Because He Steals Me (Because He Owns Me #6) (2 page)

He kept me on my hands and knees for two hours, eating me, sucking me, fingering me, fucking me. The whole time my pussy was spread for him, the steel bar between my ankles leaving me helpless and at his mercy as took me to the brink over and over again before pulling back. It was the most exquisite torture I’d ever experienced in my life.

“Are you ready to come, Adriana?” he finally asked. He was standing in front of me, stroking his rock hard dick onto my face while I sucked his balls hungrily.

“Yes,” I groaned.

“Beg me.”

“Please, Callum, I want to come.” My voice didn’t sound like my own, the pleading and desperation so evident that if I weren’t so eager for him to make me come and put me out of my misery, I would have been embarrassed.

Callum walked around behind me, then slapped my ass hard before entering me in one full stroke. He reached down and grabbed my chin, pulling my upper body up toward his, so that my back was against his hard, muscular chest as he pounded into me from behind.

“Say my name.”

“Callum.” I knew he loved it when I said his name while he fucked me, so I said it again, wanting nothing more than to turn him on, to be good for him, to give him even half the pleasure he was giving me. “Callum.”

“Tell me I own you.”

“You own me.”

He grabbed my chin and pushed his thumb into my mouth, hooking it into my cheek and pulling so hard it hurt. My tits bounced with each thrust of his cock, and Callum turned my head, forcing me to look at them. “Look at those tits bounce, baby. Look at how hard I’m ramming that tight little pussy.”

I groaned.

Finally, he released me, pushing me back down onto the bench roughly and grabbing my hips, bucking into me harder and harder.

“Come,” he commanded.

As soon as he said the words, the most intense orgasm I’d ever had roared through me, cresting and swelling throughout my entire body as Callum continued fucking me.

“Shit, baby. That pussy’s so good I’m going to have to come all over it.”

I groaned as he held me down against the bench and pulled his cock out of me, exploding all over my spread pussy, shot after shot of warmth that covered my skin and roped the back of my legs.

He laid on top of me for a moment, spreading his body over mine, covering me, holding me, his muscular biceps wrapping around me and making me feel safe.

“Adriana,” he whispered into my ear. “Oh my God, Adriana.”

I didn’t trust myself to speak, the emotion in the room so intense it almost felt alive. You would have thought that the dirtiness of what we’d just done would have made it feel wrong or taken some of the feeling out of it.

But it was the opposite.

By giving myself to him the way I had, by trusting him the way I had, it only served to deepen the bond between us.

I shivered as he pulled his body from mine. A second later, he removed the spreader bar from my ankles.

I turned over on the bench so that I was lying on my back. I stared up at the ceiling as my pulse began to slow to its normal rate.

Callum appeared next to me. “Jesus Christ, you are beautiful.” He ran his finger down the side of my body slowly. “I’m getting hard again just looking at you.”

He reached down and took my hands, placed them around his neck, and then picked me up, carrying me into the bathroom as I squealed and nestled my head against his chest.

He turned the shower on and then kissed my lips softly as the steam from the water rolled in around us. “Was I… Was it too much?” he whispered.

I shook my head. “No. It wasn’t too much.”

“In the moment, it’s… I told you, I can’t control it.” His eyes searched my face for any kind of doubt, any sign that what had just happened wasn’t okay with me.

But he wasn’t going to find it.

I had never been more sure of anything in my life.

“I’m okay.”

He nodded, then kissed me again and led me into the shower. The hot water slid over our bodies as he began washing me.

His hands were gentle, soft, strong, taking care with my raw skin even as he made sure to clean every part of me, from my hair all the way down to my feet.

When we were done, he wrapped me in a towel, then dressed me in one of his t-shirts and brought me to bed.

He held me tight, kissing the back of my neck and snuggling me close. “Are you hungry?” he asked. The backs of his fingers brushed my forearm absentmindedly, and I shivered and pushed closer to him, warming myself with his body heat.

I shook my head. “No. I’m not hungry.”

“You’re sleepy?”

“No.”

“Liar.” He was playing with my hair now. “You can sleep if you want.”

“What will you do?”

“Hold you.”

I smiled. “Hold me while I sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because now that I have you, I’m never letting you go.”

W
hen I woke the next morning, Callum was wrapped around me, seemingly in the same position that we’d been in last night, his strong arms holding me tight, our legs tangled together under the sheets.

“’Morning, sleepy,” he said, and stretched.

I turned over to get a better look, admiring the lines of his body, the smooth planes of his chest, his narrow hips and chiseled abs.

He reached for me again, pulling me to him, and I could feel him harden against me as he began to kiss my neck.

I closed my eyes and sighed contentedly. I tilted my head back, enjoying the feel of his body against mine and the brush of his lips on my skin.

A second later, the alarm on my cell phone echoed through the room, breaking the moment – I’d set it for six-thirty yesterday while I was still at work, so I could make sure I wasn’t late again.

“Sorry,” I said sheepishly. I reached for my phone and suddenly I was shy, gathering the sheets around my body as they slipped down around me. I knew Callum seen every part of me (he’d had me on a freakin’ spreader bar for God’s sake!), but something about being exposed to him now, in the light of day, made me self-conscious.

“No phones.” Callum took my cell from my hand and tossed it onto the bed just out of my reach. He rolled on top of me, his muscular thighs pinning my hips, his hands grabbing at my wrists, forcing them over my head and holding me down.

“I have to go to work,” I said, giggling and squirming underneath him.

“Why?”

“Um, because I have a job?”

“You don’t need a job.” He lowered his mouth to my neck and kissed me there again, his tongue flicking against my skin. My body responded instantly, my nerve endings igniting, my core aching.

“Yes, I do.”

“Why?”

“Because people need to work.”

“I have plenty of money for both of us.” He skated his lips down over my collarbone.

“I have to work,” I said, giggling, and squirmed out from under him. Callum reached for me, but before he could pull me back into bed my eyes fell on something that was laid out on the bench.

It looked like an outfit -- a long black pencil skirt and a button-up white blouse with a black cardigan.

“What is that?” I asked, standing there with the sheets clutched around my body.

Callum followed my gaze. “Your clothes.”

I walked over and ran my hand over the soft material of the skirt. “Where did you get them? These aren’t mine.”

“They belong to you.”

“No, I mean…they’re not from my apartment.”

“I had them sent over.”

“So I wouldn’t have to go home and change?”

“No. Because I’ll be in charge of what you wear from now on.”

“Oh.” I swallowed around the lump in my throat, suddenly unsettled, although I didn’t know why. Callum had told me he was going to take control of every aspect of my life. I’d read the freakin’ contract for God’s sake, I’d understood all the things he expected of me. And yet, now that I was faced with it, it was different. Giving myself over to him sexually was one thing – that was easy. My natural inclination was to do that, to let him play my body and use it in whatever way he desired. But him telling me what to wear? My instincts on that told me it was messed up and wrong.

“Adriana?” Callum stood and crossed the room to me. “What is it?”

“It’s just… I mean, it’s kind of weird, you picking my outfit.”

“You don’t like the outfit?”

“No, the outfit is beautiful.” I glanced back down at it. It was gorgeous, the fabrics obviously expensive, everything beautifully cut and chic. “It’s just strange that you chose it.”

He tugged at the sheet around me, sliding it down my shoulders. Jealousy blazed in his eyes. “I don’t want anyone looking at you.”

“Who would look at me?”

“Other men.”

“So you have to choose what I wear?”

“I own your body. And I don’t want anyone else seeing any part of it.”

I bit my lip. This was so messed up! I mean, talk about red flags
. But you knew this was how it would be. You knew when you signed that contract last night what you were agreeing to.

“Do not make me punish you,” Callum growled, and his hands tightened on my bare shoulders.

I opened my mouth to speak, to tell him I didn’t need to be punished, that I would do what he said, that I would play by his rules. But before I could, there was a horrible crashing sound, followed immediately by the sound of breaking glass.

Callum was on top of me in an instant, pushing me down to the floor and covering me with his body as a shower of shattered glass rained down over us. Something hit the floor next to me, hard and heavy, the thudding sound it generated so loud I could feel it reverberating through my body.

It seemed like forever, but it was probably only a few seconds before it was all over.

I opened my eyes, blinking them until the room came into focus.

A brick.

There was a
freakin’ brick
a foot from my face. Someone had thrown it through the window.

“Don’t move,” Callum commanded. “There’s glass all over.”

He removed his body from mine and and stood up. I stayed still, like he’d told me to.

He surveyed the scene, then reached down, slid his hands underneath my knees and scooped me up, carrying me out of the broken glass and to the bed, where he sat me down gently on the edge of the mattress.

“What the
hell?”
The adrenaline coursed through my veins as I took in the carnage. The window was completely gone. Not just shattered, but gone, the entire pane of glass in shards on the floor.

“Are you okay?” Callum was kneeling in front of me, running his hands over my body, inspecting me for wounds or cuts, turning my hands over in his.

“Yes. I’m okay. That was just… holy crap, that was scary. Who would do something like that, throw a brick through your window?”

Jason.
Of course! It had to have been him. Had he been following me last night after all? Had I led him right to Callum’s apartment? Before I could voice my fear, my gaze fell on Callum’s bare back. It was covered in shards of glass. “Oh my God, Callum, you’re bleeding.”

He glanced over his shoulder absentmindedly. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.” I leaned down to take a closer look. His back was covered in pieces of glass, some of which were embedded in his skin. Blood oozed from the wounds, one of them so hard and deep it formed a crevice, blood flowing in a rivulet down his spine. I sucked in a breath. “You’re hurt.”

He stood up and walked to the bathroom. I grabbed the shirt he’d been wearing last night and tossed it over myself, then followed him to the bathroom, and stood in the doorway, watching him.

Callum turned and glanced at his back in the mirror. “Shit,” he swore. He opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled out a first aid kit, then went to work on the glass with a pair of tweezers.

“You need to see a doctor.” There was no way he was going to be able to take care of that himself, not with some crappy first aid kit.

“No.”

“You’re never going to be able to get all the glass out.” I cringed as I watched him pulling the shards out with the tweezers. It looked extremely painful. And yet he never winced, never flinched, never showed the slightest sign that he was hurting.
He did that for me,
I thought.
He’d protected me. If he really wanted to hurt me, if he was really bad for me, would he have done something like that?

“I’ll get it out.”

“Let me do it,” I said, walking into the bathroom and reaching for the tweezers.

“No.”

“Callum. You’re acting crazy. If you’re not going to go to the doctor, then at least let me help you.”

He sighed and held the tweezers out to me grudgingly, then turned around.

“Oh, Callum,” I breathed. He’d actually done a good job of getting the glass out, but his back was still a mess. I grabbed a bunch of antiseptic wipes from the first aid kit and wiped away the blood. “We need to call the police.”

“No.” He shook his head again. “No police.”

“What do you mean, no police? Of course we have to call the police! If this guy is going to start taking things to the next level, if he’s going to throw a
freakin’ brick
through your window, then we have to make sure the police know about him.”

“What guy?”

“Jason!” The antiseptic wipes had cleared most of the blood from Callum’s back, and had also helped to get rid of some of the smaller shards of glass, the tiny particles that would have been impossible to find with the tweezers. But he needed to go to the hospital. I wasn’t a doctor, and I couldn’t be sure I was getting every last piece of glass out.

Callum glanced over his shoulder, inspecting the work I was doing. “It wasn’t Jason who did that, Lemon.”

“Of course it was!” I bit my lip as I looked at the biggest shard of glass that had fallen on him. It was embedded deep in his flesh, right between his shoulder blades. “Hold still,” I said. “This is going to hurt.” I sucked in a breath and steeled myself, then pulled it out. But again, Callum didn’t flinch or show any sign of discomfort.

“That’s enough,” he declared as I began to open another antiseptic wipe. He picked up a gauze pad, one of those big ones that was designed to cover a large area. He ripped a piece of gauze tape off the roll with his teeth. “Put the gauze on me now.”