Page 89 of Callan

“Who said we were having sex?” he tosses at me, amused by how clumsily I’ve painted myself into a corner.

A few seconds pass, and out of the blue, I move my hand to his crotch and palm his bulge.

He’s still hard, twitching under my touch.

My gesture catches him completely unprepared, drawing him still for a moment before he laughs.

“You didn’t just do that. You fear nothing, woman,” he says, still chuckling and gently removing my hand from his fly.

“You don’t know how much I fear you,” I say as if delivering a nice play of words when, in fact, I’ve never been more honest in my life.

I take his hand, surprising him for the second time this evening, and lower the waistband of my pants and panties before pressing his fingers into my folds.

A sweet, warm smell of wet arousal fills the air, and his smile gets wiped off his face.

“We were having sex,” I say. “And I was moments ago from getting naked and straddling you to see how it feels to be filled by you.”

His eyes go through a fast sequence of emotions.

He seems to ponder, crush his impulse, and then ponder again before looking at my lips while I feed on these few moments of painful teasing.

His mouth comes to me so fast that I almost fall backward when he crashes it onto mine.

I didn’t see that coming.

I scream against his lips, but only for a second before he plunges his tongue into my mouth and dips his fingers between my legs.

Wet arousal coats his fingers, and my whole plan goes up in flames.

“No. Please, no,” I uselessly protest between kissing him back and struggling with mixed emotions. “Everything I said was true,” I say before he sinks his teeth into my lip and moves his fingers.

I push him back again, and he breaks the kiss.

“Listen,” he says, his eyes heavy and his voice deep and hoarse like he’s slept with his window open. “This is not us having sex.Youhaven’t had sex in a while. Soyouare not thinking straight,” he says, a pang of humor in his voice. “We’ll fix this first, and then we’re doing it your way. You have nothing to fear,” he says, moving his fingers slowly, driving me insane. “You need to get it out of your system. And I need to get it out of my system, too. Don’t let your fears run your life.”

Holding my neck with one hand, he strokes my center with the other, his lips and tongue rolling with mine again as I take him back, hungrier than before.

He breaks the kiss again.

“I won’t enter you tonight, but I need to taste you, all right? And no more touching my dick. It’s off-limits until you’re ready to let me fuck you.”

I don’t have much to say as he tilts the back of my seat, rolls my pants and panties down, leans to me, and opens my legs against his face.

A flurry of pulsations settles in my core when he presses his mouth against me. He surely knows how to soothe my fears and dismiss my objections.

By not entering me, he has free rein to deliciously mistreat my body until it sings like a violin.

“We’re not fucking,” he says, tapping my legs so I relax them.

I smile, defeated, trying not to dwell over the fact that I knew I’d be in trouble with him since that night on the balcony.

But having his lips between my thighs, the tip of his tongue moving around my clit, and his fingers going in and out of me at the same time is more than I could’ve ever imagined.

The more he pushes me to the top, the more I blame myself for not taking care of my needs and not being so easy in his hands.

On a different note, this is just a way of fooling myself into believing that this is a matter of me not having enough sex and not being obsessed with him.

Oh, wait a minute.

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