Page 41 of Fallacies

Callan watches as if he’s mesmerized by the way it looks, and I hope he’s taking in the sight of me before him—kneeling in front of this chair he hates so much.

“Chaos,” Callan warns, voice tight in barely leashed restraint.

“This is your memory,” I remind him, rubbing my finger over the bead of moisture that has gathered at the tip. “How do you want to remember it?” I lick my thumb on instinct, holding his gaze as I do, and something jolts awake in his eyes. Something unleashed.

With a haunting slowness, Callan wraps my hair around his knuckles, tightening until my heart beats so fast I almost change my mind. Almost. But I’m no quitter, and I know what I’m asking for…I think.

“Okay, Lucina,” he relents, but his voice has a new edge to it. It’s low and smooth, like silk over my skin. “Deep breath.”

Gods.

I’m not sure there is a breath deep enough for what I’ve just signed up for, but the speculation is irrelevant when he thrusts past my parted lips and hits the farthest wall of my throat.

I swear I see stars.

The most beautiful stars I’ve ever seen, actually. Glittering through the instant tears that well in my eyes.

My body comes alive at the movement, and judging by the way he’s gripping my hair, bucking his hips without a single restraint, I’m certain his has too. Heat singes my veins, dancing over the fire crackling in my core, and the outside of my skin prickles like static. As if being this full of him comes with being full of his power too. So much power. Mighty and sovereign and fatal.

All for me.

“Eyes.”

I look up between thrusts, tears slipping down my cheeks, but this is exactly what I wanted. Him. Unrestrained and unapologetic. For once in his life, not worrying about anything other than what he wants. And it’s thrilling to watch him take it.

Whatever Callan sees in my watery stare makes him groan. He takes himself so deep and slow that I whimper at the stretch.

“Cin,” he breathes, and my thighs begin to shake, the need to slip a hand into my shorts almost overwhelming. It’s the way his voice sounds and the way he watches me—as if there’s nothing in this world he’d rather look at.

“Dammit, you love this, don’t you?” Callan grits out, picking up the pace. Slamming his hips faster. More beautiful stars dance across my vision. “You love what you do to me.”

I do.

Another tear falls down my hollowed cheeks, and his head falls back, the column of his throat exposed. I wrap a hand around the base, taking back control as I lift, swirl my tongue around the crown, then take him deeply once more.

I manage much-needed breaths in between, repeating the movement until his grip in my hair tightens and his hips stutter. When I meet his heated gaze again, there’s a warning in his stare.

Callan tugs on my hair, trying to lift me up, but I swat his hand away.

I’m. Not. A quitter.

“Fuck,” Callan curses, spilling himself down my throat with one last, brutal thrust. Somehow, his release shoves me closer towards mine, and my thighs squeeze together on instinct. Another moan slips out and Callan’s hips buck.

“Lucina, please,” he begs, tugging on my hair. “You’re gonna kill me.”

I swallow as I pull back, huffing a laugh at the way his jaw slackens. I’m about to stand when Callan surges forward to kiss me.

Spots still dancing in my vision, my head spins with the intensity of it, and I gasp when he drags his teeth across my heavy lips. Callan murmurs something against them and hooks his fingers in the waistband of my shorts.

I grab his wrists before he can get any further. “This isn’t about me,” I tell him.

He slides his hands up my waist. “I promise I can make it about both of us.”

I scoff, my smile lingering as I dodge his quick hands and stand on unstable legs. “I’m sure you can.” And I’m sure it would be amazing. “But I need breakfast, and we have a date with your ex-girlfriend,” I remind him.

Callan groans, falling back in his chair as if he’d forgotten what we had to do today.

I grab the book I’d been reading and round the desk, heading for the door. “I’m going to shower.”