Page 49 of Anarchy at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 4)
“I killed six men while I was looking for you,” he tells me, sighing heavily. Cal runs a finger up my spine as I drop my chin to my chest and do my best to keep breathing. But fuck, even just the touch of his finger is like agony on my tortured body; it feels almost too good. “Kali is so fucking lucky that Aaron got there first.” He draws his hand back and reaches between us to guide his cock to my aching cunt.
“Only six?” is what I want to say, but the words won’t come. Instead, all I can do is let out a ragged exhale as Callum slides into me.
The way he lurks in shadows, or wears his hood up, somebody might get the wrong impression that the world scares Cal, or that he’s hiding from it. What they’re not getting is that he’s simply learned to meld with the dark, to slip into the fabric of shadows and embrace them, that’s all. There is no confidence lacking in this man.
He fucks like it, too, like he has every confidence in himself and me. In us.
I don’t bother moving like I did with Hael or Oscar. Instead, I let Callum take complete control, stoking the ember in my belly to flames with his easy, practiced strokes. He worships my body with his hands, too, sliding his palm up my back, caressing my ass with the other. He isn’t afraid to moan either, and the chilling sounds of pleasure unwinding from his scarred throat turn my body inside out.
Isn’t it interesting, how a broken thing can be so beautiful? Callum’s voice isn’t the one he was born with; it was gifted to him by violence. But he wields it so perfectly that you’d never know, would you?
He ends up leaning over me, one palm on the bed to support his weight, the other sliding across my mouth.
“Bite me,” he whispers, sliding a finger between my lips. I suck on it for a moment, and then I bite down just hard enough to make him shudder. I can tell that he likes it as much as I do, that edge of pain and pleasure. Cal adjusts his place, moving faster, stroking deeper.
If I said it didn’t hurt—even with the weed and the three Vicodin I popped earlier—I’d be lying. It does. My side is killing me, and I’ve got a bit of a migraine from when the first bullet grazed my skull. But this is what I want tonight. I want to feel hard bodies and hot hands; I want to know I’m still here and that I didn’t end up dead for my mistake.
When I heard that gunshot, when I thought I was going to die on my knees in front of that backstabbing rat, I was afraid. I was so afraid that I refused to admit it until just now. Like, maybe I was in some sort of emotional shock.
“Shit,” I breathe, my arms giving out until my upper body is resting on the bed, my head on my forearms. Cal pauses briefly, removes a pillow from the mountain beside us, and then uses it to prop my hips.
Then he keeps going, his climax making his body quiver and spasm against mine before he triggers yet another reaction in me. My pussy squeezes around him, milking Cal’s cock and drawing these beautiful, husky sounds from his throat. He really does have the best voice, the most unique. I could listen to him whispering in my ear from sundown to sunup every night and never get bored of it. We come more or less around the same time, and he rolls off to lie next to Hael, digging his fingers into his blond hair.
“Fuck,” Cal breathes, closing his eyes as I tremble at the thought of Aaron watching all of this. I mean, I know they’re all watching, but he’s the only one left, standing at the foot of the bed and staring at me.
He climbs onto the bed slowly, the cuffs on his wrists clanking slightly. They bump against my overheated body as he caresses my ass with his left hand. When he spanks me, the cuff slaps against my wet core and I’m forced to bite my lip to hold back another moan.
“Bernie,” Aaron breathes, and I can tell then that he wanted to go last, that when Vic ordered him in here, he at least granted Aaron one request. He takes his time getting into position, his right hand temporarily useless and rendering him unable to touch me anywhere but between the thighs. He can’t lean over me and brace a palm on the bed the way the other boys can, not for at least three weeks. As far as his leg goes, with a broken fibula, he can still walk.
