With Everything I Am (25 page)

At her words, he buried himself inside her silken wetness and exploded with a guttural snarl, feeling an intensity he’d never experienced. It was akin to the change to wolf, it was like exploding out of his skin.

And the power of it was startling and magnificent.

When he recovered he released her hair but held her hips and continued to thrust gently inside her. She’d collapsed on her front, her head in the pillows, her hair fanning everywhere, her breathing still labored. She continued to offer her sweet ass to him as he tenderly plunged inside her, her hips angled up and pressing, encouraging, a loving invitation, a tender capitulation, a beautiful reminder that she belonged to him.

He glided a hand from her hip, over her bottom and up to his chain which had slid high up her back, catching under her breasts. He tugged it down where it caught lightly on her hips so he could remind his mate of its presence, something he never wanted her to forget. Then, still thrusting, slower and slower, he trailed his fingers along the chain at the small of her back.

Her body shivered under his as the walls of her sex trembled delicately around his shaft.

Callum forced his hips into hers, taking her off her knees, pinning her to the bed on her belly, his cock still inside her, her legs spreading pleasingly wide to accommodate him.

The change wasn’t upon him anymore. His blood not boiling, his skin heated only from fucking his gloriously sweet, pretty, perfect little mate.

As was the reason for her existence, she’d sated him.

And, he was realizing with fierce satisfaction, she did it beautifully every fucking time.

Content, he placed his forearms into the bed at her sides to settle some of his weight off her body. He used his chin to shift her hair away from her face and, at her ear, pressing deep inside her one last time, he muttered, “My glorious queen, I told you we’d have a beautiful life, you and I.”

And, with his still hard cock buried deep inside his queen, Callum, king of the wolves, fell asleep while the Christmas lights from Sonia’s tree cast a glow on their connected bodies.

Chapter Eleven

Scales

Still mostly asleep, Sonia’s hazy consciousness registered the covers slowly sliding down her body.

She was on her belly. Even motionless she could feel the delicious ache in every single muscle and a luscious throbbing between her legs that was a vague ache but a greater feeling of gratification. The ache was the ghost of Callum pounding inside her, the gratification was the reminder of being headily stuffed full.

Her eyes fluttered open then closed as she felt the fleeting touch on the skin of her upper buttocks where the needles were jabbed for her injections.

This fleeting touch became a different kind as if lips were trailing there.

She sighed at the beauty of it and momentarily melted back to sleep.

Then she felt strong fingers grasp her hips and she was gently rolled, arms came around her and she was lifted.

She nuzzled into Callum’s warm, hard, weirdly fully-clothed body, tucking her face in his neck and seeking slumber as he settled into the bed, his back to the headboard, his knees cocked, Sonia snug in his lap.

“Sonia?” he called and her eyelids fluttered again.

“So sleepy,” she whispered, cuddling closer, one of her arms bent and pressed between them, the other hand resting on his massive chest.

“I know, baby doll,” he murmured, his arms growing tight for an instant then she felt his temple glide lovingly against her hair.

“I like it when you do that,” she told him, pressing her nose to his neck for a moment then settling and sighing, exhaustion and the heavy ache of her body calling her back to sleep.

“When I mark you?” She heard him ask through her waning consciousness.

“Mm,” she replied, falling briefly into a doze as his arm around her calves shifted to become fingers trailing from her knee down her inner thigh.

“Sonia, honey,” Callum called and her eyes fluttered again.

“Wolf, I’m sleepy,” she protested weakly and to make her point, burrowed deeper into his hard frame.

At her words, his trailing fingers became a gentle grip on the flesh of her inner thigh for a moment before they started trailing again.

“You said that, little one,” he replied softly. “I wanted you to know that the men are here. You need your rest and I need to get to work so I called them here.” His fingers were still trailing from knee to mid-inner-thigh and back again as he finished, “I came up to tell you because I didn’t want you to be alarmed if you woke and heard voices.”

“Okay,” she replied, her thoughts still drowsy, her attention reverting to his fingers’ movements.

He kissed the top of her head and muttered in a final way, “You sleep as long as you like.”

Sonia wasn’t listening.

Her body decided his fingers weren’t going deep enough and, on a downward trail, her hips unconsciously, lazily, rose to lengthen their route.

Those fingers stilled.

Involuntarily, a disappointed noise escaped the back of Sonia’s throat.

His hand dropped instantly and his big palm rested warmly at the juncture between her legs.

It registered on her somnolent brain that that felt nice.

His voice had grown husky when he asked, “Do you want a little play, baby doll?”

Before her mind fully woke, her body used her mouth to answer quietly, “Yes, Callum.”

“My sweet, greedy queen,” he muttered, his voice rough and satisfied as his palm moved away but his fingers moved in. Finding her instantly they twitched and vibrated until she shoved her face in his neck, wrapped her arms around his shoulders and ground into his fingers.

She was panting gently against his skin when his fingers plunged inside her, stroking tender but deep.

“God, I love the feel of you,” he whispered adoringly, the tone of his words Sonia missed as she focused on the beautiful tension gathering around his fingers. “Are you going to come for me, little one?”

“Yes,” she breathed, pressing to meet his strokes.

His fingers drove deep and stilled as his thumb hit the core of her, pressing and twitching and the tension built swiftly then exploded magnificently.

After, she instantly relaxed into his body as the calm of her post-orgasm and Callum’s warm frame enveloped her, making her feel safe.

“So wet,” he muttered, his fingers still toying with her tenderly as she drifted slowly to sleep in his arms. “The times are few, Sonia, when I regret my calling as king. But right now, with you in my arms like this, so fucking sweet, so fucking wet, I’d give anything to be able to stay here with you and eat you clean instead of having to walk down those stairs.”

“Mm,” was all Sonia could say, having no idea that Callum had not ever shared with a living being any regrets about his royal duty. He’d further never been tempted by anything enough actually to consider, even for an instant, avoiding that duty.

The next second, the throbbing still there, with renewed and intensely more delicious vigor that lulled her body, Sonia fell asleep with Callum’s fingers still playing between her legs.

* * * * *

Sonia woke, her eyes opening to see her pillows and thoughts of yesterday, last night and
this morning
crashed painfully into her head.

Her body under the covers that were tucked snug around her went rigid.

“Oh my God,” she breathed to the pillow.

She felt the ache in her muscles, the insistent throb between her legs and every inch of her skin grew hot with shame when she remembered last night (both times but
especially
the second time) and this morning (good goodness!).

She closed her eyes tight and turned her flaming face into the pillows as Callum’s words of last night echoed in her ears.

“My glorious queen, I told you we’d have a beautiful life, you and I.”

And she had lain under him, listening to those words, her legs spread brazenly wide to receive him, her body glorying in his weight pressing her into the bed,
him
still seated deep inside her, filling her full as she drifted into an exhausted sleep of deep abandoned contentment.

And she’d not wanted to lose him, his weight, his warmth, his shaft filling her full, making her feel whole.

“My glorious queen, I told you we’d have a beautiful life, you and I.”

Memories, sharp and stabbing, filled her head.

Yesterday morning, Callum claiming her and then practically forgetting about her for hours.

Yesterday afternoon, Callum telling that poor, sick, clearly demented woman she was “just a fuck” while Sonia, his mate, his supposed
wife
, sat in his lap facing his ex-lover.

He’d even rubbed his temple against Sonia’s hair, making it clear to the woman, who was obviously hung up on him (and
not
in a healthy way), not to mention
everyone in that room
, that Sonia was better in bed than she was. This deepening Desdemona’s humiliation to uncharted levels not to mention Sonia’s.

Then he and his people laughed and joked at Desdemona’s panicked struggles and Callum’s sentence for her to be “sequestered”. Even Ryon, who Sonia thought was a considerate man. Whatever sequestered was but clearly, whatever it was wasn’t good.

And Sonia’s place, her role, as silent succor to Callum. There for nothing more than him to use her “sweet little body” when he needed to work out his day.

It wasn’t medieval

It was…

It was…

She didn’t even know what it was!

And the things he’d said to her last night, about gagging for it, gagging for
him
.

And Yuri.

And Gregor!

And what they’d heard and Yuri had
seen
.

And
the things she’d learned from
them
.

And that morning, oh God, that morning, sitting in his lap and letting him toy with her like she was his plaything.

No, she didn’t
let
him, she’d practically
asked
him.

She
did
ask him!

A beautiful life? He called that a beautiful life?

More memories flooded her mind, these at war with the first.

Yesterday morning, Callum, sexy and sweet, just like her dream Callum, teasing her in bed before he’d seduced her and, for that matter, after, if only for a short time.

Yesterday afternoon, Ryon, Caleb and Calder chatting to her like they’d known her for ages. Like she was a member of their family already. Like she wasn’t weird or strange. Like she fit in.

And both times Callum tucked her hand, which was held safe in his, under his arm. Drawing her nearer. Offering his strength when she was frightened in the throne room and upset while facing Gregor and Yuri.

And, looking back at it, last night on the drive home and when they arrived at her house, Callum’s hilariously strained patience at dealing with her when she was in a snit (before he became an arrogant bastard who said hideous things, that was).

And the way he held her after she’d climaxed, her back to the headboard, his hand cradling her head, something about the way he did it making her feel precious.

And the way he’d dealt with her after Yuri interrupted them, that time with amused patience in the face of her fury.

And, before they went down to face Gregor and Yuri, that kiss. That thorough, beautiful kiss. A kiss that made her feel beautiful, desired, even the impossible,
loved
.

And, having a difficult conversation while facing the only family she had left (outside of Callum’s now, that was), she’d relaxed in his embrace. Callum showing her physically what it meant to support her during her times of struggle by holding her close, holding her strong. Showing her in ways she didn’t understand and couldn’t put her finger on that he stood between her and pain. Perhaps not able to halt it completely but he would be there to cushion the blow.

And at that very moment, tucked snug and warm in her covers, Callum did that. He did something tender in a way that made her feel he was keeping her safe.

“My glorious queen, I told you we’d have a beautiful life, you and I.”

Now that
could
be a beautiful life.

But that wasn’t all there was to it.

More thoughts pushed the others out and invaded her mind.

Last night, waking up with his hand between her legs, the urge already on her, stronger than ever before, changing her, taking her out of herself so she wasn’t any Sonia she’d ever known but someone else entirely. She was the creature he’d created. The creature he’d claimed. The creature, on some level, her mind was telling her she actually was meant to be.

And the way he took her. The way she responded to it, wanted it, lunged to meet it, her hips pushing into his, his fingers sinking into her flesh and fisting in her hair. He demanded more and more and more and she gloried in giving it to him as she took it from him,
needing
it like it was breath.

No, like there was something vital missing. Like there was some crucial part of who she was that had been lost. She felt drawn to Callum, linked to him, in fact, just as she’d thought after he claimed her, she felt
owned
by him and, in so being, only Callum could give her whatever she’d lost.

And this morning, half asleep, her instincts taking over and her brazen (again!) behavior, falling asleep with his hand still teasing her between her legs.

And the way they’d fallen asleep last night and how that didn’t feel shameful or scandalous (at the time, now she was horrified), but instead it felt…

It felt
right
.

“My glorious queen, I told you we’d have a beautiful life, you and I.”

A beautiful life? Was all of that a beautiful life?

Did all the good that was Callum, all that was tender and affectionate and warm and teasing outweigh the things that were bad? Did it outweigh the things that caused her to feel humiliation that her life as his queen meant he felt entitled to fall asleep between her spread-eagled legs still buried inside her even though he didn’t want her but only the use of her body? Did it outweigh her knowledge that something he dredged from deep inside her made her feel replete, content, whole after he’d taken her so hard, so roughly, making her scream in her climax and then he’d pinned her to the bed under him, still full of him and feeling, insanely, that it was
right?