Page 46 of Callow

Callow’s hands slid up and down my back, slipping my skirt up a little bit more each time. His fingers sank back into my ass, pulling me down just right so I could feel his hardness at the juncture of my thighs.

The feeling had a long, low moan escaping me, muffled by his lips on mine.

Callow took the opportunity to let his tongue slip into my mouth to toy with mine.

Desire was something coiled tight in my core, making me shameless in my need. My hips rocked against his cock, stoking the pleasure as I kissed him harder, deeper.

His hands only urged me on, pulling me more firmly against him, helping me writhe against him.

On a sexy little rumbling sound, Callow rolled me under him, grinding down hard between my thighs, making my back arch and a loud moan escape me.

Liking that, he did it again. And again.

Until my legs were wrapped around him, my thighs shaking.

Close.

So, so close.

And just then, my phone started to ring from inside my purse a few feet away.

It was too late for work.

Britney and Sam knew I had a date.

And Daphne seemingly wanted me on this date almost as much as I wanted it.

Which meant she would only be calling if it was an emergency.

Seeming to come to the same conclusion, Callow rolled off of me as I reached blindly to the side, finding the purse and wrestling my phone out of the too-tight space.

Daphne.

“Hello?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound as breathless to her as I did to myself.

“Mom!”

Every mom knew the sound of fear in their kid’s voice. I shot up to my feet, my heartbeat punching against my ribcage.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” I asked as Callow started tossing my purse and the picnic basket into the kayak, sensing we needed to make a quick getaway.

“Someone’s breaking into the apartment,” she whispered, her voice quivering.

“Did you call the police?” I asked, hearing the catch in my daughter’s breath as tears threatened.

Callow was already reaching for his phone, dialing, then telling the dispatcher the details after I gave him the address.

“Baby, the police are on their way,” I told her, hearing my own voice getting frantic, and forcing it to even out. My hysterics weren’t going to help.

“Are you hiding?” I asked, stomach twisting at the idea.

“On the balcony,” she admitted. “I see them. Oh, God. I think they saw me,” she whimpered.

“It’s okay. There’s a door between you. They probably only want our stuff, not you, okay?”

“I don’t think so,” Daphne said, her voice chillingly hollow. “They’re coming toward me,” she added.

We were on the third floor.

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