Page 51 of Operator
Scooting back, I position myself on my knees in between his spread legs. A quick glance shows Cal sucking in a breath, his hard abs contracting as I bend over him to take his cock in my hands. He’s somehow tense and relaxed at once, anticipating the pleasure as I stroke him. His cock is sticky with my own lubrication and musky with our combined scents.
With my eyes on his, I wrap my lips around the bulbous head. He holds my gaze for a few seconds before his eyes flutter closed and he goes slack against the pillows. Grinning inwardly at my power over him, I take him deep, my nose filling with the taste of me on his skin. At the base, crisp hair tickles my cheeks, and the head of his cock fills my throat. He’s thick and perfect, almost too big to comfortably wrap my lips around, but the sounds he’s making deep in his chest override any discomfort.
One hand tangles in my hair, but he doesn’t do more than touch me as though to reassure himself that I’m there. But the thought that he could exert any amount of pressure has me sucking harder. He exhales raggedly. “That’s right, angel, take it deep for me. You suck it so good.”
If I thought I couldn’t go deeper, that statement proves me wrong. Apparently, I’m a words of affirmation girl. Because I take him impossibly farther, until I can’t breathe and my jaw aches from the effort.
He gives up on pretending at restraint and his hands fist in the sheets by his hips, his feet twitching beside me with every one of my mouth’s movements. I could come from hearing his sounds of pleasure and nothing else, I swear to God.
My hand works up and down as I deep throat as much of him as I can handle. Saliva coats his cock and my hand, making a wet, slippery mess, but I don’t care. I’m enthralled by how I seem to be able to control him, how much he’s enjoying what I’m doing to him.
“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna come in your mouth if you don’t stop,” he whispers harshly. When all I do is suck him impossibly deeper and lick the underside and then tease the head with my lips, his whole body trembles. He’s weak for me and I’m heady with the power of it. “You’re so fucking good. Take it. Take all of it.” When I do, his back arches and he groans. His hands come back to my hair and then one taps my shoulder.
If he means that as a warning, I don’t heed it. He’s going wild now, hips bucking, limbs straining, wild. I’m wet between my thighs, practically dripping, and he hasn’t even touched me anywhere significant. Because I want to sink my fingers deep inside myself, I cup them around the heavy weight of his testicles instead. This isn’t about my pleasure. This is all about him. I roll them gently in my hand, squeezing the slightest bit and then all his muscles tighten at once and his groan reverberates down my throat. Salty cum spurts into my mouth almost faster than I can swallow. When he’s done, I lick him clean and swallow it down.
He shudders as I straighten, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I move to go brush my teeth again, but he tugs me down into a sprawl over his body. I make a sound of protest when I realize he means to kiss me, and then he’s spinning me underneath him and pressing my body into the bed. His mouth covers mine, and he kisses me so deeply I forget why I was protesting in the first place. Violet lets out a little mewl and we break apart to share a laugh.
“She has such great timing,” I say.
“Why don’t I get her while you take a shower,” he suggests and thumbs my lips with something akin to reverence.
“I won’t say no to that.” I don’t bother covering up as I walk to the bathroom, and I feel his eyes on me all the way there.
I consider my next move in the shower. If we had enough time, I’d get him back in bed once the baby goes down for another nap, but a glance at my phone shows me by the time we get ready and straighten the house, it’ll be time for Ford and his girlfriend Peyton to arrive. The nerves come back full force and I spend extra time in the shower. It feels as though meeting Ford and Peyton will be the first test of our brand-new relationship—because that’s what it is.
Oh, God.I’m in a relationship with Callum.
I don’t know if it shocks me more to admit it…or to be so damn happy about it.
Either way, I don’t care as long as I don’t lose him too.
* * *
“Does this look okay?”
I’m nervous. None of my clothes really fit anymore, and I want to make a good impression on Callum’s friends. They’re important to him and I want him in my life, so they’re important to me, too. I opted for a pair of leggings and a long, flowy shirt that compliments my new curves.
“You look fantastic.” Cal rolls his eyes as if the notion of me looking anything but is ludicrous. Men. “They’re not going to care.”
“Ford may not, but women notice these things.” I look up from where I’m stabbing an earring in the reflection of the hall mirror. “Why are you changing the lightbulbs on the porch?”
He grunts as he loses his footing on the top step. “They were out.”
I glance in the kitchen and find the sink full. “Didn’t I ask you to do the dishes?”
“But these needed to be changed. We have company coming over.”
He says it like it makes sense, but I don’t understand what one has to do with the other. “How does that affect the bulbs? The dishes are visible from here. I’m sure they’re going to care more about the dishes than the porch lights?”
Is this some sort of male ritual? I swear Ian used to do the same thing. At any holiday get together, he would find a thousand things to do outside instead of helping me with things that actually mattered—like the cooking people were expecting to eat.
“Ford would.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Whatever, but if those dishes aren’t done before they get here, I’m going to lose my mind.”
“Woman, they’ll be done. Just hold your horses.” He hops off the ladder and smacks my ass, then grins at my high-pitched squeal. “That’s what you get. Now they won’t break their necks going down the steps after dinner. I’ll get to the dishes after I put this ladder up.”
It’s then that it hits me: the random chores he’s been doing since I got out of the shower this morning are the male version of changing your clothes a thousand times. He’s nervous. I hide a smile as he mutters about nagging and carries the ladder back out to the shed behind the house. Callum is actually nervous. I find it reassuring that I’m not the only one anticipating Ford’s arrival.
