Callum: Regency Rockstars

by Sasha Cottman

  She sucked her cheeks in and drew back hard on him. Callum came with a shout and pumped his essence into her mouth. He touched her on the shoulder, signaling for her to pull away, but Eliza was not done. Slowly, she kissed her way along his length. When she reached the head of his cock, she flicked her tongue and took the last drop of him.

  Callum collapsed onto the bed. Eliza sat on the floor and silently congratulated herself. A recently married friend had given her specific instructions as to what she should do when a man reached climax and that piece of knowledge had been put to good use tonight.

  She was still sitting on the floor quietly enjoying her achievement, when Callum rose from the bed and reached out his hand. He pulled her to her feet, raining kisses down on her face. “Thank you. Thank you. That was incredible,” he whispered.

  Callum put a finger to his lips at the sound of Owen’s door being opened in the room on the other side of his. There was a snip of the lock followed by a low groan. “Oh, God, I am so drunk. I am going to pay for this tomorrow. Bed, oh, my friend!”

  Silence quickly followed. With any luck, Owen had passed out and would not be hearing anything that came from the room next door.

  Eliza chuckled softly and Callum pulled her into his arms, silencing her with a kiss which made her toes curl. He was such a dichotomy of angry rage and overwhelming tenderness. Yet despite all his tortured existence, he was a good man. He would fight his demons and she would stand by his side and do all she could to bring light back into his world.

  The kiss deepened, tongues dancing over one another. She clung to him, both claiming and yearning for him.

  When Callum brushed his hand lightly over the bodice of her gown, settling on where her peaked nipple pressed against the fabric, heat pooled once more in her loins. Eliza was eager for his touch.

  “Let me pleasure you,” he whispered.

  She silently nodded. There was not a hope in hell of her giving Callum any sort of refusal. Her body thrummed with need—for his hands to be on her heated skin, for his tongue to be lavishing her body with pleasure.

  Oh, I need this.

  He led her over to a nearby chair, smiling when she gave him a questioning look. Eliza had assumed he would lay her on the bed; the chair was unexpected.

  Lifting her skirts, he bared her to his sight. She shivered in the cool night air as Callum’s gaze settled below her belly. Anticipation built with every second.

  “On the chair, one leg over each arm,” he instructed.

  She did as he asked, letting out a gasp as he cupped his hands under her arse and pulled her to the edge of the seat. She was completely open to him. This was not something that they had ever done before. She was surprised that it gave her a sense of vulnerability and power all at the same time.

  He knelt before her on the floor, blowing cool air over her clit.

  “Lay back and close your eyes. I want you to go into your mind and think of all the most wicked things you have fantasized about us. About what you have always wanted me to do to you. Those deep secrets that you keep and only dare to bring to mind when you are alone in your bed and touching yourself,” he said.

  Eliza was going to burst into flames if Callum kept talking like this—her blood was already at boiling point.

  He slipped a finger into her wet heat and began to stroke. “Now I want you to tell me about this fantasy.”

  Her eyes shot open. He wanted to hear her secret story.

  He chuckled evilly. “You are not going to try and hold back on me now are you, Eliza? If you do, I might decide that you don’t deserve to come.”

  The harder and deeper that he stroked her, the more frantic she was to reach her climax. She was going to have to tell him that story.

  “Tell me,” he growled, thrusting his fingers faster into her sex.

  “You take me to the opera. To a private box. And you strip me naked,” she said.

  He hummed his approval. “Then what?”

  “There is a low sofa and I kneel on it. You come around behind me. You are still fully dressed, but you take your cock out and thrust it into me. And then you fuck me hard. At the same time, you are holding both my nipples and . . . Oh, God.”

  Callum set his tongue to her swollen nib, sweeping it back and forth, all the while continuing to pump his fingers in and out. The pressure inside Eliza was building to a crescendo.

  “Keep going,” he said.

  She drew in a ragged breath, unsure if she could keep up telling him the wicked tale. He pulled his fingers from her body and began to trace his tongue up and down her sex with long, strong strokes. Each time he reached her clit, he swirled his tongue around it then sucked.

  Yes. She most certainly could do this—just as long as he didn’t stop.

  “The opera is still going on below us and I am afraid that people might look up and see us. I beg you to stop, but you keep fucking me, telling me that I am yours to do with as you please. That you are my master and I am your sex servant.”

  Her capacity for speech ended. Eliza came on a sobbing cry, clasping her hand over her mouth to deaden the noise.

  As she slowly returned to earth, Callum continued to flick his tongue over her throbbing nib. The shudders of her orgasm rolled on through her body. It had never been like this between them before. She was utterly decimated.

  He rose on his knees over her. “That is a very naughty story, Lady Eliza. I am shocked that you would think me capable of such outrageous behavior in public.”

  She looked at him through her fuck-drunk haze and offered him a slow, sultry smile. “Private boxes are thirty-six shillings to hire for the evening—just in case you were wondering,” she replied.

  Callum softly chuckled then pulled her into his arms and held her close. He carried Eliza over to his bed and they lay down together. With her head resting on his chest, she could feel Callum’s strong heartbeat. There was a sense of certainty which came from being in his arms. That things between them would finally be alright.

  In the dark, silence settled in the room. Eliza was lost in her thoughts. So, it seemed, was Callum.

  Tonight, had been a defining moment for them. Callum wanted her beside him during the gathering storm; and that was exactly where she intended to be. She would use every ounce of her strength to help see them through the worst of the times which lay ahead.

  As their fingers entwined, she sent a silent prayer to heaven.

  Please let me be enough.

  Chapter Thirty

  A few days later, Callum had only had a couple of drinks before he, Reid, and Kendal left for the next Noble Lords show. Owen had not made it back to Windmill Street in time to head with them to the venue. It was becoming an annoying habit.

  For his part, Callum was still managing to resist temptation and stay off the other drugs. He had even got through a number of recent rehearsals without being drunk. For the moment, he would take any lucid moments as a small win on the long road to sobriety.

  He had promised Eliza he would do all he could not to drink, but once they stepped inside the large drawing room where this evening’s performance was to be held, a rage of a thirst gripped him. There was a veritable sea of seats lined up before them. It was by far the biggest audience the Noble Lords were yet to play. The familiar sign of a panic attack swelled inside of him at the prospect of all those people squeezed into the one room. His heart thumped hard in his chest as the memory of being crushed under dead bodies threatened to overwhelm him.

  Just as he lifted a large glass of whisky from the tray of a footman, another guest said, “Look how many chairs there are for tonight. I got to one hundred and thirty before I stopped counting. Though it is to be expected. What with the Noble Lords and those Italian chaps competing against one another tonight, is it any wonder there is such a huge turnout?”

  Callum downed his drink, then blindly reached for another. The prospect of performing in front of a huge crowd, while taking on their rivals had him thrown.

 
; Just enough to take the edge off. I am not getting drunk tonight.

  When the second drink had finally calmed his nerves, he tore himself away from the drinks tray and went to find Reid. He had to deliver the bad news as soon as possible.

  “Did you hear that Marco and the Italians are also performing here tonight?”

  “What?” replied Reid and Kendal in unison.

  Callum nodded in the direction of their hostess. “Apparently our hostess wanted to have us compete against one another. A musical version of a duel.”

  He clenched his fists tightly, determined not to go and search out another drink. They were all going to have to play as well as they could this evening.

  Across the room, stood the leader of the Italians, Marco Calvino. He may well have thought highly of Marco’s singing abilities, but the man himself left a lot to be desired in Callum’s books. He seemed to take particular delight in cutting Reid down to size at every opportunity; and while he and Reid had their own ongoing issues, Callum was clear in his support of his friend.

  Owen finally arrived and the Noble Lords were announced as performing first on the bill. Callum was more than happy to get things out of the way as soon as possible. He had plans to go and see his father this evening to discuss the possibility that he and Eliza might shortly be wed.

  The Noble Lords played their standard musical set. Kendal managed to stop complaining about Mozart long enough to pay perfect homage to the late musical genius. The whole evening was going off without a hitch.

  As they reached the end of their official play list, a Beethoven sonata, Reid got to his feet. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have one last performance for you this evening. It is a new rendition of the famous aria Vedro con mio diletto. For this, I will be singing as a tenor. I hope you enjoy it.”

  Callum and Owen shared a worried look while ‘oh fuck’ drifted to his ears from over in Kendal’s direction. To his relief, Kendal immediately began to play the opening notes of the aria. Fortunately for the Noble Lords, Reid had chosen a popular song and neither Kendal nor Callum required the music sheets. He lifted his flute to his lips.

  Reid started off well; he reached for the higher notes and hit them. But then he began to falter. Callum cast his gaze sideways out over the crowd and his heart sank.

  In the middle of the audience were Marco and his cousins. The Italian countertenor was seated with his eyes closed, a deep frown on his face. Every time Reid reached for a higher note, he held up a finger, and when Reid didn’t quite make it, Marco winced.

  From the way things quickly deteriorated, it was obvious Reid was watching Marco’s every move. As the Noble Lords’ lead singer strangled the song, Callum and Kendal kept playing. There was nothing anyone could do to save Reid; he was a fireball crashing to earth.

  When the torture of Reid’s performance was finally over, Callum put down his flute. Marco and his friends were laughing.

  Owen leaned across to him as the audience continued to heckle and boo. “Between the two of us, you and I are going to take those Italian bastards down. We will get revenge for Reid.”

  Callum nodded. War had been declared.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  It took some work on the part of Owen, Kendal, and Callum to convince a shattered Reid that they all had to stay and watch the Italians perform. For Callum, it was torture. His friend had to suffer the humiliation of failing in public and then follow it up by listening to Marco sing. He silently prayed for Marco to make a mistake, but his pleas to heaven were not answered. Marco was the singing equivalent of the brilliant Kendal.

  At the end of the evening, he headed home to see his father. Sir Thomas had taken to staying up late and sleeping as best he could in the early hours of the morning. Callum arrived to find him in the library with piles of books arranged on a table. He gave Callum a tired smile. “I am surprised to see you at this late hour. Didn’t you have a show tonight?”

  “Yes, we did have a performance, but I wanted to talk to you,” replied Callum.

  Sir Thomas gestured toward the large leather sofa which took up much of the floor space. “Come, sit. Would you like a brandy?” His father hesitated at the mention of alcohol, then added, “Or tea. I could ring for some.”

  Callum took a seat on the sofa. “Brandy will do fine. I had a couple of glasses of whisky earlier on, but as you see, I am mostly sober. I am trying not to be permanently in my cups.”

  Sir Thomas didn’t reply to his last comment and Callum suspected it was because his definition of being in his cups was something vastly different to that of his father. Sir Thomas would no doubt consider any amount of alcohol that impaired a man’s decision-making capacity to be more than enough.

  The baron poured them both a drink, then slowly lowered himself onto the other end of the sofa. He gave out a weary groan as he let go of his walking stick. “I never thought dying would be such a wearisome process. I had hoped that one day when I was very old that I would go to bed and simply not wake up.”

  Callum forced a tight smile to his lips and nodded. He had seen many violent and horrific deaths during battle; his father’s passing wasn’t the worst way a man could go. “Are you in pain?”

  “Not overly, though I can get the laudanum the doctor has prescribed if things get too bad. To be honest, I am not that keen on the stuff. I don’t like things that make my head muddled.”

  Callum sipped his brandy. It shamed him to know that his father would rather endure pain and maintain a clear head, while he himself had spent the best part of the last year doing everything in his power to keep his mind befuddled.

  “Now what brings you out at this hour of the night?” asked Sir Thomas.

  “I need your counsel regarding Lady Eliza Follett,” replied Callum.

  A soft smile lit his father’s face. “Ah. I was wondering when we would get to the subject of that young lady. Your mother and I were most pleased to see her the other night. She is quite protective of you.”

  Protective.

  Callum hadn’t really given much thought to Eliza’s motivation regarding her visit to his family home. At the time, he had been too shocked to see her standing in the house talking to his mother to pay much mind to it.

  “I expect you are right about her. She is protective and loyal to those whom she loves,” Callum said. He let that last word sink in, grinning when his father raised an eyebrow. It was good to be able to talk to someone about Eliza without worrying that there would be repercussions. He certainly couldn’t talk to any of his fellow Noble Lords about her. Not yet.

  “And what about you, Callum. Do you love her?”

  “I do love her. I have been a fool when it comes to Eliza, but no longer.”

  “Have you been honest with her? I mean, about your problems. All of them?” replied Sir Thomas.

  He considered his father’s question for a moment. There was more to it than a simple request for the truth. His father wanted to know if Eliza was aware of what she might be letting herself in for if she made good on her promise to love him and become his wife.

  “We have talked. She knows about the drugs and the problems with alcohol. She also knows about you and the Royal Jubilee Mines company. I felt I needed to explain the situation to her. But she is the only person in whom I have confided that piece of news. Not even her brother knows,” said Callum.

  “Good. So, she understands the need to keep things secret. I am glad you have found someone who you feel you can talk to and trust. There are dark days ahead for you; you will need her counsel.”

  The future was the reason why Callum had made the journey home this evening. He was worried about what that might look like for him and Eliza. Could he be about to offer her the life that Reid was so desperate to keep her from living?

  “I need you to be brutally honest with me; am I worthy of her?”

  With an unsteady hand, Sir Thomas lifted the glass of brandy to his lips. Callum gritted his teeth and fought back tears. Here he was, worried about his
own life, when his father was facing the worst time of his. His father met his gaze. He may have been ailing, but his eyes were sharp and clear.

  “That is a question that only you can answer, my son. It is not a case of whether you are worthy, but rather, are you living a life that is worthy of her—of her continued support and love? Part of that has to include you being honest with her. Of her knowing all your faults and what happens when you succumb to your inner demons . . .” The baron trailed away, falling silent.

  Callum sat for a time, his gaze tracing the intricate pattern which ran along the edge of the Persian rug on the floor. His father’s unspoken words of course being that if Callum did break and get blind drunk or go back to using drugs, Eliza would be the one left to pay.

  “I want to marry her, but I want her making that decision with full knowledge and an open mind,” said Callum. He couldn’t imagine a future without Eliza. And if that was what he wanted, he had to make it a reality. He had to work to get sober and stay that way.

  “You need to do that—allow Lady Eliza to make a fully informed decision. It would not be right otherwise. But what about Viscount Follett? You have not made mention of him in any of this.”

  “He has warned me off his sister. Repeatedly. He considers me a bad risk,” he replied.

  “He must know you have feelings for Lady Eliza, so if you were able to get him to see the effort you are making to change your life, would that not help your cause?”

  “No.”

  Reid would forever stand between him and Eliza. The man was resolute in his determination to keep them apart.

  Callum was more than willing to hire a coach and a team of fast horses to spirit Eliza away to Gretna Green. A quick wedding over the anvil would see the job done. But a scandalous elopement would, of course, confirm all that Reid had said about him and set their marriage off on the wrong foot. If they were to marry, it would have to be in London.

  “Well then, we both have work to do. You have to convince Lady Eliza that you are worth the risk of not only defying her brother but keeping your marriage a secret. While I had better arrange a letter from my banker and make an appointment to see the Archbishop of Canterbury,” replied Sir Thomas.