DAY 31

by Kane Caldwell

  Noelle: Amazing.

  I smiled at the screen as an image of her blushing cheeks came to the forefront of my mind. The simple answers were nothing but lack of experience.

  Me: Are you playing with yourself, princess?

  After I hit Send, I took my cock in hand and began to slowly stroke, staring at the screen.

  Noelle: No.

  My heart fell into my stomach, and all the shouting to stop turned into screams, producing a shooting pain in my head. But I kept on.

  Me: Touch yourself for me, baby. Slip your hand into your panties and rub your clit.

  It wasn’t a second later when her message popped up.

  Noelle: Ok.

  It was then, knowing that she was touching herself, that my slow stroke turned into a stronger jerk on my dick. Resting the phone on my thigh, I started typing with my left hand.

  Me: Close your eyes and think about it being my fingers and tell me how it feels, Noelle.

  I tugged harder, my breathing becoming heavy.

  Noelle: It feels so good, Callen. Too good.

  “Fuck,” I grumbled quietly as my pulls became violent strokes.

  Me: Yeah, baby, it feels real fucking good here too.

  My head fell back, eyes closed, and my mind filled with Noelle spread wide, playing with her pussy. A deep moan escaped my throat as I slowed my strokes down. I was ready to fucking blow.

  The vibration on my leg had my eyes opening and focusing on her text.

  Noelle: Are you touching yourself too, Callen?

  Me: Yes, princess, and thinking of nothing but you playing with your sweet pussy, wishing so damn bad that I was there with you.

  It was after I hit Send that the deep regret of what I’d confessed rolled around in my stomach. But I was too far gone to focus on it as I picked up momentum, causing my balls to tighten and cock to swell with its pending release.

  Noelle: God, Callen, me too. I’m going to…

  I pictured her head falling back, eyes closing, my name falling from her lips as she came. And that image had the first squirt of come exploding from my dick, a silent rumble filling my chest. Pulling rough and hard, I milked my cock, Noelle’s name falling from my lips in a deep groan again.

  Noelle: Callen?

  My breathing was heavy as the aftermath of coming hard started to subside. And before reaching for a towel, I typed back.

  Me: Yes?

  Just as I retrieved the towel, her message popped up.

  Noelle: I came, and… hard.

  My lips twitched as I replied.

  Me: Me too, baby, me too.

  I rested the phone on the small vanity, stood, and started cleaning up. Flipping the light on to make sure all remains were gone, I caught my reflection in the mirror and stopped.

  “What in the fuck are you doing?” I asked myself, but there was no response. “For fucks sake, Callen, she’s sixteen years younger than you, and your goddamn visitor,” I hissed at my image.

  I quickly flicked the switch off, causing the bathroom to turn pitch black. Quickly, I pulled my boxer briefs up, took off my jeans, and left the room. Lying in bed, I heard the echo of the cell vibrating four times against the bathroom counter, but I never got up to check it.

  Chapter Eight

  Noelle

  *~*DAY 40*~*

  There’s plenty in life that causes that deep-down pain inside that only you know about. It consumes you, but no one notices as you hide behind a smile. The nagging in my gut that’d been following me since Sunday night was embarrassment, guilt, regret, but most of all, emptiness. It’d been thirty-nine hours, nine minutes, and forty-one seconds since the last time I heard from Callen. Not that I’d been counting. But every time I opened the text messages, which I’d done often, the time stamp kept reminding me of the period of time that had passed.

  “Me too, baby, me too.”

  Those five words in his rough, deep tone had played copious times through my head.

  Sunday night, when we masturbated together via text, had been the first time I’d ever done that with someone. The thought of him touching himself as he thought of me had me coming in record time. It could’ve been the words he typed to me, or me believing that his words were true when he said he wished he was with me. When he hadn’t answered my four texts after—“I’d never done that before,” “Callen, are you there,” “Please answer me. I’m feeling kind of self-conscious here,” and “Maybe you fell asleep. Text me as soon as you get this, please.”—I fell asleep with my cheek laying against the wetness caused by my tears on my pillow. Yesterday, my father had piled my desk high with the weekend’s donations, along with the arrangements I was required to schedule for the upcoming church picnic. So I texted Callen, letting him know I wouldn’t be able to make it.

  He never texted me back.

  I allowed myself a few tears while I tried to choke down a sandwich at lunch, but that night I fell asleep the same as I did the night before. But before my swollen eyes closed, I sent him a text letting him know I’d be coming around three today.

  Wolfing down a drive-thru burger at lunch allotted me enough time to run into Walmart and purchase what I intended to bring with me today, which put a substantial dent in my savings. Of course, I ran it by Dr. Meyers in an e-mail, and he approved it. I decided an e-mail was the best route to go in contacting him just in case Callen had been acting out, or his cell had made contact with the wall in a fit of anger. But when Dr. Meyers had e-mailed back, he didn’t ask any questions, which to be honest made a small part of me sad.

  I wasn’t sure what caused those feelings, since I didn’t wish ill on anyone, especially Callen, but I wanted him to feel.

  Feel… something for me.

  “Dinner Thursday night at four?” My father’s voice breaking through my thoughts had my head leveling to meet his eyes. “Pam is making baked ziti,” he finished with a smile.

  Ughh! My stepmother made her own homemade sauce that tasted like watered-down, extremely sweet canned tomatoes.

  “Yum,” I replied with raised brows and a small smile.

  His hand came out and he signaled to my clothing. “Wear something nice too, will ya. We’re having company.”

  I looked down and took in my baby-blue fitted halter top with small white embroidered flowers filling the bottom half, black capris, and flats that matched the color of my shirt. I had changed the color on my toes to a pale pink, as I knew the selection I’d made before made me look childish.

  I’d done my hair that morning in curls, knowing they’d relax over the course of the day into gentle waves, and I’d applied makeup. First mascara, then I added a hint of blush, ending it with a deeper pink gloss to my lips than my normal.

  So when my father gestured to my outfit like he had, my stomach sank. I’d kept telling myself all day that I was primping for me and not for my visit with Callen, but I wasn’t fooling myself.

  “Sure, Dad,” I replied, and went back to pulling the warm copies from the tray.

  “See ya tomorrow morning, Ellie,” he finished, and he was a few steps out the door when it hit me.

  “Dad!” I yelled, going to the door.

  He was some steps down the hall and turned. “Yes?”

  “Tomorrow,” I started, and when his face took on a hard expression, I eased into and lied, “I have class in the morning. So I may be late to work.”

  He turned his back to me and started back down the hall, voice hard. “This school business is getting in the way of your work.”

  It wasn’t at all, but I yelled, “Okay, Dad,” pacifying him as he turned the corner.

  When I turned and slipped back into the office, I reached for my cross and said a small prayer that God would forgive the dishonesty toward my father. But the thought of not being able to see or take Callen for our first outing tomorrow caused a tightness in my chest I’d never felt before.

  *~*~*

  I hauled the big shopping bag out of the truck and slammed the lid. Patting my c
ar, I said, “Thanks for making it here.”

  I felt that if I talked to her enough times she’d keep on running. It hadn’t been working as well as I expected, since she kept stalling more often. And putting the extra miles on her that I was had made me think I should have purchased a car before I started all this. But when I’d kept track of Mountains Bay newsletter and saw they were taking applications for a visiting program, that’d been my in, something I couldn’t pass up.

  I remembered the night before my interview with Dr. Meyers and his team vividly. As I sat in the first pew, I’d prayed that Callen Westbrook was going to be a part of the visiting program. That all my unanswered questions would finally be answered and that the nagging pit in my stomach would begin to heal. It hadn’t been until the next day and an hour into the interview that I’d seen the patients’ names and known my prayer was answered.

  “Let me get that for you,” Dr. Meyers said, rushing to the door to hold it open for me.

  “Thank you,” I replied, slipping by him, and stopped. “And thank you again for letting me do this.”

  “I think it was a smart idea,” he returned with a smile. “Please, let me carry that for you.” He reached for the bag.

  “No,” I quickly answered. “But thank you. I want to surprise him myself. Is he in his room?”

  “Yes.” His tone changed as he informed me, “He’s been spending most of his time in there the past few days.”

  I disguised the sadness and started to move away, ending our conversation as I said, “Maybe this will help then.”

  “I’m sure it will,” he returned as I began to walk away.

  By the time I hit Callen’s room, I was a tad out of breath from hurrying the whole way. I took a deep breath and with excitement and slight nervousness, I entered the room with a smile.

  “Come on, sleepyhead, I got you a gift,” I said, assessing his relaxed body lying on the bed.

  He didn’t move or say anything.

  I put the bag on the floor and sat in the chair in front of the desk across the room, and watched his face, which was covered from the bridge of his nose and up with his beanie. My gaze moved to his chest, rising and falling in a gentle manner. Then my eyes involuntarily slid down and back up, taking in all that was Callen Westbrook, and my heart began to pound.

  I wondered what it would feel like to curl up next to his large, muscular frame. Fit myself against his body, drape an arm and a leg over him, feel his heat. Have his large hand rest on my hip, strong fingers gripping my flesh. A sudden heat rose from my toes and crept up my body as all those visions filled my head.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely, jarring me from my fantasy.

  And before I could utter a response he reached out with his hand open. I didn’t even have to give it a second thought; I rose from the chair and walked to him. It was as if his body was in tune with mine, because as soon as I was within reach, his hand lifted and folded mine into his.

  An intense heat ripped through my body, closely followed by chills that riddled me with goosebumps. He squeezed, and sensations flared, causing my legs to wobble.

  “I was an ass, princess, for not getting back to you. I’ll own that.” His voice was low and rough.

  I gripped his hand and replied in a whisper, “Don’t do it again.”

  “I won’t.”

  The air in the room was becoming so thick it felt like I couldn’t take a deep breath. So, to lighten it, I shook his arm.

  “I got you a gift.”

  His perfect lips, surrounded by a few days’ worth of scruff, turned up into a small smile. I focused on it and wondered since just the slightest tip of his lips had him looking impossibly gorgeous, what would a full grin be like? I said a small prayer that today I would find out.

  “I bet I know what it is.”

  “Oh really?” I giggled and went to move, but his hand gripped mine firmly while his other hand finally lifted the beanie off his eyes.

  Instantly his came to mine and he held me glued to the spot. It was actually the first time I truly studied the pain and darkness behind them, and it didn’t detract from his stunning features, only added a mysterious side to him. I planned on exploring it further, and suddenly I wanted to crawl inside him and wash away all the demons. My heart clenched as his eyes softened the longer he stared into mine.

  “A candle?”

  “No,” I whispered breathlessly.

  A whole other spark filled his eyes. A rush of heat crawled up from my toes and coiled deep in my belly. He gave me one more squeeze and told me softly, “I gotta let go, princess, before I do something I shouldn’t.”

  And God… I wanted him to do it. Because if that heat in his eyes was anything to go by, I wanted it… bad. It was such a mixed emotion for me to try and conquer as I looked into his eyes, because I’d never wanted someone’s hands on me like I wanted Callen’s. But I also knew we shouldn’t.

  So regretfully, I nodded, and he let go.

  The instant my hand fell to my side, I missed his touch. The firmness of his clutch, the warmth of his skin and… the contact.

  Taking a quick deep breath, I turned and went to retrieve the bag. When I returned to Callen, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching me.

  “Here you go. Look inside,” I said impatiently, bouncing on my feet.

  He took the bag from me, watching my face. When he finally pulled the handles apart and his eyes focused on what was inside, he went still. So many emotions flashed across his face so fast, I didn’t have time to analyze any of them—except the last one.

  It was dark, scary, and my smile faded rapidly as my breathing picked up with worry.

  “You don’t like it,” I whispered.

  His eyes closed.

  My hands began to tremble as my legs grew weak.

  I’d messed up.

  The heaviness in the room caused me to move and take a seat in the chair.

  “Callen….”

  “We never exchanged gifts,” he started in a very low, gritty tone. “She felt it was fucking meaningless. Always said if we really wanted something we could just go out and buy it for ourselves.” He took a deep breath, keeping his eyes closed. He tightened his grip on the handles, making the veins in his hands and arms bulge. “But I started buying them when I felt it. Gifts upon fucking gifts. Hoping to salvage what we had, only to find out she would return them. That’s when I should’ve fucking known, Noelle.”

  His eyes sprang open and he looked at me with such hate and disgust, but I knew it wasn’t meant for me, rather, his dead wife.

  Quietly and softly, I asked, “Known what, Callen?”

  His tone was low and chilling as he told me, “She was using again.”

  Wait! What?

  Using?

  That was definitely new information to me. I’d thought I knew… everything. But apparently I didn’t. With this new information, my mind began to whirl, making me dizzy.

  “Drugs?” The question came out in disbelief.

  He nodded in conformation with his lips pressed in a tight line.

  That couldn’t be right. Something wasn’t adding up. Could it be possible that I had the wrong guy? No! I had done months and months of research, and every lead led me to Callen Westbrook. But he would have never….

  “Noelle?” he called.

  I hadn’t even realized that my gaze had dropped to my lap, but when I brought my eyes to his, they were focused on my neck. I was gripping my cross.

  I saved myself from any questions as I said, “I’m sorry, Callen, this is new information is all.”

  He nodded again, but kept his eyes glued to my fingers rubbing the gold. I dropped my hand to my lap, shoving what he’d just told me to the back of my mind.

  “Do you like it?” I jerked my head toward the bag.

  Something flashed across his face before he blinked a few times and whispered, “It’s fucking awesome, princess.”

  I smiled. He didn’t.

 
*~*~*

  We had been playing Forza on the Xbox for about two hours. My gift hadn’t gone totally as planned since I hadn’t really thought about the fact that the game system would have to be hooked up to the TV in the common room, not giving us much privacy. It’d only given us a few moments alone, not enough time to get into any heavy conversation. And that’d been exactly what I’d been hoping for when I purchased the system, absorbing Callen in a game he loved as I grilled him with questions.

  But as he whipped my butt on the multiple games we did play against each other—some I let him play himself—he hadn’t opened up like I’d expected. We’d kept talk to a minimum, me asking things about the game, him relaying how to control the car, and a few times he told me about how he and his brother would play. How they’d make bets on certain races. Who had to buy the other their favorite bottle of liquor, dinners, or purchase the newest game coming out.

  “Dinner in fifteen,” Samantha informed us as she peeked into the room.

  He never looked away from the screen as he effortlessly maneuvered the virtual car and asked, “You wanna stay and eat?”

  I was bumping into everything in sight as I steered the controller as if it was a steering wheel and replied, “Sure.”

  We finished the game, him in first, me swerving into last place. Then we made our way to the dining hall in silence and did the same as we loaded our plates with meatloaf, mashed potatoes, seasoned green beans, biscuits, and a small cup of pudding. Once I finished filling my dish, Callen took it from my hands and began to walk away. It took me a minute to shake off the shock of his gentlemanly act and finally move.

  “Cal?” Steven yelled from across the room.

  “No!” Callen rumbled.

  “Okay,” Steven drawled, and looked to me. “Are you gonna eat your pudding?”

  I silently shook my head, but Callen boomed, “Yes!” He turned and looked at Steven. “She is.”

  Reaching the table that Callen had picked at the back of the room, I retrieved my cup of pudding from the plate. “I don’t want it,” I whispered to him.