where he hit, slipping into subspace like a soft, warm bed. Its endorphin-high glaze cocooned me, swallowed me whole.
I didn’t notice Callum take up a paddle, not until it landed hard on my ass. I arched my back, wheezing out my breath.
“Yes,” he barked. “Fucking take it.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
Callum Jackson was brutal with the paddle in his hand, but he was polished. Way more so than I’d expected. He read me with surprising ease, aware of the arc of pain as it crested and eased. He kept me on the edge, until my breathing was frantic and my skin was raw, and then finally, he cast the paddle aside and pressed the weight of his body tight onto mine. His t-shirt sailed across the bench, the heat of his chest so nice against my back. I wriggled underneath him, spreading my legs without reservation.
“Fuck me,” I hissed. “Please, Callum.”
I felt him shake out of his jeans, relieved to feel the swell of his cock against my burning skin. “Gonna take you in the ass,” he grunted. “Gonna take you fucking hard.”
My stomach lurched, nervous of the intrusion, and I was right to be. He spat on his hand to lube me up, but it was fucking tight. I squirmed under him, letting out a yelp as he pressed the head of his cock inside.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned. “You’re gonna milk my fucking cock dry.”
“Do it,” I rasped. “Make it hurt, I don’t care.”
“I hope you fucking bleed.”
I was pretty damn sure I would. It hurt like fuck, a searing pain right the way through me as he forced his entry.
“Do it!” I screeched. “Fuck me, Callum, just fuck me!”
He hissed and spluttered and ground his hips against my ass. Then he fucked me. Hard. It hurt so fucking bad, but it felt so fucking good.
“You wanted this,” he groaned. “You fucking wanted this.”
I had no breath, no words. Just pain. Glorious fucking pain.
“Gonna come in your dirty fucking hole,” he grunted. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.”
He wrapped his hand around my thigh, thumb circling my clit as his cock jerked in my ass. It was enough. Enough to send me tumbling, exploding in beautiful release. My knees went from under me, and only his weight kept me from falling. He pulled out slowly, hands under my thighs to support me as I found my feet.
He spread my ass cheeks, grunting at the view.
“I can see inside you,” he growled. His fingers stretched me open, straining bruised flesh. “Your arsehole is fucking ruined, you’re gaping so fucking wide.”
“It’s fucking sore. I’ll be walking with a limp for a fucking month.”
He let me go, and I rose slowly, flinching at the pain. His eyes were on mine as I turned around, softer this time.
“You alright, Soph?”
I nodded. “I’m great.”
“Sure?”
“Deadly.”
“What d’you wanna do now?” he asked, reaching for his t-shirt. I stroked his chest before he covered it from view, but he didn’t allow me long. His mood had changed, I could feel it, feel the shutters coming down.
“Go home,” I said. “Sleep. Rest my poor battered asshole.”
“You need a lie down? You know... aftercare and shit?”
I smiled. “I’m fine, thank you. Nice thought, though.”
He shuffled on the spot. “Ain’t no good with this small talk shit, dunno what to say.”
I reached for his hand, stroking his knuckles with my thumb. “You don’t need to say anything. Just don’t leave.”
“Ain’t going nowhere,” he smiled. “Not if you don’t want me to.”
My stomach did the dance again, the one packed with butterflies on speed. I didn’t want Callum Jackson to go anywhere.
***
Chapter Ten
Sophie
I squeezed Callum’s thigh, but he didn’t respond, staring blankly out the taxi window at the city lights. When the car turned onto East Veil he pulled his hood up, wrapped himself that little bit tighter.
“My stop,” he said. “Thanks for the ride and... you know.”
The driver pulled up on a side street by the East Veil subway, and Callum slipped away without any more words, raising his hand only briefly before disappearing into the night. He moved quickly, like an alley cat, keeping close to the shadows of the buildings with his head down low.
“Canary Wharf, Miss?”
I met the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror. Willed myself to say yes.
“Follow him please. Catch him up.”
Shit.
We caught up with Callum Jackson as he crossed the street by the old retail units. I wound down the window, beckoning him over.
He leaned down, his face right next to mine. “What