Calico (33 page)

“The present and the future can’t change the past,” he whispers. “But the passing of time makes the pain at our backs less severe. All we have to do is face forward and look into the light. Behind us may be dark, bluebird, but I know it in my bones. There are great things up ahead.”

EPILOGUE

CORALIE

Colorado

I rarely think about my time in Los Angeles. It seems so surreal now, to imagine that I spent so long there, living such a strange, muted life. I told Tina when I was back in Port Royal that I preferred working alone in my studio, never really seeing anyone from day to day, and at the time I believed that. That changed when Callan and I moved to Colorado, though. The house we bought overlooks the North Platte River, over an endless sea of forest and mountains, and I’ve started hosting artist retreats. People come from all over the country to stay in the tiny cabins we’ve had built on our land, and I teach them how to paint and draw. It’s far more rewarding than the solitary existence I used to live.
 

Callan still has to travel for shoots, but he’s home more often than he’s not these days. He’s stopped doing fashion photography altogether. He almost solely works for wildlife and nature magazines, which he seems to enjoy way more than the lifestyle and studio stuff.
 

We climb. We hike. We swim. We make love. We make love
a lot
. Being with Callan again seems to have awoken me sexually. I was a kid when I lost my virginity to him. Sex was so new and kind of overwhelming. I was always scared that I was going to do something wrong, that I wasn’t going to satisfy him. That isn’t a problem anymore, though. I know how to drive him crazy, and he knows how to tip me over the edge. We’ve spent hour upon hour exploring each other’s bodies, telling each other what feels good. We’ve spent so much time in bed over the past
 
ten months that there technically shouldn’t be anything left for us to discover about each other, and yet whenever he lays his hands on me it feels new. Fresh. Exciting.

I’m sorting through my materials, reliving the last time Callan went down on me, shivering slightly, when I hear the front door slam downstairs. I jump, dropping a plastic container full of paintbrushes onto the floor, and they spill from the box, rolling across the bare floorboards.
 

“Bluebird!” Downstairs, Callan hollers out for me. I hear a loud thud and then two more thuds as he kicks off his shoes. It’s a habit of his—the wall in the entrance way is scuffed and marked from where he kicks his Chucks off and they hit the paintwork every time he comes home. “Bluebird, where are you?”

I grin, running out of the studio and onto the landing. Looking over the handrail of the bannister, I find him leaning against kitchen doorframe, looking up at me with a huge, cheesy grin plastered across his own face, too. “There she is,” he says. “What are you up to, bluebird?”

“Tidying. What are
you
up to? You’re not meant to get back until tomorrow.” I run down the stairs and throw my arms around his next, laughing as he kisses my face, all over my cheeks, my forehead and my temples.
 

“I got an earlier flight. I wanted to see you,” he tells me. “I missed you. And I know you missed me. Your vibrator’s probably got steam coming off it from all the over-use.”

“Hey! So cheeky.” I slap his arm, but he’s kind of right. I’m so used to having regular, twice-daily sex with him now that going without it for a week is pretty damn tough. “Why didn’t you call me? I could have come and picked you up at the airport.”

“Because I wanted to surprise you.” He kisses the end of my nose. “Today’s our anniversary.”
 

I panic for a moment, wondering how the hell I could have forgotten, but then I realize he’s wrong. We’ve only been together ten months. Ten months since my father died. Ten months since I ended things with Ben, and Callan ended things with Rae. Ten months of pure bliss together. “I’m afraid you’re a little premature,” I tell him, tugging his bottom lip between my teeth.
 

Callan’s eyes sparkle in the most dangerous way. “When have you ever known
me
to be premature, bluebird,” he whispers. Sliding his hand inside my shirt, he traces his fingers up until they hit my bra. He pinches my nipple through the thin fabric, making me shiver.
 

“We’ve been together less than a year,” I tell him. “We’ve still got another nine weeks until August. So
now
. You’re premature
now
.” I can hardly concentrate on what I’m saying though. Having his hands on me is very distracting, especially when he’s cupping and kneading my breasts. He fixes me in his gaze, staring at me hungrily as he makes me pant.
 

“It’s our ten month anniversary,” he says, smiling. “And I can’t wait any longer to give you your gift, I’m afraid. But first…” He claims me with his mouth, pressing his lips over mine, his tongue darting past my teeth to lick and taste me. He holds me close to him, his hands strong, one on my lower back, the other cupping the back of my neck as he kisses me. It’s an intense kiss. A Hollywood kiss that leaves me breathless, flustered and turned on in equal parts. Callan eventually stops trying to make me come with his mouth alone and he takes a step back. “Come up to the tank,” he says. “I have something I want to show you.”

The tank is the name he gave to his permanent dark room on the second floor. I arch an eyebrow at him, sending him a bemused look. “What’s it worth?”

“It’s worth me not putting you over my knee and spanking you for being insubordinate. That good enough?” He looks like he’s actually thinking about that, though, and from the expression on his face he thinks it would be a great idea. Maybe he wants me to be insubordinate after all.

“I guess I’d better get moving then, huh?”

Callan slaps me on the ass as I turn and run up the stairs. He gives me a head start and then comes charging after me, thundering up the stairs. I throw a glance over my shoulder to see if he’s gaining on me and I catch him almost falling over as he hits the top landing and skids in his socks. I can’t help myself; I let out a bark of laughter and Callan swears. “You’ll pay for that, Taylor.”

I squeal, dashing down the hallway. I reach the door to the tank two seconds before Callan—long enough for me to duck inside the room and try to slam the door on him, but not long enough to be successful. He jams his body in the gap, laughing like a maniac as I try to push him out and close the door.
 

“Give in gracefully and I’ll let you keep you panties on when I spank you,” he says.

“Never.” I’m panting, out of breath, ribs aching from laughing so hard.
 

“So be it.” He gives the door an almighty shove and I can’t keep him out any longer. I stagger back and he prowls into the room, staring up at me from under his dark brows, a predator on the hunt for his prey. “You’re in trouble now,” he says.
 

I have nowhere to go. I glance around the room, looking for an escape route past him, but the tank isn’t all that big and it’s cluttered with developing benches and digital print equipment. There was a time when I would have freaked out in this situation. If Ben had tried chasing me about, threatening me with a spanking, I would have blacked out. I probably would have stabbed him with a kitchen knife. Things are different with Callan, though. I trust him implicitly. He will never hurt me. He’ll never do anything to endanger me. He takes a step forward, holding up his hands. He looks like he’s surrendering, but I can see the wicked glint in his eyes and I know better.
 

“Might as well hand yourself over, bluebird. I’ll make it enjoyable, I swear.”

I know he’s telling the truth, it really will be enjoyable, but there’s something so thrilling about him coming for me like this. Giving up just wouldn’t be any fun. I dodge behind his workbench, trying to keep a straight face. “You’re gonna have to come and get me,” I say, shrugging.
 

“All right. You asked for it.” I expect him to come at me from the left, so I’m already skirting the opposite way, but he plants his hands on the bench between us and vaults over it, right in front of me. He grabs me, wrapping his arms around me, and I know it’s over. There’s nowhere for me to go now. I struggle for a second, unable to breathe, laughing too hard to make any sense as I beg him to let me go.
 

Callan bites my neck, a low growl rumbling in the base of his throat. “I’m not gonna be kind now, bluebird. The panties are coming off and I’m gonna slap that perfect little ass of yours until it’s pink.”

I scream, trying to wriggle free but the man has a vice-like grip on me. “Pleasepleaseplease! Let me go. I have work to do. I need to go grocery shopping. I haven’t shaved my legs.”

“What does any of that have to do with the hiding I’m about to give you?” He nips at my neck again, sending a jolt of electricity shooting down my arms and legs.
 

“Callan, don’t you dare!” I gasp. I still haven’t stopped laughing. Still can’t breathe properly. He’s smirking like the devil himself as he kisses me. I try to wrestle free again, but his mouth is hot and demanding and he’s impossible to resist. I fall slack in his arms, releasing myself to him, allowing him to take me. It’s not long before I’m lost in the kiss, lost in him as he loosens his grip on me and begins to stroke his hands up and down my body.
 

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he whispers.
 

“I missed you, too.”
 

Callan makes short work of removing my clothes. After all the chasing and pretending, I’m all too eager to have his hands on my bare skin. He kicks the door closed and hits the red light. He strips out of his clothes quickly, and I watch, my heart thrumming frantically as he loses his shirt, and then his socks, jeans and his boxers. Our bodies are bathed in crimson, both of us a study in light and shadow. Callan sits himself down on the bar stool he keeps stowed under his bench and he pats his knee.
 

“Come on, then. Better get this over with.” He looks so sinister in this light, grinning at me like he wants to eat me up. My nipples are hard, aching, and I’m wet already, turned on by the mere thought of what is about to happen.
 

“You’d better be nice,” I tell him.
 

“I’ll see what I can do.”
 

I bend myself over his lap, feeling flushed and warm. I want him so fucking bad. My body is so attuned to him now, so used to fitting into place with him. I want him inside me.
Need
him inside me. I know I’ll have what I want soon enough. But first, Callan seems intent on having his way with me.
 

The first time his hand comes down on my behind, I yelp, not expecting the sharp pain. It hurts, but it also feels ridiculously good. Callan hisses. “Again?” he asks. He’s giving me the option of refusing, but he knows I won’t take it.
 

“Again.”

“Mmm. Good.” His hand comes down on me again, even harder this time. I have to bite my lip to prevent myself from crying out. Underneath me, Callan’s cock presses up against my breasts, growing harder and harder by the second. After my fourth strike, I can tell he’s losing will power. He wants to fuck me just as badly I need him to.
 

“You want me yet, bluebird?” he whispers, wrapping my hair around his clenched fist. He pulls, hard enough that my head is tugged back so I have to look at him.
 

“Yes. God,
please
, Callan.”

“You’re such a good girl to ask so politely.” He snakes an arm around my waist, lifting me off his lap. My feet don’t touch the floor. Sitting me down on his workbench, he spreads my legs and ducks down, gently licking at my pussy. He groans the first time his tongue touches me, applying a commanding pressure against my clit. “Fuck, you taste amazing, bluebird. I just want to eat you up.”

And he does. He licks and sucks and teases, making my body tremble and quake, making me fall apart. He knows when I’m about to come. As I start to tumble over the edge, he pushes his fingers inside me and it feels like there are fireworks going off inside my head.
 

“Fuck, Callan. Shit.
Shit
!”

“Come on, Coralie. Come for me. Let me taste it.” Callan pumps his fingers inside me, the fingers of his free hand digging into my thigh and my hip as he holds me down and pins me in place. I’m left panting, awestruck, undone. Callan kisses the insides of my thighs, whispering soft, pretty things to me as I float down from my high. I’m blissed out and numb when he pushes himself inside me.
 

“I’m going to make you come again, Coralie. Are you ready for it? Are you going to scream my fucking name?” He’s so big inside me, so fucking hard. I can’t speak, so I just nod, ready for him to do as he’s promised.
 

It doesn’t take long. I’m still so sensitive from his mouth. Having him inside me is intense—I’m shaking, shivering, barely able to control my own body as Callan fucks me. He doesn’t hold back. I lay back down on the bench and he palms my breasts, licking and biting my nipples as he rocks his hips, thrusting inside me, harder and harder each time. I can feel him getting close. I hook my legs around his waist, pinning him against me, grinding my hips against his, and the most delicious darts of pleasure ricochet through me as I start to come.
 

“Oh shit. Fuck, I’m gonna come, Callan. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

He tenses. I can tell he wants to pull back, to ease off, to drag this out a little longer, but I can’t take it. I need to feel him coming inside me. I need to hear him lose his mind, the same way I’m about to lose mine.
 

“All right. You want it?” he growls. “I’ll give it to you.” He fucks me hard. He slams himself inside me over and over again, until I’m pulled under, drowning in waves of pleasure. Callan drowns with me, pants with me, cries out with me. I cling onto him as we both come, lost in the moment, covered in sweat. He is perfect.