Page 26 of Keeping Denver

A predatory smile takes over Callan's face as he flicks the button on my jeans.

"Lay back, Denver." I do as I'm told and lay back against the couch. He then grips my jeans and tugs them over my hips and down my legs, leaving me in just my panties. His eyes darken when his gaze zeroes in on what's between my legs. "I can't wait to get my mouth on this pussy." Sliding his palms up my calves and in between my thighs, Callan spreads my legs wide. "Hold your legs open, Denver. Show me what's mine. Show me what no other man has had the pleasure of tasting or ever will." He inches his face a little closer, and I fight the urge to raise my hips. "Say it, baby. Say I'm the only man who will have this pussy," Callan demands, his nose flaring.

"Only you, Callan."

Hooking the scrap of material covering my pussy with his finger, he moves it aside, exposing me.

"Fucking perfect." The words barely leave his mouth before his tongue takes its first taste. Not expecting the pleasure to feel this exquisite, I scream out his name. "Callan!"

As if his name on my lips fuels his hunger for me, Callan lets out a primal growl, a rumbling from deep within his chest, as he rips the panties from my body. Clutching my ass in the palms of his hands, he brings my pussy to his mouth and feasts on me. Callan licks and nips at my center just before his tongue delves inside of me, taking all I have to give. That's it; that is all it takes for the pressure that has been building inside me to explode into his mouth. My orgasm rips through my soul as flashes of light dance behind my eyelids.

"Look at me, Denver. Open your eyes and watch." At his command, I open my eyes in time to watch as Callan reaches behind his neck, tugging his shirt off over his head, revealing the tattoo I've seen peeking through the collar of his dress shirts on several occasions. His tattoo is of two black and grey hawks. With them are the initials K.H. The design is intricate and spans his whole right shoulder and over his peck. If I had to guess, I'd say the tattoo is a representation of his last name. My eyes travel south to where he is lowering the zipper of his jeans and pulls them down just enough for his length to spring free. I look on, hypnotized at the way his hand works his cock.

Curious as to how it would feel in my hands, I ask, "Can I do it?"

"You never have to ask to touch me, baby."

Reaching between my spread legs, I wrap my hand around Callan's cock. It's hard, smooth, and just as big as I imagined. I watch as a pearl of pre-cum settles at the tip, and I swipe it with the tip of my thumb, my action causing him to hiss. "Squeeze it tight, baby. Just like that." I work his cock up and down, paying close attention to his reactions. "I'm about to come. Spread your legs wider and let me cum all over that pretty pussy."

Opening my legs wider, I continue stroking him, until the head of his cock swells. Callan lets out a throated growl as jets of cum spills, covering my sex. I swear I almost come again at the sight of his warm release coating my skin.

Not caring about the sticky mess between us, Callan pulls my body against his, and I wrap my legs around his hips once more. I glide my palms up and down his sweaty back and can't resist tilting my head back and kissing his neck. It doesn't take long before I feel his cock swell once again between us. And when Callan thrusts his hips forward, the tip brushes against my clit.

Needing more, I begin to grind myself against him, meeting him thrust for thrust, as his long thick cock continues to work my clit. "That's it. Come for me again. Come all over my cock." This time Callan doesn't allow my eyes to close when my orgasm hits for a second time. He grips my chin with one hand, while he holds my body flush against his with the other, forcing my eyes to stay on his as he too crashes over the edge.

* * *

The next morning, we are sitting in the back of his car on our way to the office, as I drown out Callan's voice while he barks orders over the phone. So much has happened and I feel like my brain has yet to catch up. First, there is Callan, who up until two days ago I thought didn't like me and merely tolerated my existence. Now, he has declared me his, and has pretty much taken over my life. He's given me a place to live, and bought me clothes. My life has suddenly become a fairytale. There's a part of me that is still airing on the side of caution. Still leery to fully trust the whirlwind I'm caught up in. It feels as though this is all a dream and I'm going to wake up and be thrust back into the nightmare my life was before Callan plucked my weary body off the cold city street.

Before I know it, the car stops in front of Callan's building, and I find him looking at me expectantly while holding a large orange box with HERMES scrolled across the lid. "Callan…"

"I know what you're going to say, Denver, but I got it for you anyway. Please, baby. Take it." Callan places the box on my lap.

"This is too much, Callan. You've gotten me so much already. Much more than one person needs. To think how many people could be helped with the money you've spent on me in the past couple of days…"

"We can discuss those thoughts later. Please, open the box." Callan asks.

With shaky hands, I lift the lid to reveal a Togo Gold Hermes Birkin bag. My eyes widen in shock. "It's gorgeous Callan, but I can't accept this." I shake my head. "You don't have to buy me things like this. You know I would have been content with a twenty-dollar handbag."

"I know you would. That's one of the reasons I got you this. Because you don't expect lavish gifts. The second reason is that you deserve the best. So, that is what you will get."

Turning back to the box on my lap, I pull the purse out and run my hands along the smooth feel of the leather. It is a beautiful bag. I've never held something so luxurious in my hands before. Then I feel guilty knowing the price he must have paid for it. His money would do better elsewhere, like helping out the people down at the shelter.

"I had Mitch pick you up a new ID," Callan nods toward his driver. "It's in the wallet."

Looking in the bag, I grab the wallet inside and open it. Sure enough, there is a new ID, along with a black credit card with the name Callan Hawk on it.

"What's this for?"

"It's yours to use however you want," Callan shrugs.

"I make my own money, Callan. I don't need it."

Callan's face softens. "I know you do, baby. Keep it anyway, just in case."

"Fine," I huff.

Callan smiles, liking the fact he has won yet another battle, and I roll my eyes. "Come on, let's go." Callan grabs my hand as he goes to slide out of the car. I stop him.