met anyone like him. He doesn’t have the same filters that I have, doesn’t have the same massive list of shit he feels he can and can’t do. He doesn’t second guess himself, and sure as hell isn’t worried what everyone thinks of him, or how he looks, or how he appears on social media. He’s refreshingly unrestrained.”
“And...” she prompted.
“And he’s wild, and raw, and aggressive... he’ll take what he wants, when he wants it. He doesn’t live in fear of convention. He doesn’t hold back.”
She smiled. “And...”
I sighed. “More?”
“Keep rolling, baby.”
“And he’s deep. He’s a beautiful tragedy. A beautiful savage. The way he looks at the world, the way he paints... the way he loves.”
“Now who’s poetic?”
I whacked her with a cushion. “Told you I was fucking crazy.”
“You’re not crazy, baby. You’re in love.”
“That is fucking crazy, Bex. How can it ever work?”
She sighed, putting her glass down. “Please don’t take this where I think it’s headed.”
“My job... my family...”
“Can all get stuffed,” she cut in. “You either love him, or you don’t, but make that decision for yourself, not for anyone else. The kid’s got some issues, but he’s a good kid, Sophie. Don’t kick him to the kerb for the sake of lousy bloody convention, you’re fucking better than that.”
I really hoped so.
***
I sat bolt upright in bed, heart thumping. My ears strained, battling through the clouds in my muggy, alcohol-impaired brain. Casey was growling in the darkness, staring out into the space beyond the door.
I sighed in relief when I heard the knocking. Casey’s tail brushed my arm, wagging like crazy, and her growls changed to whines as I padded to the doorway.
“Callum?”
“Yeah.”
I opened the door, glancing at the oven clock. “Jeez, it’s gone four a.m.”
He brushed past, brooding, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Aside from saying hello to Casey he didn’t utter a word, just pressed up against the doorway, staring. I could feel his eyes on me, gorgeous and feral. An old cotton nightshirt really hadn’t been the most flattering choice of sleeping attire, but I hadn’t been expecting him. I wrapped my arms around myself.
“What happened?”
He shook his head. Shrugged.
“You walked over from East Veil?”
“Yeah.”
“Christ.” I flicked the kitchen light on. “Want a coffee?”
No response.
“Wasn’t expecting this,” I said, filling the kettle. “I thought you were staying at Vicki’s. I expected...”
I squealed as he slammed up behind, forcing me forward until I bashed into the running tap, cold water spraying over my shirt. The cotton clung like a second skin, cold and slick to my breasts as Callum’s hot breath stroked my ear. The shock broke through my wine coma, and I was wide awake, heart quickening.
“Need you.” His words were just a grunted whisper. “Now.”
This was the animal Callum, the savage who gave me shivers, the man who made my pussy ache on sight. I dropped the kettle in the sink, using my hands as leverage to grind back against him. I could feel his hard on swelling through his jeans, pulsing against the crack of my ass.
His rough hands on my tits, twisting my nipples through the fabric.
The cramps in my stomach reminded me of an unfortunate truth.
“Fuck, Callum,” I groaned. “I can’t.”
He wasn’t deterred, grabbing at my tits without restraint.
“Cal, stop. I’m on my period.”
He grunted, but still he persisted, reaching down to claw at the hem of my nightdress. He yanked it over my head before I could object. I cringed at the reality of him seeing my period panties. I tried to move from his grip but he was having none of it.
“Need you,” he growled. “Don’t fucking care.”
I cared. I cared a lot. I shifted against him, fighting my own desperation for his cock. His fingers pressed into the padding between my legs, hunting for my clit.
“Shit, Callum...”
“Gonna take you,” he said. “Don’t fight me.”
My throat let out a pitiful squeak of self-consciousness as his thumb hooked inside the waist of my panties. I trembled against him, hating myself for not fighting harder. I moaned out in defeat as his fingers slid between my thighs.“
“Fuck,” he said. “Feels so nice.”
Yes it did, he wasn’t fucking lying. He dropped to a crouch, low enough to slide the fabric down around my hips. My underwear dropped to the floor, and I was naked and exposed.
“Gonna fuck you,” he hissed.
Two fingers inside me made me groan like a whore. “Yes...”