Page 38 of A Loser by Christmas
“Get right up close behind me.”
He does, and we’re back where we started, only kneeling now instead of standing. His chest is to my back, his mouth finding the spot on the side of my neck that I hope to fuck my jumpsuit will cover tomorrow morning. He sucks, and I grind back on his dick in the crease of my arse. His breath stutters when I shift, and his cock slips down to where I clamp my slick thighs tight.
This isn’t exactly what I’d say yes to in a heartbeat, but I can feel his heart race wherever we’re connected. His arms band my chest, mooring himself to me, holding fast like I once did for another Trelawney.
I can be as steady for him, as strong, and I am until he finds my dick and wraps his fist around it.
I’m not complaining about him getting me off.I’m just saying that he makes it hard to focus on keeping my legs tight together.
He thrusts between them in sync with his hold on my dick, and there’s nothing wrong with his lower body. Not a single thing. No groin strain stops him from setting a pounding rhythmthat I bet makes my boat rock in the water. He’s a hot and sweaty storm of motion who finally shoves so hard against me that I lurch forward.
I’m braced on my hands and knees, and the cabin lights up even brighter. At least, that’s how it seems even without fireworks popping off outside the portholes. Calum is the reason, a thick finger or thumb back inside me all while fisting my dick, and I shoot with no warning.
I wish I got to see him do the same.
I collapse instead, and wet heat spattering my back tells me that I missed it. Before I can roll over, he lands on top to cover me for what feels like forever.
Don’t ask me when the cabin gets darker. I’m vaguely aware that the bed creaks when Calum’s weight lifts off me. He rolls onto his back, and I never imagined crawling over a hockey player to take a turn to crush him, but here I am, cheek mashed against his chest, his heart thudding beneath it much slower than mine. I almost drift off to the rise and fall of his breathing until he rumbles a quiet promise.
“I won’t let you lose.”
I ask, “Lose what?” Which is proof that I just came my brains out.
“Your mum’s cup. After what you did for Reece, I’m gonna make sure you’re the next Juno to win it.”
His lips brush my temple before I can remind him that I’m the one who is meant to be scoring him a ticket to freedom.
I drift instead, but that’s okay.
He’ll be in the UK for at least two more weeks. There’s still time for me to work even harder for him.
12
Calum remindsme of his promise the next morning. His lips brush my shoulder, beard rasping as softly as his voice.
“Morning, winner.” It feels too early to open my eyes, but if a do-over of last night is his version of working harder for me, sign me the fuck up. I’m less in favour of his body heat withdrawing until he promises, “I’ll be right back.”
I doze then to the sound of someone else in my space. Calum is quiet. The door to my tiny bathroom sliding closed behind him hardly registers. I wake for a second time to an even softer instruction. “Time to turn over, beautiful.”
I follow that instruction only to find him crouched next to the incubator to tell a duckling-to-be that it has the prettiest shell in central London.
My own voice is muffled by my pillow. “You just set off a camera.”
“Where?”
I point. “It’s focussed on the egg. What if I leak the footage of you talking to it? Think that will get you out of your contract?”
“Probably not.”
I’m not done yet with trying to solve that puzzle for him. “What if you stole a boat belonging to the River Police? I could video you racing it up and down the Thames until they catch you.”
He grins at the egg. “Nope.”
“Why not?”
He glances my way, and now isn’t the time to tell him his eyes are the same blue as the hidden part of icebergs. Calum doesn’t hide his eye roll. “Because if I end up in prison, I won’t get home for Christmas, will I?” He speaks to the egg about what is blocked out in his calendar for the last week of December. “Not missing that for anything or anybody.”
“You could stage a protest.”
