Really?
Carefully lining up how he wanted the leather to lay, he dropped the heavy belt and it’s silver buckle onto her belly. Cal nodded approvingly when one end curved across her mound and slid between her open thighs. She immediately moved her hips and dug her heels into the mattress.
Cal moved lower, grabbed her ankles in the soft suede boots and shoved them closer to her bottom so her legs were forced open further.
“Yeah, I like that,” he ground out before lowering his face between her thighs and inhaling deeply. Knowing language could be a deal maker or breaker he tested to see where her boundary really was.
“‘tessa,” he groaned appreciatively. “Your pussy is so sweet and beautiful.” He tugged some of the soft curls and inhaled again. “I love the way you smell.”
She moaned. He asked, “Are you ready for more?”
“Yes, Caleb,” she answered. In that simple moment, he knew for certain they’d transcended the whole identity conundrum. They could be both with each other.
Dragging the leather slowly, the long belt slithered along her skin. He dropped it to the floor with a thud. “For my sexy wild child artist,” he mumbled before taking a paintbrush with a teardrop of soft bristles and brushing it lightly on her face. Painting her, Cal tickled her nose, traced her mouth, ran it across her lips and made sweeping strokes on her cheeks.
She was breathing erratically and pulling at the restraints.
Swirling on her chin a few times, he continued painting with long deliberate strokes. Her neck. Side to side across her collarbone. He teased her armpits until she begged him to stop. Her breasts were next. And then her navel—lower still to the matching sweet spots on each side of her lower abdomen. He brushed soft teasing strokes on the inside of her thighs. She was trembling like crazy.
And then he got up close and personal with the pussy he’d praised. With her legs spread and feet planted on the mattress, he had a clear shot at the heart of her.
“Look what I found,” he murmured, while touching the nub of her desire with the soft brush. She jerked and then her thighs opened wider. “Did you say something, Tesoro,” he asked silkily.
She was moaning non-stop and he couldn’t help but smile—especially since he had the most fucking fantastic front row seat. He was a guy. His dick got hard. Period. But ‘tessa’s arousal? Holy shit. Not only was her clitoris swelling, the increased blood flow added a deep flush to her genitalia. A tiny trickle of fluid leaked from her pussy.
He was witnessing primal perfection. This was what he was going for. Engulf her senses with pleasure. Keep her off balance with just enough physical pain to make things interesting. Hey, he thought. You can’t understand how much pleasure you’re capable of without some agony to compare it to.
Kissing the delicate nub with a soft lick, he had to pull back for a minute and get some damn control. Words. Yeah. He needed to say some words.
“More?” Okay. One word. That was all he had.
“Caleb…” Her beautiful shudders were a sight to behold.
“Yes baby?” He flattened his hands and ran them from her neck to her hip bones and back up again. Loosely grasping her neck, he nipped her chin.
Cry? Whimper? Moan? All three. “I … I need you.”
Oh, he just bet she did. Needed him to take away the ache. But she wasn’t there, yet.
“Not yet.” He blew his breath onto her chest and watched her squirm. “Tell me again how sorry you are for denying me.”
A gasped half groan rumbled from her. If he thought she’d be meek or mild he could fucking forget that notion ‘cause she answered the only way his ‘tessa ever would. With her heart.
“We denied each other.”
She had him there. Fuck. They’d been so stupid.
“And you’ll get to extract your preferred method of penitence for my transgression … later. Although, I think gargling with my dick was enough, but I understand if there’s more groveling to be done. I’m fine with it, ‘tessa.”
“You don’t play fair.”
Cal snickered—jostled one of the restraints and bent over, close to her ear. “Appearances to the contrary, Tesoro but I’m playing as fair as I can when you’re holding a deck stacked against me.”
“Oh fine. My bad. Okay?”
“So is that you asking for more or being a bitch?”
“Can’t it be both?” she stated with passion.
He grinned. This one was a handful. Ten seconds before she’d been melting down. Now? Even with her hands tied and a blindfold, she had no problem getting snippy. Time for some fun.
He spoke quietly while pulling on a pair of old driving gloves. Constructed of a stretchy fabric, they had special finger grips, patches and reinforced webbing. He was breathing harder now. Something about touching her body with them excited him.
“I like you’re inner bitch.” He was distracting her with words while setting up the next sensation. “She wants very much to be spanked. Hard.” She inhaled sharply. “And often.”
Her legs shook and she started to move out of the position he’d put her in.
“No wiggling. Remember? You don’t want to end up being hurt accidentally.” He was so totally fucking with her.
“Chin up,” he commanded. “Keep those legs spread.”
The first thing he did was wrap his gloved hands around her neck. “Now, this,” he murmured huskily. “This is the best ride. Better than any car.”
He caressed every inch of her neck, shoulders and collarbone. It felt strange to be handling her flesh with the gloves, but she was writhing in seconds and he was enjoying the visual. No single inch of her body that he could get to was ignored. Massaging handfuls of her inner thighs almost killed him, though.
Tearing off the gloves, he took a clothespin and used it to hold a chunk of ice. He’d really thought this one through. In his fingers, it’d melt too fast. After the abrasive gloves, she was more than receptive to the ice torture he subjected her to. It seemed unfair to rub a jagged lump on her clit, but he was past caring. She jumped. He put a hand against her stomach and held her down.
Watching intently as the heat from her body melted the ice, droplets of water clung to her curls, dripped down her slit and wet the bed. When the chunk was quite small, he removed the clothespin and gently inserted the icy nodule inside her.
Grabbing another clothespin, he tweaked her sexy nipples and applied the gentle bite of a pin to each.
What a fucking sight. Tied, blindfolded, nipples clamped, legs spread, ice dripping from her pussy and those thigh high boots framing it all so perfectly.
One last thing. Holding the stem of a cherry, he teased her mouth with it until her tongue finally angled the juicy fruit enough that she bit it.
“Unf.” She licked her lips and smiled. “Again?”
He let her have two more, then began teasing her engorged nipples with the juicy fruit. Same for her clit.
Out of nowhere he started singing Cherry Pie. Her moans sang harmony. When he crooned how sweet she tasted and that it made him wanna cry, he meant it.
If he hadn’t been working off a plan he might have devoured her pussy but they were both at their limits and he still had one more thing in his bag of tricks.
His cock.
Gentling easing her legs out straight, Cal trailed his fingers up her legs. When each clothespin was snapped off, he immediately sucked the nipple into his mouth to ease the sting. It was a shame to untie her but he did. And finally, the blindfold came off.
He stood by the side of the bed. She rubbed her wrists and blinked a couple of times. Finding his eyes in the dim light, she watched but said nothing.
He slid out of his jeans. Her eyes immediately fixed on his swollen cock. She seemed, transfixed. So he loomed over her and leisurely stroked his flesh.
“Now, baby girl. We make love. Slowly. Deeply. My cock wants to fill you up. Make you come. Hard.”
She looked him in the eye.
“No more fuckin
g around Charlize. This,” he gestured to her with his hand. “This is what I want. You. Wet. Aching. Desperate. I want your moans, your cries. I want your tongue in my mouth and your hands in my hair. I want your legs around my waist and that beautiful pussy meeting my cock stroke for stroke.”
Her eyes dilated, turned smoky.
“And when you come, I’m going to whisper in your ear.”
That’s all he said. It was enough.
He climbed onto the bed; she spread her legs and welcomed him without reservation. Kissing her with all the passion he had, Cal readied her for his possession. Rubbing his hardness up and down her slit until he was covered with her juices, he ruthlessly massaged the head of his cock to her nub.
With one hand beneath her ass, holding her firmly in place and the other gripping her head as he ravished her mouth, Cal teased the entrance to her body until they both moaned and shook. And then he sank home. Slowly. So slowly he forgot to breath, that’s how spectacular it felt as he slid deep, deeper.
She held onto her shit for less than a minute and then broke free. Grinding against him, her legs gripped his hips, her hands clutched at his hair and she began to buck wildly. Cal let her have the first orgasm without any effort on his part. He just enjoyed the ride. Her pussy clenched. She keened softly, frantic for his kiss. He pressed deep and rolled his hips. She went off like a controlled explosion, milking his cock, shaking all over, and moaning through an endless climax he felt along the entire length of his shaft.
Cal didn’t wait for her to come back. Doubling down, he did exactly what he said. He made love to her. Slow. Deep. She gushed with desire and hunger. More. Her body begged for more. He gave her all he had.
He whispered to her. Sexy things. Lewd things. Telling her with his body and his words how he felt.
As another orgasm built inside her, he paced himself so the ecstasy would claim them at the same time. She got desperate. He tamed her with the heavy thud of his cock pounding into her body.
She tightened and he knew the moment was upon them. This time when he came, it would be a climax like no other.
He growled and asked if she could feel how deep he was inside her. She whimpered and held him tighter. And at the precise moment she came undone, he whispered next to her ear, “I’m falling in love with you Charlize Baron-Wilde.” And with that, he emptied inside her, grunting from the effort and exquisite pleasure.
He’d never said those words before to anyone.
BOY, SHE LOVED BRYNN’S NEW, modern utility room. The closet laundry she shared at her last tiny flat was awful. Most of the time she’d hand washed what she could because actual washing machine time was a joke.
But this space? Wow. Jax and his crew created a unique washer-dryer set-up with a deep utility tub, long counters, and tons of upper and lower cabinets. There was even a built-in drying rack.
For Charlie, the best part was the crafting area with desk drawers and fantastic natural light from the windows. That’s where she was now, parked at the worktable while she waited for her laundry to finish. Trying not to make a huge mess, she was finishing a pen & ink drawing with watercolor accents. It helped her focus—doing something creative. Great landing zone while her thoughts lifted off and blew every which way.
The current tally as it stands right now, she thought. Last few days the newlyweds started making return noises; Rhiann was out of a job, free-falling and radio silent. Her parents managed to find more creative ways to drive her crazy; Nana stepped up her efforts to lure Charlie to the City of Brotherly Love and to complicate things just that much more, she’d hit a stupid glitch in the matter of wrapping up her degree.
Did she care about any of it? Barely.
But Caleb? Him she cared about morning noon and night. He’d told her he was falling in love. What did that mean? Though she didn’t say anything back, Charlie barely managed a sensible thought ever since.
They were playing house. It was the only way to explain their antics. Every night after work, he came to the big house for dinner. A dinner she spent hours planning, shopping for and preparing. She met him at the door in a cute dress, with drinks at the ready.
Genuinely interested in his day, she’d curl up on his lap, sipping a martini while he shared every detail of his efforts to finalize the business operation plan he, Jax and their dad agreed on.
She offered to create a logo. Something dignified and manly, he’d requested. None of that swirly font bullshit she designed for the Bakery and Tea Room.
Then, she’d feed him like a boss. Charlie wanted a goddamn medal for the variety and complexity of the meals she whipped up. One of his favorites by far was a beef wellington so tender and delicious she took the extraordinary step of snapping a food-selfie that she promptly shared with Nana. After all, it was her recipe—written on a scrap of monogrammed vellum that felt half a century old.
He always helped clean up. Doing the dishes became a favorite activity. Especially when he ground into her ass from behind as she labored over the sink.
Each night, after the dishes were done and everything was in order, they’d gather up some toys, grab whatever filled the dessert bill and they would walk hand-in-hand to the studio. An unspoken rule overshadowed the intimate part of their relationship. Not in the big house.
A comfortable synchronicity built between them. She spent as much time planning their playtime as making dinner. And by playtime, she didn’t mean anything sexual. Falling into an easy pattern, not at all unlike their time together in Rome, they hung out. Talked. Played games, laughed, relaxed.
She beat him hardcore playing Go Fish and Old Maids. He’d triumphed at strip poker, something she was never going to live down. They played with the kinetic sand he liked so much, made tiny animals from clay and did a bunch of cheap paint-by-number kits she bought off Amazon.
The snow was forgotten, but it was mud and yuck season, so outdoor time was a stretch. Instead, they played Twister, danced and cavorted like kids using Brynn’s Wii. He roared when she explained that her oldest sister had a serious gaming habit. After that, he made her ball up and learn how to navigate Grand Theft Auto and some Call of Duty game she would never fully understand.
Sometimes they watched TV but cuddling on the sofa inevitably led to them missing whatever was on, so not a lot of that went on.
Their evenings ended the same way. On her back in his bed. Or bent over his drafting table. Or riding him on a fainting couch she had moved from the basement of the big house into the loft.
He always wanted her to spend the night, and occasionally she did, but generally he walked her home and kissed her at the door just like any dating couple.
They didn’t bother at all to hide what was going on. Everybody knew. Jonas knew, so did the guys he managed. Amy certainly knew, the other folks working in Brynn’s business knew. That they were lovers was not exactly a secret.
But she still hadn’t admitted anything to her sisters, and she wasn’t sure what Caleb shared with Jax. Being a relationship newbie put her at a disadvantage. What were they doing? Was all this normal? Was it too soon to talk about feelings and futures and stuff like that?
Charlie put the brush down and sat back. God. She just didn’t know. Sometimes she felt like everything was happening way too fast. But if they were getting out ahead of themselves, how come it felt so right?
The dryer dinged to let her know it was finished. Actually, ding was the wrong word. It played a little song. What’s the world coming to? She laughed at the absurdity of it then immediately wondered if it was possible to program a personalized tune.
Wheeling over to the dryer, Charlie laughed out loud. The long rectangular room was perfect for scooting around on the rolling chair she used at the worktable. Breaking to a stop with her Chuck’s squeaking from the effort, the dryer was quickly emptied and laundry folded—all from her chair.
“You have a domestic side, Charlize.”
She nearly jumped out of her skin. How did he manage to sneak up on
her like that without any sound whatsoever?
“Laundry doesn’t do itself, y’know.”
He chuckled. “It did when I had a housekeeper.”
With mock outrage, she looked him over and smirked. “Did you just have the balls to call me a housekeeper?”
In a comical pantomime, he covered his crotch with both hands and shook his head no.
Her smile at his antics was genuine. So was the way she felt. He took the laundry out of her hands, pulled her from the chair and kissed her soundly. They sat side by side on the worktable and he showed her his phone.
“I have to drive into Philly. Take a look at this,” he said. “Saw it on a guy’s website. He repurposes stuff. Barn walls into sliding doors and wood pallets into furniture. Great stuff.”
She took the phone and studied the picture. Wow. “Is that a buffet cabinet?”
“It was. Now it’s a changing table. See this molding he put around the top? Safety first. There are two big drawers and a cabinet on each side for baby supplies. It’ll fit perfectly in the nursery alcove with enough room to spare for a diaper bucket and a trash can.”
“It’s awesome,” she assured him with a smile. “Brynn will love it.”
“It’ll be easy for me or Jax to adjust the height. Since she went with a shabby kitschy theme, this just seemed perfect. And when it’s finished being a changing table, it can be used for other things.”
“So, you have to go today? To Philly?” She handed him the phone and he closed the screen and dropped it onto the table.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “Couple of hours. No big. I still wanna crank up the grill tonight so this trip’ll be a quickie.”
Charlie giggled. “Speaking of quickies,” she purred as her hand caressed his thigh and slid toward an ever-present bulge.
“Seriously, Ms. Wilde? In the laundry room? Have you no shame, woman?”
Cackling with laughter, she made it near impossible for him to refuse. Not when her hand started undoing his belt. “All shame checked at the door, Mr. Merrill. Along with my panties.”
Wilde Magic (Wilde Women Book 3) Page 36
