when I’m being rushed. It’s not my best quality, but there’s no getting around it. And Callum has a bad habit of announcing that we need to leave the penthouse with little to no warning. And I’m completely at his mercy. So here we are—in the passenger seat of Callum’s car where I’m tucking the dress I slept in into a pair of scrubs because I didn’t have enough time to actually change. I was lucky to put my bra back on before I was being herded into the elevator.
We crossed over into Brooklyn at some point a while back, and the buildings passing outside the car window are becoming less descript and more industrial. Turning onto side streets, we move further and further from civilization, instead driving through alleys and remote driveways until we slow in front of a large rectangular building.
“Are you really going to make me go in there?” I ask, taking in the monstrosity that looms as our car circles around back. By the size of it, I would guess this used to be a manufacturing plant of some sort. The old concrete structure with broken, boarded up windows really paints the picture of neglect and decay. I’ve seen enough true crime documentaries to know that nothing good happens in abandoned-looking warehouses like this one. And by the state of this building, I wouldn’t surprised if it’s haunted too.
“Yes, I am.” He’s clearly not giving me a choice. He taps something into his phone and suddenly there’s movement. One of the old loading bay garage doors starts to roll upwards, and Callum inches closer. .
Once the garage door is lifted high enough to clear the car, we’re pulling forward. Two lights cast a dim glow over the small section where we park, the rest of the building disappearing in ominous shadows. My heart plummets when Callum shifts gears into park and turns off the ignition.
“I hate this place. No one should ever come in here without a death wish,” I inform him, my eyes scanning the darkness like something might jump out at me if I look too long.
“That’s the point,” Callum responds simply. He’s barely glanced at me since our little makeout session in the kitchen. Okay, little isn’t exactly the word for it—not with the heavy petting and whole ice cube thing. I’m trying not to overthink it.
Callum’s shoulders are tense when he exits the car, his expression menacing. The man I was with in the penthouse an hour ago is long gone, leaving me with the Fixer. I can practically see the wheels turning in his head behind those intense hazel eyes of his. He looks formidable.
“What is this place?” My eyes are darting around the ominous building riddled with shadows. The industrial structure and use of steel tells me that this building was once a factory of some kind. But looking at the corrosion and disrepair, it’s definitely no longer in use. At least for the building’s original purpose. Despite the drab depreciation of the original structure; the chipped somber paint, scuffed metal bars, and worn concrete floors, we’re here.
I pause too long near a doorway and a strong hand grasps my arm to lead me forward. Judging by the fact that Callum seems to know his way around, he’s been here before. More than once. There’s a chill in the air that adds to the seriously sinister vibes this place is giving off.
“This building is definitely haunted,” I say looking into an empty office as we pass, fully expecting to see a demon’s face peering back at me.
“Come on, Dewdrop.” Callum’s hold on my wrist tightens ever so slightly as he leads me through the shadowy halls. The fluorescent lighting is only so effective, especially since only every third light is on, allowing darkness to creep in between where the illumination of one light ends and the next begins. I inch closer to his side, doing my best to keep up with his brisque pace. Right now I’m not a big fan of Callum’s habit for secrecy. If this man doesn’t kill me, the suspence definitely will.
“I just want to go on the record and say that I don’t like this part of the job. Walking around in places like this is how you end up the subject in a true crime documentary,” I say. Callum glances down at me, this time actually looking as his lips twitch in amusement.
“Noted.” Is the only response I get.
I was right, nothing good happens in a building like this. The long foreboding hallway opens up into an expansive room with ceilings over two stories high. Old industrial shelving sits empty and forgotten at one end of the space. But that’s not what catches my attention.
I can hear them before I see them, the sound echoing through the warehouse. Shouting, incoherent and angry, spewing nonsense and profanities. Just like the night in the storage room that started all of this, a man sits tied to a metal chair. Only this one isn’t comatose, though he’s definitely broken. His eyes are crazed as he gnashes his teeth, his mouth practically foaming with his screaming. Roscoe stands in front of him, knife in hand. The blade looks clean, so the blood dripping from the psycho man’s face must be from something else.
Three men I’ve never seen before create a radius around the captive, looking like real goons. There’s a small table set up a few feet from the chair the man is secured to, waiting for me to set up camp. It’s a visual reminder that I have to get close to the deranged stranger, and the idea of having to touch him has dread settling over me heavily.
“I have a bad feeling about this.” I’m fighting against the sinking feeling in my stomach as we get closer to the crazed man. He’s absolutely seething, his glassy eyes manic. Callum pulls me closer and leans down to speak into my ear as he propels me towards the sinister scene.
“Roscoe has him secure, and that door leads outside,” he says, nodding his head to a metal door along the back wall. “You’re safe, Dewdrop. You’re not going to end up in any true crime documentaries.” I believe that. A man like Callum knows how to get rid of any and all traces of evidence. If something does happen, no one will ever know that I was here.
Approaching the group, I stop a safe distance away and focus on setting up the small table for treatment. I’ll have to get a better look to know exactly what I need to treat him, but I start off by laying out the basics; gauze, suture kit, local anesthetic, disinfectant. Callum doesn’t hesitate to get closer until he’s towering over the captive.
“Well if it isn’t the bastard we’ve been waiting for.” The man sneers, glassy eyes gleaming. “You’re a dead man walking.”
“Big words for someone who doesn’t even know my name.” Callum’s hand clamps under the man’s jaw, forcing his mouth shut and his head up to examine his eyes. His pupils are blown out, and a thin line of blood trails down from his inflamed nose to his top lip.
“Is he high on cocaine?” I ask, staring at the captive man from my safe distance.
“Among other things,” Callum says. “Fucking idiot, sampling your own product.”
“That was some good shit you gave me. Columbian, right? You’re gonna give me more or I’ll destroy you. I might be a Finch but I’ll sing like a canary.” His tone switches from taunting to raging in a single breath, spit flying from his mouth on the last words.
“And who are you planning on telling, Finch? Mikhailov is the one who gave me the green light.” Callum replies calmly, seemingly unfazed. He shoves the man’s head back before taking a step, turning his back to the man without a care in the world. He walks over to Roscoe, who leans in to mutter something to his boss I can’t hear.
“Mikhailov might know, but what about the rest of them? I know enough about how this works. One right word and it’s war. Once the Russians find out Alek’s arrest was a set up, you’re fucked.” his maniacal laugh sends a shiver down my spine and his eyes land on me, pupils dilated. “Your fat bitch is fucked too. They’ll have fun raping and torturing her after they kill you. Maybe I’ll even take a turn, make you choke on my cock. I can’t wait to hear you scream while I tear open your fat ass and watch you bleed.”
The man’s profanities are silenced when his head jerks violently to one side, blood and brain-matter spraying out the opposite side of his skull. Cold shock settles into my bloodstream, my eyes wide on the now lifeless man staring through me. Tearing my eyes away, I slowly turn my head to see the gun Callum holds aimed at the dead mobster, a silencer extending the barrel towards me.
He killed him, he fucking killed him. Callum shot him in the head, and now he’s dead. Dread churns my iron stomach, threatening to make me sick.
We both know it’s pointless when I reach down to check for a pulse. Glancing up at Callum’s unapologetic eyes, he knows I won’t find one.
“He’s dead,” I state the obvious to everyone in the room. Looking down at the body, I can feel Callum’s gaze on me, burning. The feeling of his eyes on me doesn’t leave as he barks orders to the other men. I watch numbly as two goons step forward to untie the bloodied body from the chair and haul it away.
Struggling to breathe through my pounding heart, I lean down to start collecting the medical supplies laid out on the short table. There’s no use for any of this now. A dead man doesn’t need stitches.
Dead.
I’ve seen death before, I work in a hospital. I’m a fucking ER nurse for crying out loud. But this, this is different.
Murder.
Callum is a killer. I’ve never seen that look in his eyes before, the emptiness. His look of blank calculation lacked any empathy or remorse. He pulled that trigger and ended a man’s life like it was an item on his to-do list, like it was the next step in an equation where death was the clear and simple solution.
A cold calm settles over me as I close the kit and snap the latches closed. The panic and fear have twisted into something far more troubling—numbness. Acceptance. I turn on my heel and walk towards the door. Passing Callum where he stands overseeing the cleanup process, I can barely meet his eyes. I don’t think I can stomach ever seeing that emptiness again.
“I’m done,” I state coldly, my declaration landing heavily in the air between us. I say it knowing I’m tempting fate. But instead of waiting to see what my announcement ignites, I continue walking quickly towards the exit.
I barely make it out of the building when a strong hand grabs my wrist and I’m being backed against the rough brick wall. The medical kit clatters to the ground, ignored and forgotten. Trying to catch my breath, I stare up at Callum, who has me pinned between his large frame and the building. Our eyes lock, and I can’t help the relief that I’m not staring into the gaze of a calculated killer. Callum’s heated expression emulates fury and passion, threatening to swallow me whole.
“What did you just say to me?” It’s a challenge, a warning to change my answer instead of repeating myself. It doesn’t work.
“I’m done.” This time I say it slowly, purposefully enunciating each word.
“You’re not done.”
“You killed him. Shot him in cold blood.”
“He was a threat, so I fixed it,” he says simply with no remorse. Like it’s just that easy.
“You fixed it,” I repeat with a bitter laugh.
“That’s what I do, Dewdrop.”
“And at what point are you going to fix me?”
“I only fix problems. There’s no running from it, you’re in this now.” Suddenly it feels like he’s talking about a lot more than just a job. Something much heavier and more terrifying. “You’re not done.”
“Let go of me.” The feeling of his solid body against mine should be sickening. The same hand that pulled a trigger to end a life not five minutes ago touching my skin should repulse me. Instead I’m fucking turned on. Our chemistry is buzzing between us as sparks fly and it’s infuriating. Because I shouldn’t want this man to be touching me at all.
But I do.
“Go back to the car and wait for me,” Callum orders before taking a step back, making my burning blood boil. He turns his head to address the man I hadn’t realized had joined us in the alley, his eyes never leaving me. “Roscoe, go with her.”
“I don’t need a chaperone,” I snap, reaching down to snag the medical kit off the dirty ground. With the rage that’s powering through me at the moment not even Satan himself could challenge me and win. Whatever’s waiting for me in the shadows can do their worst.
Callum’s struggling against his restraint, his expression flickering between cold indifference and fierce intensity. His hands starts twitching at his sides, moving to reach out to me once or twice before he thinks better of it and pulls them back. I can practically see him wrestling with the urge to throw me over his shoulder like a caveman. The man’s computer brain is glitching. I’d probably find it amusing it I wasn’t so damn pissed.
“Have fun dealing with the body,” I say bitterly as I step around him to stalk back into the wretched building. Walking straight past Roscoe, I shoot a glare at him when he attempts to open the door for me. He’s not innocent in this either.
The inside of the warehouse passes in front of my eyes unseen as I stomp back to where Callum parked the car. I’ll admit I slammed the car door shut behind me a little harder than I should have. There’s no calming me down, even sitting alone in the silence. Wrestling out of my scrubs until it’s just my dress, I whip the balled up fabric into the back seat.
It’s a good thirty minutes before Callum climbs into the driver’s seat beside me. The car ride is spent in an uncomfortable silence and the tension grows thicker by the second. The elevator ride up to the penthouse is even worse. I feel like I’m in a room with a ticking timebomb. I’m not sure which one of us will explode first, but it will be catastrophic either way.
Turns out the sound of the elevator ding when we reach the top floor is the last straw. Something shifts in the air that feels final and unforgiving—the point of no return.
As soon as the doors slide open I’m making my escape—rushing into the apartment and heading to the nearest door to close. I end up in the guest bathroom in the entryway. Callum is right on my heels before I slam the door shut in his face and flip the lock.
“Open the fucking door, Lexie. Don’t make me break it down to come get you.” My heart hammers in my chest at the dark threat in his voice. He means it, he’ll come in after me. Anger flares in me, my defiance mixing with dread. I have two options here; open the door myself, or let him break it down. Both end the same—with me face to face dealing with the wrath of a furious Callum.
Hand trembling slightly, I flip the lock and slowly open the door. There’s no way I’m gonna show him how rattled I really am, so I square my shoulders to face him. Callum’s storming the door the second it’s open, stalking towards me until I’m backed against the wall. He doesn’t stop until we’re chest to chest and I’m forced to tilt my head back to look up at him.
“You’re a sociopath.” My barb hits him without inflicting any damage. His eyes move across my face in dark possession, sending potent lust pooling between my legs as my heart rate jumps.
“What pisses you off more, hmm? The fact that I’m a killer? Or that it doesn’t stop you from getting wet for me?”
“I hate you,” I snap angrily, shoving against his chest to put some space between us. It’s pointless, the man is as moveable as a mountain. He catches my wrists and pins them to the wall above my head, taking a step closer just to make a point. He’s bigger than me, stronger than me, and a sadistic control freak who needs to assert his dominance. My pulse jumps, breasts heaving with each dramatic breath.
“You’re a terrible liar, Dewdrop,” he states, his observant gaze on me is full of heated intent.
“I wish I never met you.” This time it’s not a lie. This man has completely taken over my life and turned it inside out. He’s turned me inside out.
“Regret is a waste of time, there’s no going back. You’re mine now.” His deep voice rolls over me as he presses closer, his knee pushing between my legs to spread them open and rub against me where heat is already starting to pool. Anger and frustration radiates from him, mixed with something in his eyes that I can’t quite decipher. He’s so close, leaning over me with his face just inches from mine. “There’s no pretending. You want me as much as I want you.”
“Don’t.” There’s no conviction in my voice as it trails off, my eyes latched on his lips.
“Don’t, what? Touch you?” Callum challenges, pressing closer. The intent in his gaze dares me to end this. “Tell me to stop.” He leaves one hand to keep my wrists pinned against the wall above my head, the other slipping under my jaw to take hold of my throat possessively. Desire pulses through me from the pressure of him as my head tilts up just a fraction, bringing my lips a breath away from his.
“Would you even listen?” I ask, not even bothering to hide how aroused I am right now. I need him, every inch of my body is screaming to feel every inch of his.
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” he says without hesitation. “I don’t want a woman who doesn’t want me.” His meaning is clear, and if that doesn’t make him even hotter. His eyes are roaming over my face like I’m a meal he’s about to devour.
“Good.” I’m practically breathless. “I don’t want a man who doesn’t take what they want.” This man is going to take me, rough, and hard, and without mercy. And god, do I want him to.
“I’m going to do so much more than take you, Dewdrop.” His voice vibrates through me, tickling every nerve ending in my body. “I’m going to own you.” When his mouth lowers to mine, he doesn’t kiss me—he devours me. His lips take mine in an all consuming kiss that doesn’t allow me to catch my breath.
The hand on my throat wanders downwards until he’s palming my left breast greedily. Even through my dress and bra, his rough hands seem to burn straight to my skin. A moan escapes me when he squeezes my aching breast almost painfully. The discomfort just adds to my bliss with his assault on my senses.
After toying with my chest, Callum’s grip lowers. He’s running his hand up the back of my thigh, over my ass, then around to my center. His fingertips brush along the waistline of my panties, giving the elastic a little snap, before cupping my pussy firmly.
“Fuck.” The exclamation is pulled out of me. I’m not ready when his fingers push past the sheer fabric and straight into my folds. Arching against him, I’m breathless. “Oh god.”
“Don’t move.” The order is muttered right into my ear as his fingers move against me, exploring for a torturous moment before plunging into me, hard and fast. My gasp is involuntary, and it takes everything in me not to arch into his touch. But I keep still as his fingers invade me in the most powerful and delicious way.
“Good girl.” Those two words, said deeply into my ear, have me teetering on the edge of euphoria. Another moan escapes me, and my restrained hands push against his as I fight my body to remain still instead of giving in to the pleasure. “Fuck, you’re so wet and responsive. If I had any patience left, I’d take my time sucking every last drop from you, Dewdrop.”
“I’m so close,” I pant, teetering on the brink as his fingers drive me to insanity. “Oh, yes.”
“Not yet.” The command is accompanied by a relentless pace as his fingers work inside me. My eyes latch to his, the piercing gaze as unrelenting as his masterful hands. The wave building inside me intensifies, and I’m on the brink. I know he can see it in my eyes, can feel it. “Not yet.”
“I don’t think I can stop it,” I gasp, overwhelmed by the sensations threatening to drown me.
“You’ll wait.” His authoritative tone leaves no room to argue. My body shivers as I fight against the orgasm looming, my breathing becoming erratic against the sensual torture. “Ask me nicely to let you come. Beg me.”
The shivers turn into shakes, and I’m delirious against his hands. The agony is so delicious, I can hardly stand it. I need to come. “Callum.”
“Beg me,” he repeats, his rhythm never faltering. If I don’t come soon, I might die. My breathless pants turn into moans as I hold on for dear life. His hand moves from my wrists to lift my chin. The moment our eyes meet, I know I’ll say anything.
“Please, Callum. Let me come,” I beg, without shame. The raw hunger in his eyes only intensifies, if that’s even possible.
“Come for me, Dewdrop.” His hand on my chin keeps our eyes locked as I shatter into a million pieces. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me, until I’m seeing stars. And his fingers never stop moving, drawing out my orgasm until I’m breathless. “Fuck, you’re such a beautiful, dirty girl for me.”
“I am, oh god. Yes,” I breathe. I barely have time to catch my breath before the intent in Callum’s eye forces him into action. It’s like he can’t stand and watch for another minute without being inside me.
“Turn around.” Even as he says it, he’s moving me and I’m being bent over the sink, my ass in the air. I don’t have time for questions as he flips up my dress and tugs down my underwear.
I stand in delicious agony, chest braced against the vanity and my hand gripping the counter, as I wait. My level of anticipation rises with the sound of his belt buckle, then his zipper. I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear the condom until I hear the crinkling of the wrapper ripping.
Just like his fingers, his cock gives no warning before he’s plunging inside me, deep and hard. There’s no finessing or teasing, just need and domination. My back bows with the strength of my gasp, my hands keeping me steady as his cock drives into me.
“Fuck, your pussy is made for me.” His grunts turn into growls as he slams into me. His cock is as harsh and unforgiving as the rest of him. He’s stretching me, filling me so completely I feel like I’m in danger of bursting. My moans are a mix of pleasure and discomfort.
“You’re so big,” I all but sob. It’s almost too much, his power is almost painful. I’m sure his grip on my hips will leave bruises as I hold onto the sink base for dear life.
“You’ll take it. All of it.” His pace is punishing, both brutal and delicious. My nerve endings fire, the pleasure almost blinding as it builds quickly inside me. “Fuck, you feel so good. You like that, my dirty girl?”
“Yes, god yes.” The words are ripped out of me as he relentlessly pounds us both into oblivion. Still sensitive from my first orgasm, this stimulation is almost too much to handle. The edges of my vision blur as a new orgasm builds inside me. “I’m going to come.”
“Not until I say so.” I could cry at his demand, my body wrecked from the pleasure and screaming for release. Holding back this climax is the hardest thing I think I’ve ever done.
“Callum, please,” I plead, his cock plundering so deeply I’m pretty sure I can feel him in my throat. He’s so powerful, it’s all too much. “Please.”
“Fuck, I love hearing you say my name. You’re such a greedy girl, scream as you come on my cock.” He barely finishes his words before I’m falling. This orgasm is even more powerful than the first, lifting me to heights I’ve never known before. Fuck.
“You’re like a vice, gripping me so tightly with your perfect pussy.” Callum grunts in my ear. “You feel so fucking good.” I’ve barely come down from my climax before another is building. His angle changes, and I let out a cry as he hits a wonderful spot deep inside me.
“Oh Callum, yes. Right there, shit.” He growls in satisfaction, his strokes possessive as he takes a fistful of my hair. He tugs my head back until I’m looking into his eyes over my shoulder while he slams in and out of me. He doesn’t slow as his lips capture mine. It almost seems like his strokes become more intense as he kisses me.
“Who does this perfect pussy belong to?” He growls against my lips.
“You.” I reply eagerly, desperate for the orgasm that’s building between us, growing and looming bigger than anything else I’ve ever felt. Bigger than even the two life altering ones I’ve already had tonight.
“Say it.” His teeth catch my bottom lip, tugging roughly.
“It’s yours, Callum.”
“Mine. Only mine.” He pulls back, his hand in my hair keeping my head in place. His eyes hold mine, refusing to let me look away. His breathing changes, and I can see he’s on the edge of his own release. “Come for me, Dewdrop.”
The release is immediate, a fire licking through me burning so hot and bright that I’m completely consumed. My back arches, lips parting when my breath hitches with the force of it. Hazel eyes are all I see, stars floating across my vision. The pleasure pounds against me like the sea clashing against a cliff, wave after wave of euphoria hitting me until I’m spent.
“Oh, Cal. Yes, yes.” His name tumbles from my mouth over and over, my pussy clenched tightly around his cock.
Callum’s movements become more ragged, feral. He has me right where he wants me, where he needs me. His grip on my hair tightens sharply, his eyes never leaving my face as he explodes inside me, pumping roughly through the power of his own release. His arms shake against me, growls turning into guttural groans.
“Fuck, Lexie,” he groans, a deep primal rasp edging his voice. He slows and my head is being pulled back again until my lips meet his in a languid kiss, his giant frame all but collapsing onto mine. Pulling my lips away, I struggle to catch my breath. Even being crushed beneath a tattooed giant, I’m floating. My body is in a cloud of bliss that I may never come down from. And I never want to.
“Damn.” Callum’s nose presses into my hair with a deep inhale, nipping lightly at the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder, then soothing it with his lips. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Dewdrop,” he mutters deeply. My mouth opens, but no sound comes out as I lay in a daze. The man has fucked me into a stupor. Callum smiles against my skin.
“What, nothing to say?” he taunts, sucking on a pulse point that sends electricity rushing through me. “I’ve finally found a way to leave you speechless. I’ll have to remember this.” His chuckle washes over me, and it’s comforting. More than comforting, it’s strangely endearing.
I don’t have too long to toy with the Pandora’s box that is my tangled mess of feelings. Callum’s using his powerful arms to lift himself and he’s pulling out of me. I don’t move, allowing him to discard the condom. He grabs one of the hand towels from the rack and gently wipes the mess from my thighs. He takes his time, giving special care in a way that surprises me. His hands now are in complete contrast of how roughly he just took me in this exact position.
Even after he’s cleaned us both up, my legs are jello as I lay limp across the vanity counter. I’m still shaking with the aftershocks, and I know my legs won’t support me right now. Exhaustion is clawing at the backs of my eyes. Maybe I’ll just take a nap right here and recover for a few hours before I attempt to walk. I doubt I’d even make it to my bed as it is right now. The man has thoroughly fucked me into a simmering puddle of satiated pleasure.
Strong arms scoop me from the counter, and I’m being lifted into the air. Callum cradles me against his giant muscled frame, carrying me out of the bathroom like I weigh next to nothing. Where is he getting this strength? I weigh over two-hundred pounds, and with that pounding he just put us both through, I don’t know how he has any energy left.
My eyes are half closed as he walks, the swaying lulling me closer to unconsciousness. When he lowers me onto a bed, something feels off. These sheets don’t feel right. Opening my eyes, I realized weren’t not where I expected to be. This isn’t my bed, it’s his. I’m in Callum’s room.
While I’m looking around in confusion, Callum’s kicking off his shoes and tugging off his shirt before climbing into the bed next to me. What is happening right now? Why would he bring me to his bed, and expect me to lay in it with him? I open my mouth to ask him, but he rolls over to lay on me before I get a word out.
His arms circle my waist, his head on my chest, face burying into my breasts. I can’t tell if he’s trying to suffocate himself with my tits, or use me as a pillow. But either way I’m stuck. My weighted panda has nothing on the solid weight of Callum’s giant body. I can’t remember the last time I felt so secure, being pressed into the plush mattress like this. I can already feel the tension and anxiety melting away.
“Fuck, I love how soft you are.” He mutters against me, so quietly I can barely understand his muffled words. The edges of my vision blur as sleep starts to claim me. I can’t fight it anymore, my body is completely spent. As my eyes close, I can’t help the racing thoughts spinning in my head until I’m dizzy. But none catch before I’m being pulled under.
