Page 3

Callie

My heart is going to explode.

I reach for the notebook, barely able to keep my hand steady.

He doesn’t resist. He just watches me with a kind of heat that makes my insides flip.

Our fingers brush as I take it, and I swear something electric snaps between us.

Like a spark catching flame. I look at him, and he’s already watching me like he knows.

Knows that I’m burning. That I want to burn for him.

I flip through the pages, pretending I’m not trembling. My fingertip lands on the one I was picturing the entire time he spoke. I can’t look at him as I turn the book, pointing silently at the scene.

The one where I wrote about being on my knees for him.

His eyes drop to the page, scanning quickly. And then he lets out a low, feral sound that sends a shiver straight through me.

He pushes his chair back from his desk and swivels it towards me. “Get on your knees.”

I don’t even think. My body just moves. By the time he’s finished the sentence, I’m already on the floor in front of him, breathless and aching and ready.

He leans back in his chair, legs spread wide, looking down at me with open hunger.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, reaching out to brush his thumb against my lower lip. “So fucking eager. I can’t wait to find out what it feels like to have these soft, pretty lips wrapped around my dick.”

I lift my eyes. My throat is dry, my body wound so tight I can’t even feel where I end and he begins.

“You should know that I’ve never…” I whisper, voice barely there. “This is my first time. Doing this. With anyone.”

Roman stills. His entire expression shifts. Darkens. There’s a sharp, possessive edge in his eyes now.

“How the fuck,” he says, voice rough, “did you write those stories so well if you’ve never actually done this before?”

I blush hard. “I just imagined it. I thought about you and… made it up.”

He groans, almost like he’s in pain. One hand runs through his hair as he mutters something low under his breath. Then his eyes lock back onto mine.

“I’m glad,” he says. “Glad I’m the first. The only. Because the thought of anyone else touching my pretty little writer makes me want to kill whoever dared to imagine they could have what’s mine.”

My breath catches. My core clenches.

God help me. If he keeps talking like that, I might combust on the spot before I even get a chance to taste him.

I glance down, trying not to let him see how weak his words make me. Trying not to beg for more. But my gaze lands on his cock, and the sight is enough to make me whimper.

Because the thing pressing hard against the fly of his pants is enormous. Long and thick and hard. He hasn’t even freed it from his clothing, and I’m already more than a little intimidated.

But a whole lot turned on.

My eyes flicker back up to his, and the dark smirk I see on his face tells me that he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

His hands move to his belt, and his fingers undo the buckle slowly. With one hand, he undoes the top button of his jeans, then unzips his fly. He lifts his hips, pushing his pants and boxers down just far enough to free his massive erection.

The sight of his cock, thick and throbbing and bare, is like a punch to the gut. He’s even bigger than I’d thought, and every cell in my body is begging for a taste.

He wraps a hand around his shaft and strokes lazily, eyes burning into mine. “Come here, Callie. Open that pretty mouth for me.”

I can’t breathe.

My heart is beating so hard I can feel it everywhere, in my ribs, my throat, between my legs. My thighs clench involuntarily.

This is real. He’s real. And he’s huge and beautiful and hard, and he wants me.

He wants me.

His other hand curls around the back of my neck, and I lean forward obediently, mouth open, desperate to please him.

The moment his thick cock slides between my lips, I moan. I can’t help it. He feels amazing. Hot and heavy and silky smooth against my tongue. The scent of him is intoxicating, a mix of soap and clean cotton and pure male arousal.

I have to force myself to take it slow, easing down the length of him, inch by torturous inch. I want to take him deep, but I’m not sure I can, given his size. He’s stretching my jaw almost to the point of discomfort, and he’s barely halfway inside me.

He groans, low and rough, as I start to move, sliding up and down his shaft, sucking hard enough to make my cheeks cave in. His fingers tangle in my hair, guiding my pace, setting the rhythm.

I can’t believe this is happening. I’ve imagined it so many times, and now I’m here on my knees, sucking Roman Thorne’s cock while he looks down at me with an expression of raw, unabashed lust.

And it feels so much better than I ever thought it would.

My lips are slick, stretched around his thick shaft. His cock fills my mouth completely, and the feeling is utterly overwhelming. I’m losing myself in the sensation of him, in the taste of his skin and the low, ragged sounds he’s making.

“That feels so good, baby,” he groans, fingers tightening in my hair. “Your mouth was made for me.”

He starts to thrust his hips, driving himself deeper, and I whimper around his cock, my own arousal flooding through me. I’m already soaked, my pussy clenching, begging to be filled.

Unable to resist, I wrap a hand around the base of his shaft, stroking what won’t fit in my mouth. His groan echoes off the high ceilings, sending a jolt of pleasure through me.

I’m doing that to him. I’m making him lose control.

His erection is hot and hard in my hand, and his skin is like velvet over steel. The muscles of his thighs are tense beneath my palm, and the knowledge that he’s enjoying this just as much as I am sends a rush of heat through me.

“Fuck,” he growls, his grip on my hair tightening. “You look so fucking gorgeous with your mouth full of my cock.”

His words are a dirty caress, sending shivers down my spine. I double my efforts, determined to make him feel as good as possible.

My head bobs up and down, and my jaw aches. But the way his breathing grows more labored and his cock throbs against my tongue is worth every bit of the effort.

“Keep going, Callie,” he moans. “But I want your other hand in your panties. When I blow my load in your pretty little mouth, I want you coming with me, baby.”

My cheeks burn even hotter. I’ve never touched myself in front of someone else before, and the idea of this perfect man seeing more of my body, seeing me completely vulnerable and exposed and coming for him, is both thrilling and terrifying.

But I’m too turned on to resist, so I pull my skirt up at the front and slide my hand in the front of my underwear, whimpering around his hard flesh in my mouth when I feel how soaked the cotton is.

“That’s it, baby. Show me how you like to touch yourself. Because, soon enough, it will be me making you scream with pleasure.”

God. The way he talks. It’s so filthy. So sexy.

I start to stroke myself, circling my clit in quick, tight circles, just the way I do when I’m alone in my dorm room and thinking of him. My pussy is dripping, and the feeling of my wetness slicking my fingers is almost enough to push me over the edge.

“Yes, baby. Make yourself come for me. Let me hear those sweet little sounds.”

I’m panting around his cock, my hips grinding against my hand, and the world is starting to go hazy around the edges. Every inch of me is buzzing, and his hard length throbbing in my mouth and the scent of his skin and the sound of his voice are filling me up, making me drunk with desire.

I’m close. So close.

I can feel the pressure building inside me, coiling tight like a spring. Every nerve ending is singing, and the friction of my fingers against my clit is pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

I’m lost in the sensation, lost in him, and it’s only a matter of seconds before I tip over the edge, moaning around his cock as the first waves of pleasure crash over me.

I can’t help the sounds escaping my mouth as I come, the whimpers and gasps and cries muffled by his throbbing erection. I can’t focus on sucking him anymore, can’t do anything except let the waves of pleasure wash over me, my body trembling with the force of it.

“Good girl,” he rasps, his voice hoarse with need. “You look so fucking beautiful when you come for me.”

He thrusts his hips, and his cock hits the back of my throat, making me gag a little. I force myself to relax, letting him use my mouth, taking everything he has to give.

His fingers tighten in my hair, pulling hard enough to sting. I know what’s about to happen, and the anticipation is almost enough to send me spiraling again.

“I’m going to come, baby,” he grunts, his voice strained. “I’m going to fill that pretty little mouth, and you’re going to swallow every drop like a good girl, aren’t you?”

I hum my agreement, and the vibrations seem to push him even closer to the edge.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, his cock twitching. “Here it comes.”

I feel the first hot spurts of his release hit the back of my throat, and the salty, bitter taste of him on my tongue is enough to make me moan. I swallow him down eagerly, loving the way he tastes, the way his body shudders as I suck him dry.

It’s filthy and intimate and perfect, and I know, without a doubt, that this is the best moment of my life.

When he’s finally spent, he releases his grip on my hair, and I pull away from his cock, gasping for air.

I can’t believe I just did that. With Roman Thorne. The man I’ve been obsessed with my entire adult life. It was amazing.

He reaches down, hands hooking under my arms as he lifts me into his lap as if I weigh nothing. Now I’m straddling him, my face almost level with his, and we’re so close I can feel his hot breath teasing against my lips.

“My god, Callie,” he whispers, his voice husky. “That was... incredible.”

My heart flutters. I’ve never felt more wanted or more proud. I made this man feel like that. Me.

“I’m not done with you, baby,” he says, his dark eyes gleaming. “In fact, I think it’s my turn to get a taste of you.”

His mouth crashes down on mine, and his kiss is everything I imagined and more. His lips are firm and insistent, and his tongue invades my mouth, claiming me, owning me.

My whole body is humming, and the ache between my legs is almost unbearable. All I want is more. More of him. More of this.

His hands are all over me, exploring every curve through my clothes. He’s kissing me like he’s starving, and the feeling of his hard body pressed against mine is driving me wild.

But then his phone starts buzzing on the desk, and he mutters a curse word under his breath.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to take a raincheck on tasting you, baby.

That’s the dean calling to remind me I’m supposed to be in a meeting right now.

But this is what’s going to happen. You are going to email me your novel this afternoon while I’m busy, and when I get a chance, I will reply with my home address.

I should be home about seven-thirty, and I want you waiting at my house for me, okay?

And then we can continue this all night. ”

I nod, dazed, still floating somewhere up near the ceiling.

“Okay,” I say, my voice husky. “I can do that.”

“Good girl.” He kisses me one last time, soft and slow, and then sets me on my feet. “I’m looking forward to it. More than you can possibly know.”

I can’t wipe the smile off my face. Not as I watch him adjust his clothes, not as I gather up my notebook and backpack, and not as I slip out the door of the lecture hall.

Tonight is going to be magical. I just know it.