Page 72 of Any Means Necessary

“Matteo Manici?” His deep voice is harsh, and actually quite intimidating. But not scary enough to rattle me. He can have this tantrum right now if he wants to, but that doesn’t make it my problem. “What the fuck was that?”

Finally, I find the small tube of lip balm I’m looking for, of course it was at the very bottom of my whole bag. Figures. “We were talking,” I reply calmly, leaning closer to the mirror. Swiping the balm across my lips, I blot with the pad of my finger.

“That wasn’t talking,” he states.

“I was being friendly.” I press my lips closed and rub them together.

“He’s not your friend.”

“None of these people are my friends.” I brush off his comment with a shrug.

“He wants to fuck you.”

“What does that matter?”

“He doesn’t get to have you.”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“Because I don’t share.” His statement has me turning to face him. He’s got me cornered against the entryway table, and my chest is just a breath away from his torso. Damn my big boobs, I can’t breathe deeply without rubbing against him. He’d probably think it was an invitation—and he’d probably be right.

“I didn’t sleep with him, there’s no harm in flirting,” I say, looking up at him like my blood isn’t roaring in my ears.

“The hell there isn’t.” His deep voice is so low, I can feel it resonating in my chest. God, his voice is hot. But that doesn’t make his entitled ass any less annoying. He doesn’t get to stake his claim on me because he’s made me come a few times. Fuck that.

“I have nothing to apologize for,” I respond to his silence. “The sex is good, and it might even happen again. But that’s all it is between us. Sex.”

I care about him, more than I ever thought I could. He’s become my rock, a steadying constant in the whirlwind my life has turned into. Callum doesn’t just watch, he pays attention. He knows what dress size I wear, he makes sure I’ve eaten, that I drink enough water. Callum sees me, he makes me a priority. He makes sure I’m catered to like no one has ever cared for me before. With him, I never feel like I’m asking too much, or that I even have to ask at all. He’s always there to give me exactly what I need the moment I realize I need it.

But he’s also a domineering, possessive ass who feels entitled to me. That same attention that makes me feel cherished turns crushing in an instant. And I refuse to give myself up to a man who can’t even tell me how he feels. A man who can’t communicate outside of brutal acts born from his jealousy. So unless there’s a drastic change in his choice of communication, my body is all he gets from me.

I take a small step to the side in an attempt to move around him, but he turns with me. His arms go to the wall on either side of my head, and his massive frame is looming over me again as he cages me in—this time even closer. His head lowers, asserting his dominance, but he doesn’t touch me. He wants me to make the first move, to submit to him—like he knows I can.

“I’ve been staring at this damn dress all night, imagining every way I can get you out of it. I get so fucking hard just looking at you.” A wave of desire washes over me at the raw hunger in his voice. I hate how attracted I am to this dark, twisted, brilliant man.

“That sounds like a personal problem,” I say, doing my best to ignore the way my heart is racing and the heat is pooling between my thighs. And failing miserably.

“You are my personal problem, Dewdrop. One I know exactly how to fix.” Breathing in his cologne is like inhaling pheromones that cloud my mind until I’m dizzy. Something shifts between us as our eyes lock, and I know what’s going to happen next. My chin lifts as I lean in, and the man pounces like a predator taking his prey.

His lips on mine are angry and heated, demanding everything from me as his hands yank my body against his. The fabric of my dress loosens as the zipper is lowered roughly. His pent up frustration is being inflicted on me with every rough press of his fingers and nip of his teeth, and my body responds eagerly to all of it. With each article of clothing being taken off me, I’m pulling away the fabric covering him until there’s nothing left between us. Our movements are frantic and desperate, trailing clothing across the front room.

We don’t make it to the bedroom, Callum’s too impatient. His erection presses against my stomach, hot, heady, and hungry for me. Our lips are pulled apart when Callum pushes me down onto the couch. The condom wrapper he pulls from the pocket of his discarded pants is hastily ripped open by his teeth, his eyes never leaving me for a second as the latex is being rolled down the length of his impressive cock. He lowers to join me, kneeling with one knee on the couch between my legs, the other stabilized on the floor. The potent desire on his face is really fucking hot; handsome and ruthless.

His large hands grip my hips, pulling my open legs around his waist to line himself up at my entrance. The first stroke is deep and hard, stealing my breath as we moan together. Then he pulls out and pushes back in, building a punishing pace. His piercing eyes drill into me as intensely as his big, hard cock.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me, Dewdrop? Do you?” he demands, an edge in his voice that’s punctuated with the rough pounding of his hips.

“Callum,” I moan loudly at the feeling of him filling me, stretching me so completely.

“You’ve gotten so deep under my skin I will never get enough. You’ve fucking branded me. Every second of every day, it’s you. Your wit, your laugh, how fucking good you smell. I can’t have a single thought without you being right there in the center of it. It’s maddening.”

“Cal—” His name is ripped from me with a gasp. His pelvis rubs my clit roughly with each powerful thrust, sending sharp bolts of pleasure racing through me. His beard scrapes over my skin as his lips move across my throat, shoulders, breasts. He nips, licks, and sucks, marking my fair skin—branding me.

“You drive me crazy,” he rasps. “With this smart mouth of yours, this gorgeous body, and that addicting smile.”

“Oh, shit.” He’s railing me so deeply, it’s all I can do to ride it out and let him take me.

“Everytime you defy me, all I can think about is fucking the attitude right out of you. Just like this.” He hooks his arms under my thighs and lifts my hips to push in deeper, making me cry in pleasure. “Tell me you’re sorry.”

---