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Clutching at the bedcovers in my hands, I grip at them, something to anchor me as he moves behind me, leaving me on my knees but further parting my legs with his hands. He comes in from behind, the thick hair of his beard everywhere at once, brushing over my skin. His hot wet mouth covers my pussy, licking and kissing as I cry out.
My back arches as his fingertips dip into my soft flesh, keeping my ass parted as he pleasures me from behind. The orgasm comes from the depths of the sea, hard and fast and rushing like waves crashing in a storm.
Chaos.
I bury my face in the soft covers. I scream his name. I surrender.
The beast has won.
For now.
Chapter Eleven
Callum
Turning the den off the back of the house into a game room was Freya’s idea. She’s the host, not me. I love a good party, but to me, planning one is like having teeth pulled. I like the bigger picture, leaving the finer details to her.
Like this room.
She thought of everything, including this corner for me, knowing I don’t play games. There are tables around the room, one with a shiny black-and-white painted chess board for its top. Open shelves along the walls display colorful games. There is a built-in bar and a popcorn machine for larger gatherings. Tonight, Nan has brought them a tray of snacks and hot chocolate.
I’ll stick with my liquor.
With a whisky in one hand and a cigar in the other, I sit in my black-and-gray checkered chair and watch the girls from my corner of the room.
Wearing black leggings and an oversized pink sweatshirt, Fiona sits lightly on her bottom in her wooden chair. She shifts her weight so as not to sit on the same spot of her punished bottom for too long. She coughs, waving the smoke away. “Maybe we should name the house Smokey Joe’s Cigar Shack.”
Freya snaps at me. “Callum put that thing out. You have a cigar room if you want to smoke.”
Next to my chair is a table with a lamp, offering a soft glow, a perfectly sized coaster for my tumbler, and a stone ashtray for my cigar, carved to depict Odin’s wall of Knowledge. She’s banned me from smoking anywhere in the house other than my cigar room. But she knew I’d smoke. So here Odin is.
Putting out my cigar, I change the subject. “What about Blushing Estates for a house name?” A private joke to myself about the color of Fiona’s spanked bottom.
“Blech! Too girly,” Freya says. She lays her tiles down, a triumphant smile on her face. “T-i-t-a-n. Titan.” She adds up a monstrous number of points.
Fiona stares down at the board, unintimidated. “Hmm…let’s see.” A moment later, she’s laying down the word trumpet, playing off Fiona’s words and accumulating a vast store of points.
Settling back in her chair for Freya’s turn, Fiona thinks. “What about Norse Garden? You’ve done a lovely job bringing your heritage to the home with your renovations and furnishings. And the grounds are so lush. You’ve got all types of plants growing here.”
Freya looks up from the board, tapping a finger against her chin as she mulls. “Norse Garden. It has a nice sound to it, don’t it?”
“Doesn’t it,” I correct her. “Leave that cockney shite talk at work.”
“Och, Callum. I can’t help it if I spend my days in a melting pot of cultures. Unlike you, who’ve only surrounded yourself with tattooed leather-clad men who can barely put together a sentence.” Freya snaps down her tiles, collecting her points.
“They are more than capable of putting together a sentence. They just choose not to. We don’t gossip all day like you lassies,” I say.
“You think I have time for gossip in that office? Please. I’m going over codes, reviewing the law to the letter day in, day out.” She laughs. “Now, at night, that’s a different situation. We girls do love to tell a tale over a shared bottle of wine down at O’Malley’s.”
“I don’t gossip, Callum,” Fiona says softly.
And I know it to be true. Such a sweet, innocent girl. How I’d love to corrupt her.
I take a sip of Frisky Whisky, a smokey, spicy gift from my distillery friend, Fredrick, and return to the name. Norse Garden.
“The name does sound nice, but it needs something heavy to it, telling the general public a man lives here as well.” I run a hand over my beard. “Norse Garden Estate.”
“Aye,” Fiona says. “I love it!”
