Page 73 of Love Me Like You Do

Her panty and robe covered mound.

Or her hidden cleavage.

Calliope is a complete sex bomb.

As if she senses my turmoil, she undoes her robe and slides it off her shoulders. It flutters to the carpet, leaving her in her heels and lingerie.

“I thought I was unwrapping you?”

She shrugs at me and runs her hands seductively over her body, brushing her breasts before sliding them back down her sides. She grips the little bows at her hips and pretends to tug. A groan slips free. As sexy as this is, I’m ready to combust. She takes a step closer and I reach out, pulling her into me. She squeals and I bury my face in the valley of her tits. “You smell like heaven,” I growl into her—my—breasts, rubbing my face in them. Biting her nipple through the material, she moans and presses herself into me farther. I can’t help myself, I lift her up and lower her to the mattress, covering her body with mine. I kiss her roughly on the lips before kissing my way down her body. Over her breasts—which for the record was hard to do—down her stomach before licking along her panty line.

With my teeth, I pull at one of the bows on her side before doing the same to the other one. Pulling away the material, I look between her thighs, she’s already turned on. Her lips are glistening in the light and I need to taste her.

Lowering my head, I lick her from taint to clit, circling her little bundle of nerves with the tip of my tongue before sliding back down to her entrance. Spearing my tongue into her, she cries out at the intrusion. “Kane,” she moans as I begin to thrust my tongue in and out of her. Just when she’s on the brink, I pull back, my beard coated with her juices.

“That was the best appetizer, Sunshine, but I think it’s time for my main course.” Before she has a chance to move, I free my straining cock, pull her to the edge of the bed and with a flick of my hips, I push inside her.

“Kane,” she pants as I piston my hips back and forth. My cock sliding in and out.

“More,” she cries.

“Harder,” she demands.

“Fuck me, Kane. Fuck me now,” she shouts, lifting her leg, like I did the first night we did this. I rest it on my shoulder and continue to thrust in and out of her.

“You close, Sunshine?” I ask, not sure I can hold off much longer.

“So close,” she whines.

Pressing my finger onto her clit, I circle it with the pad of my finger and it sets her off. Her muscles clench down on my shaft and she comes. Her body stiffens and she lets go. She screams as pleasure courses through her veins. Seeing her come undone sets me off and I follow, emptying myself inside her.

Lowering her leg, I stare down at her. Her hair is fanned out beneath her. Her cheeks are flushed pink. Her chest’s rapidly rising as she catches her breath. “Happy birthday, baby,” she pants. “I hope you liked unwrapping your present.”

“I fucking loved it and I hope I get to unwrap it again later.”

“That might be in the cards but first, you need to feed me so I have the energy for you to unwrap me again later.”

“I like the sound of that.” Pulling out of her, I offer her my hand and we walk back into the en suite. “Shower or sponge bath?”

“I can’t be assed taking my shoes or bra off so sponge it is.”

Turning the sink faucet on, I grab a cloth from under the vanity and wet it. Dropping to my knees in front of her, I clean her up. When I’m done, I press a kiss to the top of her mound.

“Kane,” she snaps, slapping my head. “Enough, we’re going to be late otherwise.”

“It’s my birthday, I’ll kiss your cunt if I want to.”

“Keep using the ‘c’ word and it’ll be closed to you forever.”

“Fine, it’s my birthday, I’ll kiss your pussy if I want to. Better?”

“Much, now feed me so you can have my cunt for dessert later.” My eyes widen at her use of the ‘c’ word but if I know Calliope, she just did it to keep me on my toes. Truth be told, she can use any word in the world, as long as I have her, I’m fine with any language.

* * *

We areall standing by the bar, having a night cap before heading home. I thought I’d gotten out of the traditional song but when Garrick orders Macallan 30-year for the men and Glenfiddich Winter Storm ice wine for the ladies, I know it’s about to happen.

“Happy birthday to you …” they all begin to sing as does everyone else in the bar. Looking around, I smile when I see all those I hold near and dear to me are here to celebrate my birthday. They have just finished cheering after singing and I’m on top of the world, but that feeling quickly dissipates when Bitchifer comes barreling toward us.

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