He didn’t hesitate, didn’t even blink, just let out a low growl likefuck yes,and suddenly I was airborne, lifting me as if I weighed nothing and he’d been waiting to throw me down since the second I sat in his lap.
The desk was cold against my thighs—nothing like the molten heat of his body as he claimed the space between my legs like he fucking owned it. My hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more of the dizzying kiss that made the rest of the world fall away.
His calloused palms skimmed over my skin, rough and addictive, sending sparks straight to my clit as he yanked my top and bra down in one greedy motion. My fingers fumbled with his buttons, hungry to see what I’d only fantasized about in stolen glances andTikTokthirst traps.
When his shirt hit the floor, I just stared. His body was all lean power and coiled strength—he was every dream I shouldn’t have had.
Miami had been drunken chaos—sweat, mouths, teeth. Passionate, heated moments in which I never reallylooked.
Now I devoured him with my eyes.
Every sculpted muscle. Everyfuckableinch of him. Every reason I knew I’d never recover from tonight. I scraped my fingernails over his abs, leaving red lines behind and marking my presence on his body.
“God, Auri,” he rasped, staring down at me like he wanted to swallow me whole. His eyes were wild. Starving. My breasts were bared to him, denim mini skirt bunched up by my hips, heels dangling from my feet.
“I need you,” I whispered, voice breaking with need. “Now.”
He lowered his head, his mouth hot on my flesh, each kiss a brand, each nip a claim. Every thought of rivalry, every memory of competition, was nonexistent.
Callum’shands slid down my sides, his fingertips tracing the hem of my panties. “Fucking pink.”
That filthy smirk of his burned through me.
“You remembered,” I gasped, thighs tightening instinctively, my hands falling behind me to brace myself on the desk.
“Unforgettable,” he growled.
Then he kissed me like he was going to destroy the memory of every man who ever touched me before him.
“How long have you been wet for me?” he whispered, fingers teasing the soaked outline of my panties like he already knew the answer.
Oh yeah. Filthy. Unfiltered. Possessive. Definitely a dirty talker.
Right up my alley.
My eyes fluttered open and met his pale blues with the pupils blown out, challenging him. “You really want to know?”
He nodded.
“Guess,” I breathed, already grinding down as his hand slipped beneath the lace.
His fingers found my clit, and I gasped. Not shy. Not tentative. Fucking perfect. His fingers were firm as he stroked me, his thumb pressing down just right on that little bundle of nerves that would send me over the edge quickly if he didn’t let up—a result of all that goddamn teasing downstairs.
“All night,” he growled.
My head fell back. “Longer,” I whimpered.
His other hand tangled in my hair and pulled just enough to tilt my face up to his. “How long,Aurélie?” His voice dropped, demanding and hot enough to melt the goddamn desk under me.
I gave him a mischievous grin as my hips bucked wildly beneath him, each movement a plea for more. His fingers were magic, drawing out a response from a part of me that I never knew existed, bringing me close to the edge. “Guess,” I whispered again.
He slipped a finger inside me, never breaking eye contact, and my pussy convulsed around him. “Since Miami?”
I placed one hand on his shoulder to give me leverage to grindagainst his hand, but he slowed his motions. “Don’t stop.” I panted. “Please, please—fuck—please.”
Callumhummed. “I like when you beg,Dubois. But if you want more, you’ll answer the question.”
“Miami just made it worse,” I admitted through gritted teeth, sexually frustrated and chasing a fading orgasm. “It was fast, messy, too much and not enough at the same time. And then I kicked you out before I could even wrap my head around it.”
