Page 7 of Callum

I run.

My leg swings through the air, causing me to hiss in pain with each heavy step toward the front door. I’m not fast enough, and we both know it. I see the beer bottle shatter against the front door right as Callum’s foot slams into the back of my knee. Crashing to the ground, I feel the shards of glass slice through the skin of my arms and face.

“Fuck!” Pain shoots through my ribs where they bounced off the floor, and I have to force myself not to pass out.

“That was fucking pathetic, Re—”

I don’t let him finish saying that ridiculous name, my leg sweeping his ankles as I flip onto my back. His body falls next to mine, and I’m on him instantly. My hips pin his to the ground, pressing down as I pull the knife from my shoe. Placing the blade’s tip against the vein pulsing in the side of his neck, I smile victoriously down at him. “Looks like you’re out of practice, Doc.”

“Oh, I’ve been getting plenty of practice, Red. It’s just that I moved on to women who don’t have to fight before they fuck.” Callum’s hands sliding under the hem of my stolen dress distract me from his words, those talented fingers digging into my hips. I can feel the hard line of his cock between my thighs, and I can’t stop myself from grinding down against him.

I’ve missed this.

Callum groans, his head tipping back against the dark wood floor, but he keeps both eyes on me.

“Is this what you wanted?” He all but purrs the words, a vicious snarl pulling at his lips. He moves suddenly, bringing our faces inches apart. I nearly drop the knife as I struggle to keep my balance on his lap. “You’re so fucking desperate for dick that you had to break into my house to get it?”

“No,” I shake my head, grabbing at Callum’s shoulders when his arms snake around my waist, dragging me across his lap again. I am going to kill Lachlan MacAlister. I don’t care if he is the most terrifying mother fucker on this planet; I’m going to hunt him down and skin him alive for dropping me at Callum’s house. “I’m not here for you.”

“The way you’re grinding this needy pussy on me tells a different story, kitten.” The endearment drips from his lips, and I can’t stop how my body lights up at the sound of it. My hips move against my will, the feel of him too good to ignore. A soft moan escapes me, and Callum hisses in response. “Tell me why I should believe you.”

“Your fam—”

“Don’t,” he snaps, flipping us so quickly I don’t have time to brace myself. My back slams into the floor, knocking the air from my lungs a second time. He pins my wrists to the ground with one hand, and I feel the knife drop from my grip. The back of Callum’s knuckles run the length of my throat as his legs spread my thighs further apart. “Don’t you fucking talk about my family.”

The dress pools around my waist, and he moves his hand from my throat; his fingers dance along my skin, drawing soft patterns into the sensitive parts of my stomach and thighs. “Callum,” I breathe his name, unsure what I’m even asking for.

“What’s the matter, Red? Is there something you need?”

“Not from you.” Even as I say the words, my hips grind up to meet his hand. I’ve never seen his eyes as dark as they are in this moment.

“You know I can feel how wet you are for me, don’t you?”

“Fuck you.”

“You’ve made that request several times already. I’m just not interested in used goods.”

I’m going to stab him. My nails scrape across the hardwood floors as I scramble desperately for the knife I dropped. Callum’s dark laugh rumbles through his chest as he reaches past me to slap the blade across the room. “I’m not looking to get stabbed tonight, Red.”

“Then you better get your fucking hands off me.”

Callum raises a knowing brow as my traitorous hips try to grind my clit against his fingers. “Are you sure that’s what you want, kitten? Because it sure seems like you’re begging me to play with this desperate, dripping cunt.”

Fuuuuucking Hell, “Yes.”

“Yes, what, kitten?” Callum’s voice is sickly sweet as he lets go of my wrists to wrap his hand around my throat. The gentle squeeze of his fingers against the sides of my neck makes my vision grow fuzzy along the edges. “Tell me.”

“I don’t—”

“Don’t you fucking lie to me,” he snaps, pulling away so suddenly I nearly sob. His hands instantly wrap around my waist, flipping me onto my stomach. I don’t have time to protest before he’s dragging my hips up, the glass shards from the beer bottle digging into my knees and shins. “Fuck.”

The word isn’t meant for my ears, but I hear it right before I feel the sting of Callum’s palm against my ass. “Goddammit!”

“You’re still so fucking sensitive, kitten,” Callum groans, his fingers running over the spot where his hand connected with my ass. “I missed seeing my handprints on your skin.”

Me, too.

Callum shifts his weight behind me, and I hear him messing with the entryway table. I try to see what he’s doing, but a hand snaps to the back of my neck, pressing my face into the floor again. “I didn’t say you could move, kitten.”

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