Three. And that’s a promise Luke Daniel Hart.”

  That’s the last thing we hear before the door shuts. Once I’ve willed my cock down enough, I turn to face Erin, my eyes roaming her body causing my dick to pop right back up.

  What do you expect? She’s practically naked. Hm. Good point. Practically isn’t the same as naked now is it.

  When my eyes fall into Erin’s, I notice the heated look in them. After unfolding her arms, she pulls her top over her head letting her boobs hang free in all their magnificent glory.

  She has tits so perfect I’m pretty sure Victoria Secret should photo shop them on the models in the damn ads.

  “Wanna make me come before work?”

  If I didn’t love doing that before, I damn sure love doing it now.

  “You wanna make me?” I counter stalking towards her slowly as she backs up in the direction of her bedroom.

  Tempting me she whispers, “You first...”

  Like the animal instinct she drives inside me I pounce. My body slams hers into the wall right outside of her bedroom. Her mouth covers mine and she whimpers on contact.

  If I didn’t know any better I’d say she craves me as much as I do her.

  Allowing her tongue to briefly touch mine while my fingertips roll around her nipples, I enjoy the heat of her skin against mine. Every time we touch it feels like one of us is on fire and instead of trying to put it out we pour gasoline on it. I give one of her nipples a sharp tug and she pulls her lips away from mine to curse.

  Taking the chance to use my freed mouth on another part of her body I suck her earlobe into my mouth. My knee nestles between her thighs to help keep her propped up. Erin whimpers again this time slipping her hands under my shirt, scraping the skin with her nails.