Page 56 of On Thin Ice

She rolls her eyes, wafting a dismissive hand towards me. “Just say thank you Taylor.”

“Thank you baby,” I whisper, hauling her body into mine and squashing her with a tight hug that likely blocks her airways.

When I eventually release her, watching her suck in a breathy laugh, I try to resume my earlier conquest of breaking her in half with my dick. But Callie has other ideas.

I try to slide my hand back into her shorts but she wags a finger at me and pushes at my chest. “Hold on, I told you I have one more present for you.” Before I have a chance to respond she whips out of the room like a gust of wind and I'm left standing in the centre of her bedroom, my dick protruding from my boxers. When Callie finally emerges, she’s wearing a white, satin dressing gown, one I’ve never seen before and my dick that was quickly deflating stands to attention again.

My eyes widen. “What’s going on here then?” I say as she leans against the now closed door, her eyes hooded with seduction. I fucking love where this is going.

Callie shrugs, a sexy smirk pulling at her lips. “You can unwrap me now.”

Fuck. Off.

“You’re serious?” I croak, my cock now straining against the cotton, fighting to get to her.

“So serious,”

I practically sprint across the room to get to her, yanking at the silky tie that keeps her body hidden from me and the second the dressing gown falls off her shoulders and pools at her feet I'm totally gone. She’s wearing a white set of lingerie, the lace clinging to the curve of her delicious hips, cupping the swell of her breasts and drawing my attention to the apex of her thighs like an ‘x’ marks the spot. I fall to my knees without thinking, this fucking goddess standing in front of me is mine and sometimes I still can’t believe that’s the truth.

“Jesus, you’re a fucking dream.” I whimper, biting my fist and blinking faster than usual to make sure I'm not dreaming all of this. Just when I think I couldn’t get any luckier with this woman, she goes and pulls something like this. Callie puts her hands behind her back, crossing one leg over the other and I look up at her, begging her with my eyes to let me have her.

“Do you want to touch me?” She murmurs, her voice so sexy, breathy but teasing all at the same time and I'm fucking living for it. I nod, my throat tight and dry when I try to swallow but Callie simply runs her manicured nails through my mess of curls.

“Beg me then,” she whispers and my heart nearly burns a whole through my chest, my dick following suit and trying desperately to escape. I force a dry swallow. “Please baby,” I croak, “please.”

Callie’s finger lifts my chin, a flabbergasted smile splitting her freckled face. “I was joking Sean.”

“I wasn’t, get your pants off now.” I groan, trailing my fingertips down her milky thighs, stopping at her knees and making my way back up again. Callie lets out a snicker and I gaze up at her again, inhaling her beauty, her lightly tanned skin, her dusting of freckles, her bright green eyes that make me want to collapse and die from their insufferable beauty.

This girl has me totally wrapped around her finger and she knows it. “Can I?” I rasp and she nods quickly.

I know why she’s so keen the second I remove her thong, the scrappy lace being immediately launched over my head to land somewhere on the ground. Her thighs are practically dripping with need, the heat radiating from her pussy, begging me to fill her. And trust me, I intend to do nothing else for at least the next hour.

Chapter 44

Callie

“Callie? Can you hear me?”

“Yeah Dad, I can hear you. What’s up?” I mutter, trying to tie my shoelaces as I wedge my phone between my shoulder and ear. He’s quiet for a moment and I can hear him muttering to someone in the background, his tone is making my stomach twist with nerves. I’m sure he’s talking to my mum, whom I haven’t seen for the last two weeks since we got back to Redwood after the best Christmas break of my life. I’ve been training all day and my brain needs to rest just as much as my body, but I'm sensing in my dad’s tone that he’s going to ruin any plan of relaxing that I had for the rest of the evening before I have to drive four hours to the bottom of the country.

“I think maybe you should come home for the weekend, just to spend some time with your mum.” He mutters and I hear a door close, muffling my mum’s irritated voice even further. I couldn’t decipher anything she was saying, but I could hear the warning and frustration towards my dad in her tone.

“I just saw her two weeks ago…” My words are coming out weak because the truth is I'm scared. I’m scared about what this means, is he saying her condition is worsening? And if he is then why doesn’t he just come right out and say it. “Is Mum ok?”

My dad heaves a tired sigh. “No, not really Cal, she’s going downhill and fast. I suggest you skip that competition tomorrow in Devon and instead come here and spend the weekend with your mum.”

I’ve always known my mum was going to die from cancer, the doctors told us the second time she was diagnosed that it was almost inevitable that it would take her from us at some point. But when I saw her two weeks ago she seemed in great spirits, full of life and bright sunshine as always. I guess that’s the thing about cancer though, it can decide to ruin your life at any given moment and you don’t always see it coming. My mum is also renowned for pretending she’s ok when she’s not, putting on a brave face for everyone around her and remaining strong even when she feels weak. “Let me talk to her,” I rasp, forcing a swallow when my throat feels unnaturally dry. I hear my dad sigh, but he knows I'm just as stubborn as my mum so he doesn’t bother to argue with me.

The next thing I hear is a wet cough come through the speaker. “Cal, you ok honey?”

I take a breath. “Yeah Mum, I'm fine. The real question is, how are you? Dad said you’ve gone downhill and I should skip my competition this weekend to come and see you.”

Another hard cough. “Don’t you dare skip that competition Callie Burch, you’ve worked so hard with those god awful routines and you’re going to smash them this weekend, no ifs or buts.”

“Mum, are you sure? I can come home and spend the weekend with you.” “No,” she croaks, clearly her gravelly throat again. “You go baby, I'm ok don’t worry about me.”

But I do, I do worry about her. I know she’s struggling and I can definitely hear the change in her voice from two weeks ago when I saw her. She sounds more frail, more damaged and it’s killing me to listen to. However, just like my dad I know not to bother arguing with her, so I reluctantly agree to go to my competition, promising to call her tomorrow night.

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