She got distracted while online shopping for Regan and swerved down the road of shopping for Callum. She told herself this was because it was her queenly duty to buy her king Christmas gifts. But it really wasn’t. He looked good in clothes and she found she enjoyed buying them for him. So much so, she searched for evidence of his size (and found his clothes hung in her closet, his toiletries put tidily away in her bathroom and noted Julianna had been busy) and in the end maybe went a bit overboard.
She eventually finished buying presents for all the new entries on her Christmas List, even Julianna and Diana, both of whom she found she liked tremendously, though she couldn’t quite say why. She wrapped the ones she purchased for Callum’s family that day and headed to bed.
She put on her nightgown and left on her panties, defying Callum’s order to be naked. Firstly, because she didn’t like sleeping naked, though she didn’t mind it last night. Then again, she slept the sleep of abandoned contentment. Secondly, because she may be his queen and her duties may be extensive but he gosh darn couldn’t tell her what to wear, especially not to bed. No, strike that, he couldn’t tell her what to wear anytime.
She finished lotioning and oiling her face, feet, hands and cuticles. And, with the hum of deep, male voices plotting in her dining room (something Sonia vaguely recognized that was tremendously weird but she had had a lot of weird recently and now it didn’t even penetrate), Sonia switched off her light. She cuddled her stuffed wolf and stared at her tree.
And she came to the realization, as the hum of voices and the twinkling of the lights lulled away her panic (and expectation), that she’d drifted through her thirty-seven years of life in a fog.
Losing her parents so young, knowing in an integral way she was more than a little bit strange and, if people knew the things she could do, they might even fear her, Sonia had never thought to dream.
Considering she had to hide her gifts from everyone, she never fantasized about who her husband would be, what their life would be like, how many children she’d have, because how would she go about living that kind of lie?
Therefore, she never considered living with another person and deciding who would do the cooking and who would take out the trash. She never thought about how she and her partner would argue and how they would make up. Where they’d go on vacation. If she’d get impatient with him watching too many sports on TV and if he’d get impatient because it took her too long to get ready. She never pictured a time when, together, they brought out the boxes of Christmas decorations and littered the house with them. Year by year adding precious memories, purchasing new ornaments to put on their tree and sharing moments that would be cherished.
She’d bought her white-picket fence farmhouse knowing she’d be the only one living in it and shrouding her disappointment that she was fated to live her life alone.
But now, she thought sleepily, having dreamed of Callum so long (an indication of her destiny before she even knew it was her destiny), she realized she did have fantasies of what her life would be like. They were as unobtainable as her dream Callum was (she thought then and she still did). But the feelings she had with Callum in those dreams, that was what she would have wanted to nurture in her real life, if it had been possible.
Not this.
Never this.
She took in a breath and let it out in one long, sad sigh, closed her eyes, clutched her wolf close and fell asleep.
* * * * *
She awoke with Callum’s mouth between her legs over her panties, the urge already upon her, overwhelming her, wresting away her control.
She fought it with her mind but, even as she did, her h*ps pressed up to meet his mouth as she emitted a low whimper and the throb between her legs started to devour her.
Callum’s mouth lifted away but his finger replaced it, drifting light as a feather against the fabric of her panties, causing a sensual torment.
“I thought I told you to go to bed naked,” Callum’s deep voice vibrated between her legs and she whimpered again. Her hands going to his hair to press him back. Her h*ps pushing against the light touch of his finger. Her ni**les, already hard, straining against the fabric of her nightgown causing such pleasure, it was torture.
“You defy me?” he asked, still denying her his mouth.
“Callum,” she whispered.
“Answer me,” he commanded and she pressed up again, seeking his mouth, keeping her silence, the Sonia she knew trying to beat back the Sonia that he created.
And failing.
He shifted her underwear aside and two fingers penetrated her, not gently, brutally, and she moaned at the beauty of it, needing it, wanting it, having throbbed for it all day.
“Answer me, Sonia,” he demanded.
“I…” she whimpered and for a brief moment the Sonia she’d been her whole life surfaced, breaking through the urge. “You can’t tell me what to wear.”
His fingers slid out then they thrust back in and she moaned, the urge rushed back, stronger than before and she lifted her h*ps to meet them.
“My queen likes to play rough,” he growled, sounding pleased.
“No, I –” she began but his fingers pulled out and hooked at the gusset of her panties. With a vicious wrench, the fabric tore in several places and the panties were gone.
She gasped but his big hands slid along her inner thighs, gripping her behind her knees, lifting them to fully bent and spreading her legs wide, boldly exposing her.
Sonia felt vulnerable for a moment before his mouth came down on her and all feelings evaporated except the exquisite pulse accelerating between her legs.
He wasn’t gentle with his mouth either. He was hungry, insatiable, feeding on her with his lips, his tongue, even his teeth, causing Sonia to lose any hold she had left on her true self as her body forced her to give into the urge.
She was panting, rocking her h*ps against his mouth, spreading her legs ever wider to give him access. Greedy for him, for what he could make her feel, reaching out and embracing the creature he could make her be. The creature, something buried inside her told her, she was meant to be.
She slid close to the edge, no longer scared of the enormity of it, ready to let it take her, needing for it to consume her so she could exist in her skin the way she was intended to. The way she only did in these times with Callum. She cried out and, the instant she did, his mouth disappeared and she was yanked from the edge.
“Callum!” she exclaimed her protest but he wasn’t leaving her.
He was over her, his weight settling into her and she gloried in it. Feeling the promise of him a scant second before he reared his h*ps back and impaled her, f**king her like she loved it, slamming into her violently, filling her full, again and again and again.