I was so taken with images of her that when she finally lifted those crystal gray eyes to me, it seized me whole. I completely felt perplexed.
“Is that what you want, Cal?” she whispered; voice little, fragile even.
Her wispy voice nailed a thorn inside me. In this instant, all the rationale, uncertainties, the good and bad intentions, beliefs, weaknesses and happiness dulled away and I entirely became… unguarded.
My forehead rested against hers as I listened to our hearts thud with wild eagerness. The tip of my nose connected with hers. Our lips brushed, motionless. “Stella.” The tip of my wet tongue darted out, wetting my bottom lip, but as it did so, it also tasted her champagne coated one.
Like a truly addicted drunkard—intoxicated, bewildered and simply couldn’t resist temptation—my tongue sat on her bottom lip. From the inside, it traced the outline of her lips. From the bottom to the top, rounding it in a full circle, tasting her luscious lips with newfound hunger. “Stella,” I whispered her name again. Drunk. Hypnotized.
She trembled against me. Lifting my hand, I let my fingers caress her cheek. Each stroke on her soft, silken skin charged towards the powerful magnetic pull I had been avoiding.
It compelled me closer; bringing me to a close as my bottom lip softly kissed hers, ever so slowly. The feeling was exhilarating, even more so when I first took her in bed, consummating our marriage.
My lips softly pried hers open, seeking more. More of her taste. Just more of her.
We kissed. It was soft, gentle and unrushed, as though we had all the time in the world to kiss and get drunk off each other. In this heated moment, all I knew was one thing; from the root of her head to the tips of her dainty toes, Stella was mine.
All.
Fucking.
Mine.
Chapter 22
Stella
Callum was kissing me. The full on, no holds barred, toe curling, root zapping, earth-shifting kiss I had craved for so long. My God, my imagination had been fully surpassed with how it truly was to be kissed by him.
I knew he was a passionate man, but this—kissing Callum—eclipsed everything I had ever experienced with any man.
Callum cradled my face with his hand while the other held the back of my neck. I groaned wantonly when that hand took hold of my hair and gently pulled it down so my lips inclined to his, aiming for deeper strokes.
Piece by piece, his kiss soothed my wounds. It lulled my punctured heart and my lost hope was instantly revived. Each kiss was carnal, rushed and yet precise to make me burn hotter. It compelled me to yearn for all of him. That gnawing ache only growing. What little shield I had placed to distance myself, vanished.
Callum’s lovemaking rendered me an addict.
His heated touch brought a feral aphrodisiac.
However his kiss took the prize because it simply was, undeniably, my most omnipotent weakness of all.
It unequivocally changed me.
A sexy, hungry, humming sound came from him as he applied more pressure in his kiss. It didn’t help with my beyond peaked, stimulated senses.
Pressing my aching br**sts against his hard chest, I let my hand inside his jacket and wandered south. My fingers slowly lavished on his honed body as it enjoyed each ridge of his chiseled abdomen. I held my breath as it travelled lower, heading towards the nether region.
Callum made another throaty, aching noise when he felt my hand softly kneading his balls and the base of his shaft. “I ache to be inside you,” he spoke against my lips. “But we have to wait until we get home. I want to taste you slowly.” He pressed his hips harder against my hand. “I want to savor that first stroke, that feeling as I enter your slick pu**y, fitting me like a glove.”
Dammit. “You want me to wait until we get home after you just illicitly described all that? You must be nuts!” I didn’t want to sound desperate or like some trollop who was in dire need of a scratch, but hell, what did he expect when he’d ravished me on the spot?
“We have to get through tonight. I promise, once we step inside the bedroom, I’m going to seize your body until your mind is shut off and all you can do is feel me taking everything from you. I want to f**k you like I’m robbing you of your pride, your rights and your ability to object from the abuse your getting from my cock.” Callum gave me a soft kiss, measured and calculated, before he drifted his gaze into my gray ones. “I want you smothered by it, by me. All of me…” he murmured, thumb grazing my bottom lip. “I need you to need me… as much as I you.”
I did need him, but to a much grander scale. However, I didn’t voice that out.
Callum held me awhile, lips pressing against my forehead as we tried to lower down our libidinous bodies. Though we didn’t speak, the silence we shared was a comfortable one. Moments like these I treasured greatly. It was simple, uncomplicated and sweet.
Even with all these people here for the event, this tiny corner was hidden and tucked away from prying eyes.
Sighing softly, I brushed my lips against the side of his neck, kissing it.
“Ready?” he asked, looking at me with passion in his eyes.
Yeah, we definitely lit each other up with kisses. “Ready,” I responded with dizzy excitement. With shaky legs, Callum held me as he guided us inside the grand soiree.
It was electrifying to see him look at me this way… and the things he mentioned earlier about needing him... One way or another, I somehow had made a dent in his armor. The dent might be small, but I hoped the impact was long lasting.
I hoped… with that look in his eyes, I sure did hope… that maybe—just maybe—it would work out between us.
~S~
The Claridge’s Ballroom was a marvel of pristine white surroundings, cream tablecloths, hints of gold with mirrors placed strategically throughout the room to imbibe that refreshingly light, airy feel. It had that Victorian era influence meshed with modern Art Deco; the end result was an astonishing splendor.
After our kiss, everything seemed to rush past me. When Callum introduced me to some of his acquaintances, I didn’t even bother trying to register their names in my brain. Nothing mattered then except for him; for I truly and devastatingly, was swooning and spinning about in my own dreamland.
Once we were seated accordingly, we both got engrossed talking to the other guests that we were sharing a table with. No one seemed to mind or question my relations with him. For that I was relieved. It would be rather awkward to say that I was engaged to him and yet, in reality, I was ecstatic because my pseudo fiancé had just managed to kiss me and turned me into a lovesick idiot.