But could he now put himself in her hands—literally? Allow someone else—Callie—physical domination over him?
“Yes.” He breathed the air softly out of his lungs as the last of his resistance died.
Callie pressed her hand against his chest and twisted round slightly, and Lijah suddenly found himself the one lying flat on his back on the bed with Callie above him. Her knees were planted either side of his thighs as she lowered her breasts onto his chest and kissed him again. Long and languidly, as if she could continue those kisses all night.
Kissing was another intimacy Lijah had always thought was overrated. He just wanted the brief in-and-out sexual connection, the satisfaction of a mutual release, before moving on.
Kissing and being kissed by Callie was a delicious addiction that grew wild and out of control as their arousal heightened, sharpened to pure unadulterated intimacy. An intimacy so intense it couldn’t continue.
Lijah drew his breath in sharply as Callie broke the kiss, but only so she could slide down his body, tongue licking one of the tight buds on his chest. Awakening an arousal, a pleasure he hadn’t realized was possible until Callie put her lips, tongue, and teeth on him.
“Jesus, Callie!” he groaned, hips arching up as she sucked that bud into her mouth, teeth gently biting, before she lavished the same attention on its twin. She released his hands to move lower still.
She mirrored his own exploration of her body the night before, the moistness of her tongue dipping into his navel, soft and wet and then hardened to thrust in like a spear, and sending pleasure sparking to his balls before shooting the length of his cock.
Callie was making love to him.
Lijah tensed as she slid lower, kneeling between his thighs now, her gaze holding his as she took his cock in her hand before lowering her head and taking him into the wet enclosing heat of her mouth.
It felt as if his cock was wrapped in hot wet velvet as her tongue began to lave and stroke the length of him, her fingers tightening about and pumping the inches she couldn’t get into her mouth, even when she took him right to the back of her throat.
Lijah moaned softly, hips arching up as her hand cupped beneath his balls and she began to squeeze and stroke them in the same rhythm as her mouth claimed him, humming her satisfaction as she greedily licked and swallowed down the juices leaking from his cock.
Lijah felt his pleasure rising, spiking, and knew he was on the brink of spilling completely if he didn’t put a stop to this soon.
Soon.
Very soon.
Right now, it just felt so damned good to be in Callie’s mouth, having her heat and tongue claiming him, sucking him. He just wanted to stay here all night, wallowing in that pleasure and intimacy.
Callie was under no illusions that tonight meant any more to Lijah than any of his other sexual encounters. Maybe it was a little more intense, but that was only to be expected after all they’d gone through together.
For her, everything about Lijah, everything that had happened from the moment the two of them first met, had been drawing her to this moment in time. To this intimacy. This trust. This love?
They had an intense connection physically, but Callie wasn’t sure yet whether or not it could be called love. For either of them. Too much had happened in too short a space of time, too many emotions, for her to be sure of anything at the moment. Except this. The two of them together. Giving and receiving pleasure.
Lijah’s pre-cum tasted so delicious, salty and yet sweet and spicy at the same time, and more satisfying than the most expensive or finest champagne.
“I’m going to come if you don’t stop now,” he warned hoarsely.
She eased the intensity of her sucking, her hand gently cupping his sac as she slowly released him before sitting up.
Lijah lay sprawled on his back, completely exposed and vulnerable as the moon bathed him in silver light, his cock glistening with his own juices and her saliva as it bobbed up long and thick against his abdomen.
Callie touched that rigid length. “So hard and wet for me,” she murmured appreciatively, curling her fingers about him to once again place her legs either side of his thighs. Her other hand was resting on his chest when she rose up to take him inside her.
The top of his cock was broad and fat against her labia as she lowered down onto it, pushing those swollen lips apart, widening her, stretching her as she slowly lowered onto him fully, one pleasurable inch at a time.
She felt full of him, totally impaled as the top of his cock touched the entrance to her womb, the walls of her channel clenching tightly around the invasion as she rose up slowly, carefully, until only the head of his cock remained inside her, before slowly lowering again to take every inch of him back inside her.
His hands moved up to cup her breasts, her back arching into those hands as his fingers and thumbs held her nipples captive and he began to roll and squeeze them. Pulling on them, tugging on them harder still as Callie groaned with each tightening pull.
Exquisite pleasure.
Mind-blowing, total pleasure. A pleasure so intense, Callie could feel the rapid approach of her climax rolling over and through her. “Lijah!”
“Ride me, Callie,” he encouraged gruffly. “Ride me hard.” He thrust up long and forcefully inside her. “Harder!” he said fiercely.
They were both breathing hard, the smell of sex filling the air as Callie met and matched each of those faster, harder thrusts. Her climax was building, increasing, with each powerful claiming, her nipples hurting with pleasure pain now as Lijah pinched and rolled them between fingers and thumbs, milking them in long hard pulls that finally sent her careering over the edge into a long excruciating climax.
Lijah drew in a hissing breath as the walls of Callie’s channel tightened and then squeezed about his cock in fierce spasms as she began to climax. The force of that orgasm caused his balls to tighten as his own release shot up his cock, and he began to pump inside her in fierce hot jets.
“I’m on the pill,” Callie assured him as she lay on the dampness of his chest, Lijah still buried deep inside her. “Just in case you were worried.”
Lijah hadn’t been. He still wasn’t.
Which was totally irresponsible of him.
Irresponsible? It was fucking insane.
The last thing he wanted—that either of them wanted—was for Callie to become pregnant.
And yet he hadn’t given contraception a single thought, not when he first entered her nor when he continued to thrust up inside her and then poured all that hot cum into her.
Some of it was leaking out now past his slowly softening cock, sticky and viscous against Callie’s thighs. But even more of it remained inside her. He should disengage and ease her off him before going to the bathroom to collect a damp cloth and clean them both up.
He should. He was just too satiated and comfortable to want to move just yet.
He tensed as the cell phone on the bedside table buzzed twice and then rang off again.
Which was either Rory’s or Jonas’s way of telling him feeling satiated and comfortable wasn’t in his immediate future.
“What on earth…?” Callie raised her head to look up at him uncertainly. “It’s two o’clock in the morning!”
Yes, it was, and those two buzzes were an amber warning for the men who worked at Grayson Security that something was wrong.
He tensed again as the cell tone buzzed twice more and then rang off again.
Red warning.
Lijah reached out and pressed redial, knowing that the phone on the other end would vibrate—twice—rather than buzz or ring. Letting the other men know he had received the message but at the same time not alerting the enemy to the fact they were on to them.
The enemy in this case being Richard Stockton?
They definitely hadn’t been followed when they left the White House earlier, but that didn’t mean the other man hadn’t managed to learn of their whereabouts since then. Lijah had been outed toni
ght as being the Marquess of Stanford. How hard would it be to learn that the marquess was staying at Lucien Wynter’s house?
Those two phone calls were certainly an alert that security had been breached. In the circumstances, it was too much of a coincidence for it not to have something to do with the other man.
“Lijah…?” Callie half protested as he lifted her off him none too gently before rolling to the edge of the bed and getting quickly to his feet. “Lijah, what did those two phone calls mean?” She came more fully awake as he hastily pulled on a T-shirt, jeans, and shoes before crossing the room to look out the window through narrowed lids.
His expression was one of grim intensity as he stared out into the garden. “Don’t turn on any lights, stay away from the window, and lock the bedroom door behind me when I leave. Don’t open it again for anyone but me.”
Her eyes widened in alarm. “He’s here, isn’t he?”
“Maybe,” Lijah allowed as he turned back into the bedroom. “Something certainly has Rory and Jonas spooked,” he added abruptly.
Callie began to shake. “Do you think Richard Stockton had someone follow us earlier?”
He shook his head. “Duncan would have noticed. I would have noticed.” He crossed the room to reach down and grasp her chin, forcing her to look up into his face. “Remember what I said, Callie.” His jaw clenched. “You do as you’re fucking well told this time and stay put!”
She winced at his intensity. “But—”
“I don’t care if World War III breaks out down there, you will stay exactly where you are! Do you understand?” His fingers tightened painfully on her chin in emphasis.
“What if—” Tears welled up in Callie’s eyes as she gave a shake of her head. “What if you don’t come back?”
Lijah gave a hard and humorless smile. “Then one of the others will come get you. I need your word on this, Callie,” he insisted harshly as his phone gave two more buzzes.
“I’ll stay put.” She nodded as she moved up onto her knees. “I just— Take care, Lijah.” She looked up at him in appeal. “Please take care.”
His answer was to give her a brief hard kiss on the lips before he picked up the .44 Magnum from his bedside table and strode across the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him as he stepped out into the hallway.
Callie collected up her nightshirt and quickly pulled it back on before huddling back on the bed, her knees drawn up to her chin in her misery. This was all her fault. If she hadn’t looked directly at Richard Stockton earlier, then maybe—just maybe—he wouldn’t have recognized her.
“Lock the fucking door, Callie!” Lijah instructed harshly from the other side of the door.
She scrambled up onto her feet to hurry across the room on shaky legs before turning the key in the lock with fingers that trembled.
“Disobey me again and I’m going to enjoy warming your backside with my hand when I get back—and not in any way you would enjoy!” Lijah promised impatiently.
Callie leaned her forehead against the locked door as she heard his soft tread moving stealthily down the hallway away from the bedroom.
“Stay in the bedroom and keep away from the window,” Lijah had told her. How could he expect her do that when he and the other men from Grayson Security were down there in the grounds right now, facing—
What were they facing?
Lijah said they hadn’t been followed from the White House, but was it possible Richard Stockton had tracked them down to Lucien Wynter’s house during the hours since? Was he out there even now, accompanied by those same men who had been with him at the gallery six months ago? The same men who had held her father prisoner after he had been shot by their employer?
Richard Stockton lived a very public life—when he wasn’t robbing and killing people—which meant that he couldn’t just go disappearing off into the night without someone noticing. His wife, at the very least. So perhaps it was just his men who were outside?
Lijah and four men against however many of Richard Stockton’s men. Men who had already shown they weren’t afraid to shoot to kill.
Callie very much doubted that Lijah had that .44 Magnum just for show either. Any more than the other men who worked for Grayson Security all carried guns they didn’t intend using.
She had grown up around guns, had also been taught by her father to have a healthy respect for them. Guns were to be used as a defensive weapon, not an offensive one.
Maybe in the military that was true, but she very much doubted Richard Stockton’s men lived by the same rules.
If Lijah didn’t come back—
Callie froze as she heard the sound of several guns firing outside. Three shots, followed by a return volley of gunfire too rapid for her to be able to count them.
She forgot all about Lijah’s warning as she rushed over to the window and looked out, desperately searching the darkness of the garden and trees for any sign of Lijah or his men.
To her frustration, clouds had now moved in front of the moon, blocking out even that light and making it difficult for her to see anything other than shadows, some of them bushes and trees, some of them men moving stealthily through the darkness.
Lijah and his men or Richard Stockton’s?
Callie had no way of knowing from the confusion outside, and her knees gave way beneath her as she heard another volley of gunfire. She sank slowly onto the carpet beneath the window, placing her hands over her ears in an attempt to block out the noise of the gunfire.
Nothing would ever block out the pain if Lijah was injured. Or worse.
She had known him for what? Forty-eight hours? Just two days. And yet in that short time, he had become an integral part of her life. A necessary part.
Because she knew his sense of honor, his affection for and loyalty to her father, meant he would protect her to his last breath?
Or something else?
Tears burned down Callie’s cheeks as she lowered her hand to between her parted thighs, fingers instantly feeling the sticky evidence of where Lijah had come inside her just a short time ago.
Tangible evidence that Lijah lived.
Or that he had lived…
Chapter 15
Callie had no idea how long she sat there in the darkness, cloaked in that misery of heavy uncertainty as to whether Lijah was alive or dead. It could have been minutes or hours. Time seemed to be standing still.
And then the gunfire finally ceased, and she waited for Lijah to return.
And waited.
And waited.
Oh God, he wasn’t coming back. None of Dair Grayson’s men were coming back. They were all dead. All—
Callie forced down the hysteria and rose slowly back to her feet, knowing if that had truly happened, then Richard Stockton’s men might be entering the house even now. Searching for her downstairs.
Before coming up the stairs when they failed to find her down there?
She should have asked Lijah for his spare gun. Should have. Hadn’t.
Which meant she had nothing to fight back with.
Callie stared across at that closed and locked door, knowing the lock would offer very little resistance if anyone was determined to get to her. And if they were willing to shoot their way in here, then they, and Richard Stockton, obviously wanted her very badly. To kill? Or would they take her prisoner, like they had her father, before disposing of her later?
Did it really matter when Michael was dead, her father was dead, and Lijah and Dair Grayson’s men might now also be dead?
Yes, it mattered, damn it!
It mattered because if they were dead, they had all died trying to protect her, and for her not to fight back now would be disrespectful to all of them and the sacrifice they had made to keep her alive.
She straightened her shoulders determinedly before looking about the bedroom for something she could use to fight back with. This was Lijah’s bedroom, and he had brought all the bags up earlier from the car. Maybe he had another gun in his bag sh
e could use—
Ah-ha. There, on the dressing table. Another small-caliber pistol like the one he carried in his boot. It wouldn’t do too much damage from a distance, but close to…!
Callie checked that the pistol was loaded before holding it in her right hand, familiarizing herself with the feel and weight of it ready for firing.
If those men wanted her, they could come and get her, but she wasn’t about to go quietly.
“Callie?” A soft knock on the door accompanied the calling of her name.
Callie stood unmoving, the pistol in her hand aimed at the closed door, the softness of that voice making it difficult for her to tell whether it was Lijah’s voice or someone else’s. Someone possibly trying to trick her into believing it was him so that she unlocked the door and saved them the trouble of kicking it in.
“Callie, open this fucking door!” A clenched fist now pounded on the closed door.
Her breath left her in a shaky sigh of relief as she lowered the gun to rest against her thigh at the realization it was definitely an impatient Lijah on the other side of that door.
“You really don’t want to put me to the trouble of breaking this down—” Lijah broke off his threat as he heard the key turning in the lock before the door swung open. “Oomph!” He staggered backward and hit the wall behind him as a white-faced Callie launched herself at him. “Jesus, you weigh a lot more than you look!” he complained, his arms going around her and his hands cupped her bare ass when she wrapped her legs about his waist.
“I thought you were dead!” Callie gasped, clinging to him and showering his face with kisses. “You were gone so long, I thought you were all dead!” She moved back to give him a watery smile.
He grimaced. “One of Wynter’s neighbors reported hearing gunfire, I’ve spent the last ten minutes convincing the MPD—Metropolitan Police Department for the District of Columbia,” he enlarged dryly, “what the neighbors heard was just a couple of drunken buddies shooting at tin cans. They weren’t happy, but this is Lucien Wynter’s estate, and we’re obviously all guests of his, so they let it go with a warning to keep the noise down.”
Renegade Alpha (ALPHA 5) Page 15
