by Serena Lyons
I’m vaguely aware of the crowd around us slowing down, turning in to watch us, but it doesn’t stop me. I’m enjoying myself too much: the joy of a good dance partner and the knowledge my plan to seduce Callum is going perfectly.
The track fades and something much less danceable comes on. We pull away from each other, panting. Does he feel as shaky as I do?
I’m about to ask him where he learnt to dance, but then I remember his genes, his rockstar god of a father. I can’t exactly claim surprise that the son of Britain’s most famous rocker can dance.
“Still very much standing.” I push my hair back from my face and smirk at him.
“You most certainly are.” His eyes trail over my body again, across my panting chest as I regain my breath. “Where did you learn to dance like that? Stage school?” He says the words in a confused tone, like he can’t connect my dance moves with this prestigious university.
“As if.” I laugh and roll my eyes. “You only have those down south. I was into gymnastics when I was little, then YouTube was my dance teacher.”
“That was more than YouTube. They were some expert moves.” His eyes pierce me.
There’s something mesmerising about how certain he is that he’s right. Which annoyingly he is. “I was a cheerleader for the local football club at weekends. Beat working in McDonald’s.” Fuck, I didn’t mean to say that. Talk about basic bitch.
“A cheerleader? I’d love to see you in your uniform.” His eyes fix on mine, not even attempting to hide his desire. “You’re fascinating.”
I stifle a giggle, certain that I was not the type of cheerleader he’s imagining. I was the good girl who did it for the ‘sport’—“Sport?” Millie teased me once. “I thought it was just an entry route to pole-dancing.”
I didn’t meet the fans’ ideals of a cheerleader either, my mousy hair up in a bun, caring more about my stunt form than the screams from the crowd. The other girls always wanted to give me a make-over, and I always refused. They wouldn’t recognise me anymore, but they would approve of my raunchier aesthetic.
“There’s a university squad, you know?” Callum’s low voice brings me to the present, as his hand dips to the bottom of my back again, gently guiding me out of the marquee.
“Really? Here?” I can’t hide the excitement in my voice. “Wow, that’s…”
“Unexpected, right? All part of the drive to make this hallowed institution less intimidating, bring it into the twenty-first century.” He rolls his eyes, and I’m not quite sure what he’s mocking.
“Do you play any sports?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
He laughs, “Of course. Rugby, rowing, tennis.”
Interesting. I know he’s on the university team for rowing—a big deal for a twenty-year-old undergraduate as it’s usually filled with Olympic medalists studying an easy post-graduate course just to make the team. I’m surprised he didn’t boast about it.
“Maybe I’ll cheer at one of your games.” I make my voice playful, remembering I’m supposed to be seducing him.
He leans down to whisper in my ear. “I’d rather hear you scream my name when we’re alone together.”
Fuck, this guy is good. My breath catches as he pulls back and looks at me, really looks, like I’m a precious nymph.
“I’d have to know your name first.” I stammer.
A flicker of surprise lightens his eyes. “I’m Callum, and you are?”
“Faith.”
“Can I kiss you, Faith?” His eyes zero in on my lips.
No one’s ever asked permission to kiss me before. A few drunken fumbles are the height of my romantic experience to date. Losing my virginity because I wanted to lose it, and the guy wasn’t hideous.
I should say yes. Kissing Callum is part of my plan, I have him exactly where I want him. But I shouldn’t want to kiss him, he shouldn’t be making my body tremble like this is real.
“No,” I answer, enjoying watching the confusion alter his face. “I’m going to kiss you.” I step closer, so our faces are inches away from each other, lifting my hands up to cup his head. His hair is surprisingly soft under my touch, and his eyes flash with more tenderness than I expected. I move towards his mouth, pulled by intrigue, revenge and desire.
At the last moment he swoops forward too, our lips collide and I instantly jerk closer, pressing my body against him. His mouth massages mine, and shivers run through my entire body. I didn’t know kisses could feel like this; hard, deep and full of promise that this is only the beginning.
“Get a room,” a mocking male voice cuts through my bliss.
I pull away panting.
Callum looks similarly untethered. “Fuck off, Rafe,” he snarls at his friend over his shoulder. Then he looks back at me, rubbing the pad of his thumb over my throbbing lips. “Feisty Faith,” he murmurs. “Welcome to Westforde, I think you’ll like it here.”
I don’t answer him. I can’t, I’m too confused. Why the hell did his kiss feel that… special?
“Fancy continuing this conversation somewhere quieter?” He steps closer to me, boxing me in with his toned bulk. “We could go back to mine?”
3: Faith
“That sounds….” I bite my lip, smiling internally as he leans in towards me, hanging on my answer. This is exactly what I wanted—an invitation to his inner sanctum—and much sooner than I hoped. “Lots of fun.”
“Oh, it’ll be much more than fun.” His lips graze my ear and a shiver cascades through my body. “Mind-blowing, I’ve been told.”
Fuck, I need some space. This is what I want, but it’s moving so quickly. “I’m just going to the bathroom.” I’m already walking away from him. “See you by the front gate in five minutes?”
He nods, smiling like he always knew I’d say yes.
He’s right, but he doesn’t know the real reason why. Once I’m in his room, I can start looking for evidence about what he did to Millie. I can put up with anything for that.
I find an empty bathroom on the second floor and stare at myself in the mirror. My reflection is unchanged from when I headed downstairs two hours ago, but I feel totally altered. My entire body is shaky. Even though this was all my idea, and it’s all going completely to plan, it feels like I’m about to launch something bigger than me, something that I can’t control.
“This is for you, Millie.” I pull her charm necklace out from under my dress. It doesn’t go with my outfit, but it’s my talisman, my reminder of exactly why I’m doing this.
Callum might recognise it. The thought hits me as I’m tucking it back into its hiding place. My dress won’t be on all evening. I quickly unfasten it and zip it into my purse.
Oh God, there’s no turning back once we’ve left together. Part of me wants to run to the safety of my single bed and lock the entire world out.
This is for Millie. It calms me. I leave the bathroom and go back to face him.
He’s leaning on the wall by the gate, arms crossed, his t-shirt higher on his curving bicep, so I can make out the second letter of his tattoo as well: ‘MA’. Not a tattoo for Millie, something like relief flares inside of me. “I thought I’d scared you off for a second.” Callum smirks, wickedly. Is this him warning me I should be scared?
“Maybe I just surprised you by taking my own sweet time. Not every girl jumps as soon as you click your fingers.”
He grabs my hand, his touch making me jolt, and opens the small door built into the huge wooden gate that protects our college from the city outside. His body creates an arch as he holds the door open for me.
I hop through, making sure I brush against him as I do. I think I hear him breathe in sharply.
The quiet evening streets seem so different from the party inside. The few people walking in the cold, October chill are wrapped up in thick jackets, a complete contrast to the glitzy outfits within. I’ve joined the privileged elite, at least for a little while.
Callum grabs my hand, his fingers interlacing between mine and s
tarts walking away from college. “What makes you think girls jump for me?”
“You have quite the reputation. King Callum I’ve heard you called.”
“King Callum.” He laughs, but doesn’t sound surprised at the nickname. “For someone who just found out my name twenty minutes ago, you sure as hell seem to know a lot about me. Been asking around, have you?” There’s something about the cock of his head as he says this that makes it clear he doesn’t believe that I didn’t know who he was.
I pause. Cool. Calm. Irresistible. “Why do you think my bathroom break took so long?” I lie. “I always find it pays to do a little research, you never know what secrets are hiding under a handsome exterior.”
“Hmm, you think I’m good-looking?”
“Of course, I don’t kiss boys I don’t find attractive,” I quicken my pace, pulling ahead of him.
“I’m not a boy.” Callum jumps in front of me, then stops, pushing me against the wall of the building we’re passing. “You’re going to find that out tonight.” His hips press against me, the swelling in his trousers unmistakable.
Ugh, he’s such a slimeball. I can’t believe Millie let him get to her so easily. And yet… the way his sapphire eyes are staring down at my face, drinking me in, promising something is about to happen, I want to pull his lips to mine and demand he never stop kissing me.
“On the street?” I make sure my tone is unimpressed. I have to get to his house. I step away from him. “How classy.”
“Have high standards, do you?” He half scowls, but grabs my hand and starts walking again.
We don’t say anything as he navigates the streets. I’m too nervous about what I’ll have to do to get the freedom to explore his house. I don’t know why he’s so quiet. Maybe he’s the silent, brooding type.
“Here we are, home sweet home.” Callum pulls me up a steep set of stairs to a four-story Georgian terrace.
“Why don’t you stay in college dorms?” As soon as I ask, I realise it’s a pathetic question.
He turns and raises an eyebrow. “You’d pick a pokey, single room over this?” He waves his arm making it clear the building is still one house. Right in the centre of Oxford, it must be worth at least two million pounds.
I search for a witty response. “I like being close to the action.” And have no other choice.
“Oh, sweetheart, all the action you could ever want is here.” He stops with the key halfway in the lock and pins me against a wall again. This time his lips and his hips press against me. No, not press, grind.
My pulse accelerates as I kiss him back. He’s an avalanche I’m powerless to stop. This is exactly what you wanted to happen, I remind myself. But I didn’t expect to respond to him like this. I thought I’d have to force myself to kiss him, but it’s no chore to lose myself in his touch.
I wriggle out from underneath him. “I’m not going to have sex with you.” I tell him as we move inside his house. I wonder if he can hear the tremble in my voice, the way every cell in my body is telling me not to be such an idiot. If he was just some random hot guy who kissed me like that, I’d absolutely be planning to spend the entire night devouring him. But Callum isn’t a random stranger, I should be kissing him because I have to, to get closer to him, to find out the truth about Millie, not because I want to.
“Really?” He arches an eyebrow, leading me through a grand entrance hall to a sitting room with a grand piano gleaming in the middle. The contrast to my tiny room with its single bed and sink in the corner couldn’t be greater.
He gestures for me to sit down on an antique-looking, purple velvet couch, then joins me, his thigh sliding against mine and making like jolts of electricity ripple through me. “Why did you come home with me then?” He leans into me and lifts a single finger to my lip. “If it wasn’t for sex?”
I shudder as he brushes over my mouth, wishing I could take his finger, suck it. He moves down my neck, slowly, oh-so tantalisingly slowly. I stiffen as everything closes into the feel of his finger and the hungry glint in his eyes.
“To see if I might want to have sex with you one day,” my words come out more like a moan as his fingernail grazes my chest. I know I came here to find out about him, but all I can think about right now is his touch.
He stays above my clothing, but still my nipples harden into unmissable points. He presses one with his finger and heat floods my core. “I never take what I’m not offered.” He says the right words, but his finger continues dipping lower, crossing the gentle swell of my stomach, wandering to the curve of my hip.
I should run, before all my senses leave me, but I can’t just leave. Then I won’t find out anything about Millie. But if I give him all of me tonight, he’ll never invite me back.
“But you seem to want it so much…” His finger works down my leg, then breaches the hem of my skirt.
I stop breathing as he touches the bare skin of my thigh. Thank God we’re sitting down, because my legs are shaking too much to hold me up.
“I don’t sleep with men I barely know.” I stammer, willing him not to stop while wondering whether I should run off while I still have the willpower to.
“Hmm, interesting,” still his finger drifts higher. In a second he’ll be touching my soaked underwear, and I’m helpless to stop him. “What do you do with men you barely know then?”
I’m mute.
“I know you kiss.” He leans forward covering my mouth with his and driving his tongue into me with an intensity that’s almost overwhelming. I clutch his head and draw him closer, half hoping his kiss will cut off the arguments in my head.
Do it, every nerve in my body demands. If his kisses are this good, sex will be amazing.
You need to keep him begging for more, my brain argues back. If you sleep with him now, he might never invite you again.
His finger sweeps against my knickers. “So, so wet,” he murmurs into my lips.
“Am I?” I squeak, as his touch creeps under the elastic. I know I am, I’ve never felt this hot before.
“Yes, I need to feel you,” his voice is ragged. “Can I?” His finger stills against my burning heat.
I freeze, he doesn’t seem like the kind of man who’d wait for permission. Although it seems rather late to ask, we both know there’s no way I can just pull away now.
“Yes,” I sigh, wishing I didn’t want it so much. My hips loosen as I wait for his touch.
He grunts, a wordless sound that somehow manages to make me breathless with anticipation. Then he surprises me by moving his touch away from my opening. His hand sweeps away, finding my clit instead, hovering over it, not moving, and my insides briefly throb with loss.
“Why didn’t you—”
He silences me with his hard lips, then stares into my eyes. “I’m going to wait until you can’t last a moment longer.” His eyes twinkle with hunger and he starts massaging my clit, his eyes inches away from mine, watching as I sink into his expert touch.
It’s too intense, I can’t look at him any longer. I close my eyes and let my head fall on to the back of the sofa. I didn’t know anything could feel this good. I want to rip off my stupid dress and demand that he touches every inch of me.
Callum worships my body. His mouth works down my neck, biting, sucking, turning me inside out as his fingers gently circle my clit. His free hand yanks down the top of my dress, exposing my swollen breasts, and then his mouth moves to encircle my nipple.
“Mmm.” I melt underneath him, hotter than I’ve ever been in my life. This is so different from the awkward fumbling under sheets with the boy I lost my virginity to, that it barely feels like the same act. I stroke my hands all over his body, wondering how he’s learnt all these magnificent moves. Is this why Millie couldn’t let him go? Will I become as addicted? I force the thought from my mind. I’m in control.
Then he disappears.
My eyes fly open as his touch tickles my thigh. He’s moved to kneeling on the floor between my legs.
His finger
s hook around my underwear, and I instinctively lift my hips, letting him tug it down off my legs.
My exposed pussy is burning hot, only my flouncy skirt separating my most private area from the dangerous hunk between my legs. More wetness seeps out of me.
“I can’t wait to taste you,” Callum murmurs as he flips up my skirt then bends towards my centre.
Taste me? I stiffen and try to squirm away. “I don’t like that.” I remember the guy I slept with lapping at me and how awkward I felt.
Callum answers as if he hasn’t heard me. “Relax, you’re beautiful.”
“But…” I start to argue then study his face again, the unmistakable wonder on it. He’ll be a million times better than the last time. I’ve read all the newspaper articles about him famous women up to ten years his senior, the stories that imply he inherited a lot more than his father’s famous blue eyes: his famous prowess in bed too. I let my thighs go slack.
“Trust me, just tell me to stop if you’re not enjoying it.” He bends towards me as he answers, his breath hot on my inner thigh. Then his tongue darts out, tracing a circle on my leg and every thought evaporates from my head.
“Okay,” I stammer.
“I think you’ll enjoy it, though,” he murmurs, his fingers spreading out my sex.
I throb under his touch, waiting for the contact I’m dreading and longing for. I’m engorged, more turned on than I’ve ever been in my life. Everything has narrowed down to just my body and Callum worshipping it. It’s like I’m losing my grip on myself and why I’m really here, but I can’t pull back, I need him to touch me.
Then it comes, his tongue, soft and wet tracing a line from my clit to my dripping core and back again. A hot, hungry line that unbundles me. I spread my legs, needing more.
He does it again, harder this time, then sucks on my clit. His finger teases my opening, I can feel my moisture gathering on him.