Page 66 of The Final Rose

I’m going to have sex tonight.

I’m going to invite Sebastian Riggs to my tiny apartment and fuck his brains out.

17.

Sebastian

I eye her buildingalready knowing she’ll need to move. Callie won’t appreciate it, but this place simply won’t do.

She wasn’t lying before. It’s in the worst neighborhood, with drug dealers doing business at her doorstep. My car won't make it through the night in a place like this. I can’t believe a five-foot-nothing woman can.

The state of the building reflects the rest of the street. Decay and mess. The halls are dirty and there’s no intercom. People just come and go as they please.

I go up to the second floor, ready to lecture as I ring the doorbell.

She can come to the hotel with me, and we can think of something else later. Maybe we can get a place together. Itdoesn’t need to be full of luxury. I just want her to be safe and I can’t…

My thoughts are cut short when Callie opens the door and flings herself at me. Her arms around my neck, her legs around my waist. She’s quick. One second, I’m planning to pack her bags, the next I don’t want to ever leave the apartment.

When her lips are on mine, I groan, my hands firmly under her ass as I come inside and kick the door close. Callie giggles, taking my earlobe between her teeth.

“I still need to lock it. It doesn’t matter how hot your move was.” She tells me, wiggling away from my arms to grab the keys that she keeps on a hook beside the front door.

“Believe me, I know you need to lock it up.”

I can’t stop myself. She’s locking the door and I grab her hips and bring them to me. She bucks, turning the key as I rub her against myself.

“So, you love my place?” Her voice hitches.

“Love it. You have to move.”

I’m dead serious, but Callie laughs. With another pull, I rub her ass slowly on my cock and her chuckle disappears into a moan. She tries to swirl around to face me, but I take her hands in mine and place them on the door in front of her face. I secure both her wrists and her breathing catches.

“You live in a shithole, love.” I let her know.

“Some of us don’t get huge English Georgian houses for our eighteenth birthday.”

“If you only knew someone who has one of those English houses.” I squeeze her wrist for a second. “Keep those here.” My instructions leave no room for arguments as I move my hands down to her shoulders.

She’s wearing the smallest thermal top and those indecent denim shorts of hers. Bare feet and her toenails are painted light blue.

“You think I suck dick for money, Riggs?”

I bite her shoulder. “Not for money. Maybe for a roof.”

Her laugh is cracked, especially when I let my hands wander a little south. Taking her ass, her shapely legs, and then bringing them back up to her waist. I decide I’ve had too much of that top and I remove it. Callie unglues her hands from the door for just a second, but as soon as her top is off, she’s back in position.

“You’re such a good girl for me Calliope.” I tell her low in her ear.

Callie shakes beneath my palms, whimpering with praise.

“Can I turn?” she asks.

I move both my hands to her front, taking her tits in my palms, tugging her nipples as a simple word leaves my lips. “No.”

Her throat works, but she doesn’t move a muscle. I feel something coming over me. After months of not being in control of anything, I finally am.

I trace her neck with my nose, breathing her in as I bring one hand down her stomach to the button and zipper of her shorts. I tug them down along with her underwear, and I need a minute to process what’s in front of me.

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