Page 81 of Anarchy at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 4)
“Not yet.” He kisses his way back up my leg, running his tongue along the length of my thigh as I lean back on my elbows and try to remember to breathe. When I do manage to catch my breath, pulling in a sharp inhale, the sound is loud. “Focus on keeping your breathing slow and controlled for me.”
He pushes my knees apart with gentle fingers tipped in blue nails, putting his mouth up against the front of my panties. Slowly, Cal presses his lips and tongue against my core, teasing my body through the fabric.
My heartrate picks up, and I struggle to swallow a groan of longing. Too slow, too drawn-out. I just want him to tear that slip of silk off, so he can fuck me. But maybe that’s the prize I didn’t win tonight?
My body turns speckled with beads of sweat as Cal holds my trembling legs apart, kissing and sucking at the fabric over the aching heat of my core. The need for him to go further becomes almost unbearable, and I lift my hands to my own breasts, squeezing them through my shirt and bra as I close my eyes.
One of Cal’s palms skims up my belly and under my shirt until it’s resting against my heart.
“Still so jumpy,” he murmurs, pulling his mouth away and then sitting up. He moves his right hand to my waist, matching its position on my other side with his left. I open my eyes to find that he’s still watching me, sliding his hands up and catching the hem of my shirt with his thumbs. Cal lifts it up and over my head, tossing it aside and then pressing his mouth against my lower belly.
He licks his way up, using those careful fingers of his to pull the cups of my bra down, freeing my breasts and the hardened pink points of my nipples to the warm air. It’s cozy inside this house, even if it’s bitingly cold outside. Aaron’s done a good job, making this place feel like home.
My hands dig into Callum’s blond hair as he puts his mouth to one of my nipples, sucking and licking, savoring the taste of me with a low murmur of appreciation.
“This is a good test for me, too,” he breathes, biting down on my right nipple and making me cry out. I curse myself under my breath, but if I listen carefully, I can still hear the girls shrieking and playing on the other side of the wall. Nobody heard me. Not yet anyway. “There’s so much more I could be doing to you right now.”
I shiver as his hands drift along my ribs to my upper back, unhooking my bra and letting it fall to my lap.
“Get on the bed,” he tells me, his voice dark and low, his own hands shaking as he stands up, wincing slightly with the movement and then rubbing at one of his knees. That’s the most damaged part of him, the most scarred. I can only imagine the constant pain he must live with.
I nestle into the pillows, hoping he’ll get naked before he joins me. Instead, he stays fully clothed, boots and all, as he climbs onto the bed. Starting at my left foot, he kisses his way back up and over the mound of pale hair between my thighs, getting just close enough to my clit to make me squirm without actually taking away any of that desperate aching.
His right hand covers my bare breast, kneading the soft round weight with his fingers as he licks around the nipple on the opposite side. His tongue is hot and slick, but he keeps it just far enough away from the pink point that it feels like I’m going crazy.
“Breathe,” he repeats, placing a palm flat on my chest as he lifts his mouth to mine, kissing me with slow, languid movements that promise we have all the time in the world. In reality, we’re both functioning on borrowed time. With all the shit we have going on, we know that forever cannot and will not be promised by anyone or anything.
Callum bites my lower lip hard, stopping just short of making me bleed, pressing down on my chest with his hand to keep me calm. It’s a struggle, especially as he kisses along the edge of my jaw to my ear, and bites that, too. I’m writhing now, but at least I’m still breathing, and very quietly, too. That, and I’m not making a single other sound, not even when he begins to suck on my neck, tasting my thrumming pulse with his tongue.
My legs spread wide, wrapping around him, wanting more and finding myself denied. He won’t grind against me, won’t touch me between the thighs. At least, he doesn’t for a good fifteen minutes. Maybe more. Maybe a half an hour.
