Callum’s Hell

by Mason, V. F.

  I raise my hand to give him back the hat, but he shakes his head. “That’s for you, a souvenir.”

  “Oh.” I straighten and extend my hand. “Thank you and nice to meet you, Vic.”

  He smiles wide and is about to shake it when he blinks. Then he hooks his thumbs in the pockets of his pants and calls over my shoulder, even though I don’t have to guess who’s there by the heat radiating behind me. “Callum, long time no see.”

  His rich, deep, husky voice washes over me like spider’s silk, creating a web around my mind. “Vic.” His hand wraps around my waist and hugs me closer to his side, while a surprised gasp slips past my lips. “Nice dance routine,” he compliments, although in this case, it sounds more like an accusation, and his hold on me tightens, not too painful but so firm I won’t be able to escape him, even if I want to.

  Vic looks at Callum’s hand, then at me, then back at the hand, and bows. “I’ll leave you at that. Mia has a performance soon.”

  He is about to go, when Callum snags the hat from my head. “Vic.” The guy stops, half turning, and Callum throws it at him. “You forgot that. She doesn’t need it.” Steel laces his tone, and I don’t get why. What’s so bad about the hat?

  “Okay.” He puts it on and, with a salute, rushes behind the stage while I’m standing shocked out of my mind.

  Then I blink, and the situation dawns on me. I unlock his hold on me and face him. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Making sure he doesn’t think he has a shot with you.”

  “What?” How ridiculous is this?

  “Vic is a manager here.” My brows furrow at this. “He dances, because he likes it. And whenever he gives a hat, it means the woman is claimed for the night.” He taps on my nose. “And no one will think you are his, my wild orchid.”

  Boys and their toys.

  “All of you need to grow up, you know that? And I’m not yours.”

  His fingers lift my chin, and he steps closer, eliminating the distance between us, his stare on me. “No? Why then did you come?”

  Gazing into his eyes, the music and everyone else cease to exist, because all I can feel is the energy swirling around us like a wave that’s about to crash into us hard, and I have no clue what to do with it.

  I know what I should feel.

  Fear, because this guy acts so weird. Shows up out of nowhere, woos me in his strange manner, and stakes claims he has no business staking.

  But the fear is absent. Instead, curiosity and desire are present, demanding an outcome.

  Is it so bad to succumb to this just once? To experience the attention of such a man like Callum MacRae?

  In my life, I’ve always gone for the safe ones, so they will never be able to control me. After Grandfather’s ordeal, being at someone else’s mercy scared me.

  However, Callum’s attention is different. It’s thrilling, because never in my life has anyone put me as their single focus. How controlling could he be for one night anyway?

  I’ve heard rumors about it; women didn’t stay long in his life. One and done, according to all the articles, not that women often spoke about him.

  So once he gets what he wants… he’ll get bored.

  And I can go back to my existence where chaos and hectic emotions don’t exist.

  For now though… I can grab this opportunity with both my hands and enjoy it to the fullest.

  “Not that this conversation is not hilarious as fuck,” Isla says, and we both glance at her, because the table is only two steps away from us. “But the show is about to start. So I’d appreciate if you both shut up.” She grins at Callum. “Nice to meet you. By the way, I know how to use a gun. So if you hurt my friend, you are a dead man.”

  With that, she spins back to the stage, sipping her beer, while Callum chuckles next to me, shaking his head. “Good luck, Octavius.”

  I have no clue who that is, nor do I care.

  Isla is right though; I can’t stand here and argue; some people already stare at us, albeit subtly from under their glasses.

  Callum though takes all my choices away when he laces his hand with mine and drags me toward the exit.

  I tug on my wrist, but it’s useless as he continues to power through the hallway, our shoes clicking on marble and echoing through the space. “I have something more interesting to show you.” He stops when I halt and tug again, and then he presses me against his chest. “A beautiful garden.” Callum grabs my hands and removes the lacy gloves, tossing them aside to my gasp.

  He lets go of me and then splays his palm open. “Make a choice now, Giselle. Do you want to go with me or not?” he asks, whispering above me while we share a breath.

  Choice.

  I made the choice before I came here though. Good or bad, I want to explore it and ride on the wave.

  For once, I want to do something without thinking about consequences.

  So with my rapidly beating heart, I place my hand in his, making my decision.

  And sealing my fate forever.

  Chapter Eleven

  Giselle

  “This is an apartment building,” I say, tilting my head back as I get out of the car and study the magnificent skyscraper in front of me. Its silver color flashes in the night, soaking up the beauty as thousands of lights from various windows light it up.

  The doorman stands by the swirling doors, greeting us. “Mr. MacRae, you’re back.”

  So he must live here. My brows furrow at this, and sudden realization hits me.

  Does this mean…?

  Callum taps on my nose and brings my attention back to him. I see the corners of his mouth lifting up while amusement flashes in his eyes. “Don’t worry, darling.” He leans closer, whispering in my ear, “No one is gonna ravish you tonight.” A beat, and then, “Unless you beg for it.”

  A hot flash zips through me, awakening my body to spiraling sensations. “This is so….” I’m trying to find words, but he doesn’t let me.

  Instead, he ushers me to the door, winking. “Relax, Giselle. Let me show you the beautiful garden as I promised.” He drags me all the way to the elevator and presses the P button.

  My brows lift. “I should have guessed it’s a penthouse.”

  He leans against the wall, shrugging. “Nothing but the best.”

  We grow silent after that while I contemplate his words all the way up, my ears buzzing a little since we are moving so fast and high.

  Nothing but the best. It sounds so arrogant, but he says it in a way like it’s his given right, and oddly enough, it’s not cocky. More like a fact.

  The elevator dzings, the door opens, and we enter the penthouse. While my eyes drink in the interior curiously, excitement builds inside me from the prospect of studying Callum’s place, which will allow me to know him better.

  He is such an enigma on most days.

  To my disappointment, it doesn’t have much besides a black leather couch, two chairs, and a rectangular table in the middle of it all, with a pile of newspapers stacked on it. A huge TV is located opposite it with a remote lying close by on the table.

  The kitchen and a bar are several feet away on the right side with an arc-like wall, allowing one to see what’s going on in the living room. There are some plates, but it’s so squeaky clean I’m sure no one’s ever cooked in here.

  The bar, on the other hand, has several half-drunk bottles, most of them expensive brands of whiskey and vodka. A thrill rushes through me when I don’t see wine, the drink most women prefer.

  Are you insane, Giselle?

  First of all, this statement has no merit, and second, who cares? It’s not like I’m looking for commitment—a one-night stand at best. Pure lust bordering on insane attraction I’ve never felt before in my life.

  The penthouse has a hallway leading to other rooms, I assume, based on how spacious it is.

  All in all, the place seems cold… and detached, if that’s the right word to use here.

  But then why would it be homey if h
e lives in Houston?

  “Giselle?” Tearing my gaze away from the darkened hallway, I glance back at Callum, who is standing near the terrace doors, motioning with his head. “Let’s go.” He pulls the doors open, the light breeze slipping in and cooling my heated skin.

  I quickly reach his side, sliding outside, and gasp when I take in the rooftop.

  Oh, my.

  Maybe the interior of the apartment is lackluster at best… but the rooftop?

  It’s sheer beauty with a cherry on top.

  Countless pots with flowers of different shapes and sizes are spread on the roof in different locations, creating a colorful sanctuary with the most divine of smells. As I glance around, I see unique plant designs engraved on the wall above and around the terrace doors. The floor is covered with dark brown wood, giving the space a warm feel.

  Walking farther, I notice a secluded area with a gazebo decorated with a shield above it and a round lounge under it, and more flowers surrounding it.

  Different shades of red orchids catch my eye, and I softly touch the petals, mesmerized by how fresh they are despite the weather.

  I glance at the sky, where thousands of stars and the bright moon shine. And since the roof has no lamps, the night sky is the only source of light, which casts the place in a kind of spell, giving it a mysterious vibe.

  “Oh my God!” I whisper and look at Callum. “How did you manage to do all this?”

  He drops his jacket on the lounge. “Like it?”

  “Like is not a strong enough word for it.” I twirl around, basking in the atmosphere of it all. “It’s… so enchanting, so… so… magical,” I finish, and then my cheeks heat up as I dart my gaze to him. “You must think I’m stupid.”

  An odd expression crosses his face, and his eyes are troubled, but it’s so quickly replaced with amusement and heat I must have imagined it. He scans me from head to toe, lingering on my lips before he meets my eyes. “I think you’re gorgeous.”

  Flushing under his stare, I turn my attention to the rooftop and gasp when I step closer, peering at the terrace wall. “Is it made out of glass?” I move even closer, and sure enough, the banister is so transparent one might not even notice it! It feels like one is walking in the air, easily possible to slam into it and fall!

  I grab the top of the railing and take a deep breath as I press my front against it. I sigh at the beauty of New York from this high.

  Shimmering light, people walking around, thousands of activities mixed with car horns echoing in the night… it all becomes a blur.

  The wind slams into me, and I gasp, deciding that’s enough bravery for tonight. Any longer now, and I’ll have a heart attack.

  Spinning around, I gasp in surprise when I bump into Callum’s strong chest, and he puts his hands on either side of me on the banister, caging me in. The wind is blowing my hair between us. “What are you doing?”

  “Afraid of heights?”

  A nervous laugh slips past my lips. “That’s one way to say it.” I look over my shoulder, swallowing hard when the height registers, especially with my back pressed to the banister.

  What if it freaking breaks?

  “Callum,” I say, placing my hand on his chest, and blink when I feel his heartbeat under my palm. “Can we go and sit under the gazebo?”

  “Are you afraid or not?” he asks again, shifting closer, and his hands come to rest on my hips, their heat burning my skin.

  “Why does it matter?”

  He leans forward, scratching my cheek with his five-o’clock shadow, before whispering into my ear, “Don’t you want to live dangerously?”

  “Says who?” I rasp, his presence confusing my senses while my body buzzes with excitement, remembering his touch from before.

  “Isn’t it the whole point of you coming with me? Trying something different?”

  Well, yes… but when he puts it like that… it sounds so dirty.

  Licking my dry lips, I ask, “Why did you buy me an orchid?”

  His hands trail to my waist, squeezing it lightly before he answers. “Because it’s what you like.”

  “You buy all your ladies such expensive gifts?” Even saying this sucks, because rational or not, I have no desire to think about him with other women.

  “Really? You’re going to bring the past into this already?” My eyes narrow, and he nips at my nose. “The answer is no. Orchids are only for my wild orchid.”

  Pleasure fills me, and I decide to give him the answer he seeks. “Yes, I’m afraid.” And isn’t it ironic that this phrase fits everything related to Callum too?

  I have a second to breathe before his hold on me tightens and he lifts me up. My loud yelp ricochets through the space as he sits me up on the banister and fear rushes through me. “Callum,” I shout as he steps between my legs, still holding me. “Let me down.” Oh my God, if I tilt just a little, I’m going to fall!

  Fisting his shirt, I bring him closer and sway back a little, but his hands are there to steady me. “You don’t have to be afraid, Giselle.” His hand travels up, lacing in my hair as he brings our mouths closer, nipping on my lips. “I’ll be there to catch you.”

  Oh my God, this man is insane.

  But why then does desire sink its claws into me?

  He bends me back a little, and I fist his shirt harder, holding on to him for dear life, and my legs wrap around his waist, needing extra anchoring. “How do you feel?” he prompts.

  “Terrified!” I hiss, but he smiles, biting on my lower lip and tugging on it before licking it, soothing the sting. “Feel the freedom,” he whispers, sliding to my cheek as he runs his lips over it. “The wind around you, no attachments, and the idea of falling any minute.”

  All those emotions crash into me, along with panic. “Is your plan to kill me?” I can’t even scream for help here!

  “Feel it,” he orders, biting my shoulder, and I gasp, closing my eyes and allowing the sensation of his words to wash over me.

  The wind, the freedom, the fear all tangled together in a mixture of emotions I don’t understand. But for the first time in my life, I’m so close to death it’s not even funny… yet I’m not as afraid as I should be.

  Maybe because this strong male has a firm grip on me and won’t ever let go; that’s a certainty inside me despite my better judgment.

  “Callum,” I say as need hits me so strong I wrap my legs tighter around him.

  “Ready to be mine, darling?” He doesn’t wait for an answer; instead, he locks his mouth with mine, pushing his tongue inside, and all the world fades away.

  The kiss is hot, deep, bruising, with so much heat I’m surprised we’re not burning. He is gliding his tongue inside me, owning my mouth like his favorite toy, while his dominant energy surrounds me.

  He lifts me up, twirling us, and then I feel him move as we continue kissing, and I don’t care where he takes us.

  Preferably somewhere I can rip this shirt off him and enjoy those rigid muscles awakening everything female in me.

  I feel him sit inside the gazebo, placing me on top of him, my knees bumping on the seat as he pulls at my hair and angles my head, continuing to drink from my mouth even though his lungs probably beg for oxygen just like mine do.

  His hands slide down to the hem of my short dress, lifting it up and giving me more room to wiggle, while mine unbutton his shirt as we kiss passionately, and it’s so raw I’m not sure it’s real.

  God, all the kisses I’ve had in my life pale in comparison. Is this what it’s like when the desire is built purely on physical attraction?

  Desire that has been building up for days but it feels like centuries as my body burns for his next touch, craving it with everything in me.

  I gasp, breathing in the fresh air, and then arch my back when his lips trail to my chin and neck, sucking on the skin on their way, as goose bumps break on my skin, sending ticklish sensations through me.

  His beard scratches my skin, but instead of wincing, I welcome it and circle his
neck, bringing him closer. “Callum,” I whimper when he yanks the front of my dress down, traveling to my collarbone and lightly licking it before biting on the mounds of my breasts.

  “Something you want, Giselle?” he asks, and I shift closer, my core pressing against his hard-on, and moan when I feel his thickness through the jeans. “How much do you love this dress?” His words barely register in my mind, when he adds, “Doesn’t matter. I’ll get you a new one.” And that’s all the warning I get before he grabs the lapels and tears it in one swift move. The silk gives easily under his assault and slides down to my hips, exposing me to him and the air breezing over my naked skin, as I have no bra on.

  I cover my breasts with my hands, leaning back and ready to protest, because despite being on the roof, what if there are people watching us?

  But his heated, dark brown eyes are filled with desire and burn me so much the words still in my throat, and instead with a moan, I aim for one more kiss where our teeth clash as our mouths fight for dominance.

  My fingers tangle in his hair and I wrap my legs around him, my heels digging into his back while the cloth of his shirt rubs my nipples, sending shivers down my spine.

  His hands dig into my hips, for sure bruising my skin—not that I care about it at the moment.

  He can leave all the marks he wants if it means bringing me pleasure in the most carnal of ways.

  And then a loud yelp erupts when he flips me over, my back hitting the gazebo’s cold surface, and I breathe heavily while Callum looms above me, the moonlight shining brightly behind him. Along with the stars in the night, it gives him a sinister look that should scare me… but instead, it deepens my need for him.

  “Gorgeous,” he murmurs, scanning my body while desire booms through me, and I arch a little, not wanting him to miss a thing.

  He growls, unbuttoning his shirt in record time and throwing it over his shoulder, and I blink, drinking in his perfectly carved six-pack that my mouth just itches to lick and suck. The need slams into me so hard I can’t breathe normally or resist it.