Page 28 of Save Me
“Not of you,” I say quickly. “Scared because I’m starting to feel things that terrify me. You, all of you, have wormed your way into places inside me I didn’t know existed.”
Callum’s lips curve up into a half-smile, but there’s something dark lurking in his eyes, something hungry and desperate and maybe just as scared as me. “Then we’re doing something right,” he says and leans in.
His kiss is tender this time, a promise of protection and passion.
He strips off, letting his clothes drop to the floor, forgotten before he guides me into the shower. The water washes over us, cleansing away the blood and grime, but the stains on our souls are harder to wash off. We stand there, letting the water trail down our bodies as we embrace silently.
In this moment, with him, I feel a fragile sense of peace. The chaos outside this bathroom, the danger that lurks at every corner—it all waits for us. But right now, it’s just Callum and me and the promise of something unbreakable forming between us.
The hot water becomes soothing when Callum lathers soap over my body with a tenderness that’s at odds with everything else that has happened tonight.
“We’ve got you,” he says softly, his hands gentle as they trace over my skin.
Once I’m completely clean, he drops to his knees and presses his face to my pussy, flicking his tongue over my clit as the water rains down over us.
The sensation jolts a rush of heat through me, competing with the warmth of the water. I gasp, steadying myself against the tiled wall, my fingers tangling in his wet hair. Callum’s mouth works magic, unyielding and insistent. His tongue delves into me as though he’s unravelling every secret I’ve ever held close.
There’s no room for thought, just feeling—uninhibited and overpowering. Every lick stokes the fire building inside me.
My legs tremble as the pleasure mounts. The water cascades over us like a waterfall, cutting us off from reality. His hands grip my hips, steadying me as I ride out the waves crashing against the shore of my sanity.
“Fuck, Callum,” I pant.
This isn’t just about sex; it’s him claiming me, showing me that despite the shitstorm outside, in here we have control. We have each other.
When I come, it’s with a force that nearly buckles my knees. He rises, his lips glistening from his efforts and his eyes blazing with something fierce and possessive. “No one gets to touch you like that ever again—only us, understand?”
I nod because words are beyond me at this point. He wraps his arms around me and lifts me up and onto his cock before slamming me up against the cold tiles, and I cry out, the sensation almost too much to bear. The way he fills me, the power in his thrusts—it’s overwhelming. He’s relentless in his pursuit of my pleasure, each movement designed to drive us both mad with need. He’s a fucking inferno, and I’m willingly getting burned, over and over again.
“Fuck, Vogue,” he groans into my neck, his breath hot against my damp skin. “I can’t get enough of you.”
His hands roam over me, claiming every inch. His touch is possessive but carries a hint of tenderness that’s just as intoxicating as his dominance.
“You belong to us,” he grunts, “to me.”
I meet each of his thrusts with urgency. With him, I’m not just the girl from Westfield—I’m someone powerful, desired, protected.
A mafia princess in the making: Vogue Jameson McGowan.
He drives into me harder, faster, the clenching deep inside me signalling the approach of another earth-shattering climax. It builds rapidly, and I hold on to him as if he’s the only solid thing in a world that keeps trying to throw me off balance.
With a final deep thrust that hits just right, I shatter around him, and he follows soon after with a vibration that runs through his body.
“Fuck,” he rasps. “You’re fucking perfect.”
Neither of us moves. The water cascades over us like a benediction. After moments or an eternity, he withdraws from me and shuts off the water. He helps me out, wrapping me in a large towel. Droplets still cling to our skin, but the warmth from his body is enough to chase away the chill. He carries me out of the shower and sets me on the edge of the sink as he reaches for another towel, which he slings around his waist.
I can barely meet his eyes because with clarity comes realisation—I’ve crossed lines today that there’s no turning back from. But strangely, I don’t want to. The thought terrifies me as much as it anchors me.
Callum watches me, his gaze intense and searching. “You did what you had to do,” he says firmly. “No regrets, Vogue. You can’t, or it will eat you alive.”
“I’ve killed two people,” I whisper, the words tasting like bile.
“They were dead anyway,” he says in that controlled tone that terrifies me.
“Doesn’t make it any less scary.”
“I know.” He doesn’t flinch from the truth. “That guy has been taken care of. No one will ever know it was you.”
