Engagement Rate (The Callaghan Green Series Book 1)

by Annie Dyer

  "Good reasons," I said, remaining rational and not lying prostrate on the sofa demanding that he impregnate me with his sperm. "Although I suspect you don't spend much time here."

  I tried the wine; it had a certain zest to it that bode well for me drinking the rest of the bottle.

  "I moved in here around the time Dad took a huge step back from the firm. It's always been my ambition to run it and drive it forward, developing it in a way my dad never did. He was really similar to Maxwell, obsessed with the law, rather than business and, yes, they're both smart people and can make the right appointments and take on the right clients, neither of them had the interest to drive the firm to where it could be." His passion for what he did radiated from every pore and at that moment I got the connection we had; push. We both pushed – at work, in the gym, with friends and family.

  I stretched my legs out towards him, causing him to lift them onto his lap. "You enjoy it though?"

  "More than anything. And it freed Max up to pursue his specialism, which made me happy." I sat myself up enough to press my lips to his shoulder and he used his arm to pull me closer.

  "You're a good man, Jackson Callaghan."

  "Most of the time."

  We finished the bottle and then Jackson broke the news that while I was getting ready he'd made Pad Thai, grabbing the ingredients on the way home. We ate in the large kitchen, envy shaking both of my shoulders at the space to prepare food and the logical design of where appliances were kept. I liked cooking, enjoyed fusing flavors and melding textures and I missed having someone to cook for. Jackson's kitchen was a cooking mecca, more so than Sophie's and full of natural light that made the space seem both larger and homely.

  After dinner, we sat in the lounge area, sipped a different bottle of Niagara Riesling and watched London through the windows. The conversation was quiet, soft murmurs about the city, the history and our past lives intermittently broken by softer touches.

  "I should clear up," I said, remembering that this was the first time I had been here and just our second date.

  Jackson stood up and stretched, his vest lifted, exposing his stomach and happy trail. This time I didn't listen to my rational voice and instead used his hips to pull myself towards him, putting my lips and tongue onto the abs that stared at me, whispering for me to taste them.

  "Van!" He started to laugh. I nipped at the thin layer of skin then licked upwards until I was standing, holding his shoulders. His laughter stopped as my eyes locked onto his, my hands interlocking round his neck, his hands pushing under my top onto my waist and then towards the side of my bra.

  This was the first kiss, the kiss where no one was watching, where no one could watch. It was just us and no reason to stop. It began softly, tentative, with opportunities to cease but neither of us did. One of his hands cupped the back of my head, allowing him to take more control and I let him, his tongue seeking entry, searching. I felt his erection through his sweats, but there was no rush. His hands stilled, just his mouth communicating his need. I bit at his lip, causing him to groan and deepen this kiss, demanding more.

  Then his hands moved, both grabbing my ass and lifting me up. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around his waist, holding onto his back for support and grabbing kisses as he moved us out of the living room to the stairs and up, into the master bedroom. Never had I been so thankful for what a gym could do to a man's body. And then I was against a wall, his hands sliding up my sides, thumbs shifting over lace, over my nipples. I tilted my hips towards his, needing to get closer as my center began to clench and age-old need drove my body, rational thought being dominated by desire, much as I was being held between a hard wall and a very hard man.

  His lips found my neck, biting and sucking. I was half unaware of my hands and their journey around his body, reveling in the touch of skin, firm muscle, the peaks, and valleys of him. Everywhere was taut, toned and hardened and I wanted to feel, he made me feel. He pinched my nipples and I gasped, feeling warm wet pool between my legs.

  "I could hold you here all night and take you against that wall, but it would be a shame to deprive my mouth of other parts of you," Jackson said, nipping my neck in between each work. He spun me around and we landed on the bed. Before I could begin to remove at least one piece of clothing, he was on me already, his mouth on mine. His hands lowered, pushing down my pants; I slipped off my top, wanting to get at least a little appreciation for my underwear, even if it wasn't destined to stay on for very long.

  His mouth went straight to my center and he sucked on my clit through the lace. I whimpered, a noise I hadn't heard myself make since I could remember. "Fuck, Vanessa, I need to slow down."

  "Why?" I managed to gasp. "Go slow next time. This won't be a one-time thing, right. I didn't peg you as a one-hit wonder?" I couldn't resist teasing him

  He paused, pressed up against my body. I pushed my thighs together, needing to relieve some of the pressure between my legs. "If you didn't look so fucking amazing in that underwear, I'd leave you frustrated and finish myself off in the bathroom." His eyes glinted dangerously and I was at risk of pushing him back and mounting him. A year, more than a year, had already been too long without sex and given the still surprisingly clothed male specimen in front of me I had just met a hard limit. Even I had a breaking point.

  I reached up to pull him down to me, but he slid down the bed and raised himself up on his knees. "Take your bra off."

  I sat up, put my fingers to the clasp at the front – God bless Victoria's Secret – and stopped. "Take your vest off."

  His chest I had seen before, muscled, tattooed, tanned. I took him in, licking my lips and knowing what it was doing to him. Then I moved my eyes to his, watching him as I unclasped my bra. My breasts had never been small, always more than a handful, with dark nipples that were like mood stones. His lips moved but no sound emerged, his eyes glued to my breasts. I expected him to move back in, to start to touch and suck and bite, but he regained eye contact instead. "And your panties."

  I raised to my knees, pushing my breasts towards him and shucked my thong down to my knees, letting him see how bare I was, the flatness of my stomach and my own muscles. I loved the gym, how it made me feel and look. I was hoping Jackson would enjoy the same effect.

  His sweatpants weren't hiding much and I suspected that was why he'd worn them. I could've told him to take them off but I was enjoying both the vulnerability and control. His eyes continued to cast over me, like a cat watching its prey and then I leaned in, pushing my breasts into his chest and straddling his lap, parting my legs. His hands immediately came up to my breasts, fingers to my nipples and he pinched hard, sending a jolt to my pussy. I could feel how slick I was already and loved it.

  One of Jackson's hands shifted between my legs, a finger caught my clit, causing me to jerk. He pinched my nipple again and flicked my clit at the same time and my legs struggled to keep me up. He laughed softly. "You're so wet. You're drenched," he said. "Is this all for me?"

  I opened my eyes that were now drowsy with desire. "Who else is here?"

  He laughed again, a finger playing at my opening but not entering. I needed something inside me and shifted my hips to encourage him further. He moved his hand. "Need something, do we?"

  "Fucker." I moved my hand from his shoulder and started to rub myself. He caught my wrist, holding it firmly.

  "That's my job. Do I need to tie your hands?" His voice was low and firm and I lost the power to respond as he encouraged me to lie back, one of his hands holding my wrist, the other still tweaking a nipple. His mouth dropped to my center and he started to lick and suck. I wrapped my legs around him, keeping him close. My free hand went to his hair, grabbed and pulling, my nails digging into his scalp as I came hard and fast, my body jerking uncontrollably and my cries loud enough to disturb any roosting pigeons.

  Jackson raised his head, still holding my wrist. His beard was glistening with my juices and he licked his lips. "How do you feel?" he said, sounding in co
mplete control whereas I was anything but.

  "Like I need you to fuck me hard." I knew what he'd done. He'd refused to put his fingers or tongue in me so I would be desperate for him to fill the space that needed him most.

  He released my wrist and delved into the pocket of his sweats, pulling out a condom. Then he was naked, his cock pointed north to his stomach, thick and long and I heard myself moan as I watched him roll the condom on to his length. The orgasm had both spent me and left me needing more. I lay flat on my back, legs spread, pussy wet and swollen, breasts on show for him to do as he wished.

  "You want me to fuck you hard?" he said, leaning over me. I reached for his back, starting to hold on. I felt his cock resting in between my legs and squirmed, trying to show him where I wanted it. "You need fucking so bad you can't speak?" He kissed me, slow and hard, demanding and forceful. I moved my hips again and he lifted his higher. Jackson bit my bottom lip and then lifted himself onto his hands, looking at me intently. "Can you take another orgasm?"

  I nodded. "I need you in me. I want to feel your cock inside." I hooked a leg over his waist, looking down in between us. I could see my nipples, hard enough to cut glass and him, powerful legs between mine. Pushing up using my upper body, I sought relief by feeling his chest on my breasts.

  There was laughter again from him, amusement at my need. Then he moved a hand down and positioned himself at my entrance and thrust into me, taking my breath from my body and causing that potent sting to throb through me. My eyes rolled to the back of my head, the sweet pinch of pain as he began to pulse reverberating through my body and I heard my cry.

  "You good?"

  "Fuck, yeah." I felt him push further into me and I cried out. "Haven't had sex in ages."

  "You're tight. I don't want to hurt you." He pulled out and then back in, faster, harder. My legs instinctively came up higher and he shifted them so they were over his arms, giving him deeper access and he set his rhythm, changing the angle to hit the spot deep inside me that made me cry his name.

  He put his weight on one arm, taking shorter thrusts and slipping his hand down to my clit. "I'm too sensitive," I said in between gasps.

  "Come once more," he demanded, pressing down his fingers and sliding them. I felt my muscles clench and I swear I saw angels as I came apart. And then I heard his cry and felt his cock palpitate inside me as his thrusts slowed. I opened my eyes and saw his expression as he came, his eyes on me. "Fuck, fuck. You feel so good." He slowed, his breath coming hard and he touched his forehead to mine, his lips on mine, all mine. The kiss was tender and sweet. I urged him onto his side, his cock still in me, our bodies close and continued the kiss.

  "You okay?" he said, almost a whisper.

  I ran a hand up his chest, still not having had my fill of him. I didn't know I ever would. "Slightly short for words but yes, I feel good, really good. You?"

  One of his hands resumed playing with my breast and I could feel need start to tickle. He kissed my neck and I shivered. "I need to clean up. Don't move." He pulled out of me and I wondered how long I need to leave it before suggesting we ditch condoms without sounding either clingy or whorish.

  "I don't think I can."

  I stayed lying on top of the covers, my breasts exposed. The night was warm and I felt no need to cover up. Jackson had seen me naked plenty and I was proud of my body. He chuckled as he came back into the bedroom, stopping near the door and looking at me. "I've just had you and I want you again." I propped myself up on my hands and looked over at him, catching sight of myself in the mirrors that fronted the wardrobe. I looked flushed, my lips and breasts swollen, my hair mussed. If anyone visited now they'd know what we'd been doing just from my hair. "You look beautiful."

  He sat on the bed, edging me forward so he could move behind me, pulling my back to his chest. He started to massage my shoulders, slow, tender movements across skin that was already sensitized. "Move your arms around my neck," he said, guiding them. I realized it would give him free access to my breasts. "Your nipples are really sensitive, aren't they?"

  I nodded as his hands moved over them, twisting, pinching and then his lips were on my neck and I bucked my hips, needing him again already. He caught my eyes through the mirror, reminding me of two nights ago when we were stood in front of the window at Sophie's. My body was exposed to him, we could watch his hands and the effect they had on me, my nipples hard, my breasts swollen. The soft light in the room made the wetness in between my legs glisten and I brought my knees together, realizing how on show I was.

  "Let me see," he said. "You can feel what you're doing to me." I could. He was hard against my back, so hard I could feel him throb. His right hand slipped down in between my legs and I heard my wetness as his fingers started to move. We both watched, my hips starting to shift, my legs further apart to give him more access, so we could both see. I had never in my life been so abandoned, so wanton. "You're loving this, aren't you? I'm going to make you come so hard and then I'm going to fuck you from behind so you can watch. But it's only me who gets to do this," he spoke softly and then he pinched my clit and I called out. "I'm the only one who gets to touch you here and feel inside you." He pressed a finger quickly into me and then withdrew, resuming the circular massage of my clit. My pussy began to clench and I pushed myself harder into his hand. He bit my neck and I came, my tremors breaking my body.

  Without giving me time to catch my breath, Jackson guided me onto my hands and knees, pulling open a drawer. I spread my legs wider, watching through the mirror. I saw him roll on the condom and then line up behind me. "Can't believe I need to be inside you again," he said as he pushed in deeply, holding my hips. "Next time, we'll be slow, but I can't right now. Watching you come..." He stopped speaking and I saw his eyes half close in the mirror. "Shit, Van, you're as tight as a vice, I've never felt anything like it. Fucking wish I wasn't wearing anything. I'm desperate to come in you." He ground his hips furiously, the angle catching that rare spot inside me. Then he wrapped one hand around my hair and pulled, not enough to hurt or be uncomfortable. The reflection was pornographic; my breasts swinging, his hand now holding one. My hands were on the mattress, the position giving his mouth access to my neck and I realized I'd be marked there tomorrow and into Monday.

  "Touch yourself," he said. "I want to watch you touch yourself and feel you come on my dick." I reached down and felt the wetness around my folds. Groaning, I started to touch, knowing that given the show we were watching in the mirror and his rough talk I was close. "I can't tell you the things I want to do to you. Fuck going out tomorrow, I'm not letting you leave."

  I leaned my head on his shoulder as my insides started to clench. He let go of my hair and breast and grabbed my hips, slowing the movement. "I'm fucking coming so hard!"

  We both slowed and Jackson started to collapse back, bringing me down to his chest, wrapping his arms around me. "Will you stay?" The words were said so softly, as if he was scared I'd be startled by any loud noise and leave. The bedroom seemed soothingly quiet now our cries had ceased, as if the walls were wrapping around us.

  "Do you want me to go?" I wasn't sure how I would cope if he said no and I had to leave after what we'd done.

  "Fuck no." He moved his hands over my back keeping me close. "I really want you to stay so I can wake up with you tomorrow morning and then have you again, slowly. Then I can make you breakfast and help you wash in the shower. It nearly fucking killed me before, knowing you were naked in the shower and I wasn't with you, helping you to get clean."

  I laughed gently. "You need to stop talking like that, Jacks. Otherwise, neither of us will be capable of anything in the morning." He kissed me and then moved his hips away, discarding the condom into a tissue and putting it next to the bed. "I'm on the pill. And I'm clean. I was tested after I split from..."

  "You don't need to say his name, not in here," he said, curling back up to me. "Let's get under the covers." We tucked ourselves under the blankets, the sheets hotel-soft, and I
curled into him.

  We talked quietly, the silence of the house heightening the intimacy. At that moment there was just the two of us and nothing else existed, no work, no family or exes, just us. I felt cocooned and safe and didn't want to be anywhere else. We only moved to wash and use the bathroom, the dinner pots ignored until the morning.

  "I'm clean too," Jackson said, my head on his chest, body draped across half of his. My fingers traced his tattoos, the designs, and pictures he had chosen to etch his body with. "Do we leave the condoms?"

  "I think so," I said, my finger now tracing his nipple. "Why so many tattoos?"

  "I like them," he said, his hand stroking my back, instilling a sense of calm I hadn't felt since I was a small girl. "They're kind of a timeline of my life, I suppose." I had already found his siblings' names wrapped in the quills of a feather. "Max and Callum both have a sleeve and a few others. Seph keeps talking about getting one, but he's too soft."

  "What about your sisters?" I said, even though my voice was quiet it filled the room, such as the silence. It felt like an oasis away from the noise of London, so calm and peaceful and just us, cocooned away. "Do they have any?"

  He ran a finger up and down my spine, a soft touch that melted me into him. "Payton has one on her back, an abstract justice symbol – Max and I have a similar one. Claire has one, but none of us know what it is or where."

  "Ava?"

  "I don't think so. She was talking about it, but I don't know if she ever got anything done. She's the biggest workaholic of all of us," he said. I was curled into him, my legs entangled with him, the pair of us marooned on a small part in the center of the big bed.

  "Why did you want to be a lawyer?" I said, my hand on his stomach, slowly stroking the muscle that was there. If this was just a weekend, if nothing came of it, it would be worth the inevitable heartache.