Page 3 of Exposing Adonis

“Shush,” I whispered to her, bringing the phone to my ear again as I circled a wet thumb around her clit. After two rings the phone clicked on.

Alastair answered with a slurp, probably sipping his tea, before he asked, “Have you banished the wench or ravished her?”

I looked at the ravished wench on my lap and couldn’t help but grin. But Alastair had no right to know this, so I ignored his greeting.

“We have a man for Kemet,” I flatly stated. “We leave in thirty minutes for Istanbul.”

“Is it the brother?” He asked, in that casual, jovial air that he had cultivated around himself.

“Good guess,” I said, staring down at my woman. Her hand was on my forearm, clutching it like her sanity depended on it. The other covered her mouth as she tried not to moan.

Good. her whimpers were for me, and me alone.

“Doesn’t take a genius,” Alastair said with a sigh. “I’ll grab Hugo and Geordie. I suppose we’ll learn more on the way?”

“That’s right,” I said, hanging up on him, and throwing the phone with a clatter on the Afghan rug.

I turned my attention back to her, beautifully writhing in my lap. My newly freed hand went to her perfect, slender throat. I could almost get my thumb and index finger to go all the way around her neck, and she preened, exposing more of its length to me.

“There, darling.” I cooed, leaning down to bite that spot below her earlobe. “You’ve asked me for help, and I’m delivering. What else do you want from me?”

“Callum!” She whined, her body shaking. “Please, don’t … make me …”

I threw a leg over her, switching our positions so that she was laying on the couch, and I straddled her hips, my hand between us, still working her heated core.

“Oh, I willmakeyou,” I promised. “I like the words. So say them.”

She shook her head, her hand coming to her mouth again to silence those sweet whimpers I was consuming like nectar.

“Ask for what you want, darling.” I doubled my efforts, pressing harder, increasing pressure, promising her relief if she’d only just obey me.

She shook her head again, her body quaking with need. I slowed the pace of my hand, bringing her back from the edge.

“Please!” she screamed, her hand coming to my wrist, holding the hand that pinned her down by the throat.

She didn’t push it away. She didn’t try to stop me as I tightened my grip.

“Say it,” I said gently. “Tell me what you want. Ask me, baby.”

Her legs rubbed together and she tried to buck into my hand to increase the pressure I was denying her.

“Fuck me, please!”

I smiled down at her as my thighs settled between hers. She opened her legs willingly. I looked down as I undid my pants, and my hand, wet with her juices, fisted my cock.

“Say my name,” I demanded, bringing my tip to her entrance, barely pressing in.

“Callum, please, fuck me,” she whined, her hands came to my face, cupping my beard. A cute line formed between her brows as her desperation grew.

“And who are you, to me… come on, darling. You know what I want to hear.”

“Please!” she screamed. Her head shook back and forth as her mind warred with the poetry that was spilled from her lips. “I’m yours. Fuck me, please.”

Those words were exactly what I ached for.

I thrust into her warmth, and her grateful moan filled the room as she welcomed me in.

“Yes,” she moaned, her hands slid into my hair. “Just like that, please…”

---