"Fucking hell."
I bite my lip, shifting onto my knees, my mouth watering as I lean forward. There's something about seeing him like this—strong, powerful Cal undone by desire, by want for me—that makes me bold, that makes me want to push him further, and see how far I can take him before he breaks completely.
"Let me taste you," I whisper, the words a barely audible plea.
He swears, the sound harsh and guttural, and then he's moving, ripping his shirt off over his head in one fluid motion, tossing it aside without care for where it lands. His hands find my hair, fingers threading through it, fisting at the base of my skull, controlling without hurting.
My lips part in anticipation, in silent invitation, and I take him into my mouth. A deep, guttural groan punches from his chest at the first contact, his thighs tensing beneath my hands as I hollow my cheeks, sucking him deep. The taste of him is intoxicating—salt and musk. It’s so purely Cal that makes my head spin, that makes heat pool between my legs.
Fuck.
He's so thick, stretching my lips wide, his skin hot and smooth against my tongue. I can't take all of him—he's too big, too much—but I try, relaxing my throat, taking him as deep as I can.
I glance up, curious to see his reaction, and the sight nearly undoes me.
His abs flex with each breath, every muscle in his body tight with tension and restraint. His jaw is locked, his throat working as he swallows repeatedly.
"Good girl," he breathes, the praise washing over me. "Just like that."
His hands tighten in my hair, guiding me, controlling me, setting a rhythm that I follow eagerly. His hips roll subtly into my mouth, not forceful, not rough, just enough to deepen the sensation, to show his pleasure, his need.
I moan around him, the vibration traveling up his length, making him curse, making his grip tighten in my hair.
"Fuck, pretty girl," he grits out, his voice strained, barely human. "You're gonna kill me."
I dig my nails into his thighs, feeling the powerful muscles jump beneath my touch. I take him deeper, swallowing around him, letting my throat constrict around the head of his cock.
His breath shudders out in a ragged exhale.
He pulls me off him with a grip that's firm but careful, always mindful of his strength. A startled sound escapes me as the connection breaks, my lips swollen and wet, my mind cloudy with lust and confusion.
"Cal?"
He doesn't answer. His eyes are wild, his breathing harsh, his control clearly hanging by a thread. He grabs me, his grip strong but never cruel, hauling me up against him, dragging me toward the bedroom with purposeful strides. I gasp, clutching onto his shoulders for balance as he practically throws me onto the bed.
I bounce slightly on impact, my hair fanning out around me, my skin flushed with need. I barely get a second to orient myself, before he grabs my thighs, spreading me open with strong, sure hands.
His hand grips his cock, the movement deliberate, almost taunting. He drags it over my parted lips, teasing, claiming. My core aches for him, empty and needy, but he's clearly got other intentions. He walks around the bed, leaning over me so that the head of his cock starts to press against my mouth, seeking entrance, demanding submission, and I don't even think before I part my lips, letting him slide inside again.
This time, the position is different.
He's the one standing, towering over me.
He's in control.
His cock pushes deeper, thicker, harder, and all I can do is moan around him, relaxing my throat to take him, staring up at his tight abs flexing above me, at the veins in his arms bulging as he grips the headboard for leverage.
And then his mouth descends on my pussy.
Oh, fuck.
The sudden contact sends a shockwave through me, my whole body twitching from the overload. I claw at his thighs, moaning around his cock, helpless against the way he eats me like he’s been waiting his whole fucking life to taste.
Licking, sucking, fucking wrecking me with his mouth, his tongue, his teeth. He's relentless, merciless, as he drives me toward the edge.
His hips roll in a steady rhythm, fucking my mouth with controlled, deliberate thrusts as his tongue flicks over my clit with expert precision. His groan vibrates against my core as he feels the way I tighten around him, the way my body trembles on the edge of release.
I scream, the sound muffled by his cock, my whole body trembling, so fucking close I can taste it—
"Come for me, pretty girl," he groans, his voice demanding against my sensitive flesh.
And I do.
I break.
It hits hard and fast, pleasure tearing through me in deep, uncontrollable surges. My mouth’s still stretched around his cock, a moan vibrating in my throat as my entire body jerks beneath him. My thighs snap tight around his head, and he doesn't stop—doesn’t even slow down.
My back arches, muscles seizing as I come with a cry I can’t swallow down. He keeps working me through it, tongue dragging every aftershock out of me. My hands claw at the sheets, breath coming in short, ragged bursts. I'm soaked, shaking, and my body feels ruined in the best possible way.
And he’s still between my legs, eating me like he’s not done yet. Like I’m not done yet.
He curses, his body tensing above me, his grip tight on my thighs as he thrusts deep, spilling into my mouth in hot, pulsing waves. The taste of him floods my tongue—bitter, salty, uniquely Cal—and I swallow instinctively, dazed, ruined, completely wrecked by the carnality of the act.
And as my body melts into the mattress, as the aftershocks of pleasure ripple through me, as I feel his weight lift off, his lips pressing against my temple in an oddly tender gesture after such raw passion—
I realize something.
This man still hasn't fucked me.
THERE’S NO VERSION OF THIS WHERE I LET GO
CAL
I'm coming down from the best blowjob of my life, staring into the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen, ready to bask in post-orgasmic bliss with the woman who just wrecked me.
And instead—
I see rage.
Not actual anger, but fierce determination, unbridled passion, and unstoppable resolve flashing in Izzy's eyes as she sits up like she's been possessed.
And then—
She launches herself at me.
"WHY," she wails, her hands on my shoulders, toppling me over as I barely manage to brace myself before we hit the floor with a thud.
I grunt, blinking up at the ceiling, Izzy fully on top of me now, her knees bracketing my hips, her palms pressed against my bare chest as she glares down at me.
"Why what?" I ask, half laughing, half wheezing because she did not hold back.
"WHY WILL YOU NOT SLEEP WITH ME?"
I blink.
Then, I laugh. Full-on, deep-belly, can't-fucking-breathe laughter.
She slaps my chest.
"Cal! This is not funny!"
"It's kind of funny."
She glares harder, scowling. "Do you hate me?"
I grab her wrists, flipping her onto her back in one swift move, pinning her beneath me.
"Yeah, Izzy. I hate you so much that I spent half an hour worshipping your body with my mouth."
Her cheeks flame, but she's not deterred.
"Then why," she grits out, thrashing beneath me, "are you denying me this?"