Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Callisto

Callisto wasn't na?ve enough to think that they wouldn't need words at all for that they were going to do. She snatched her notebook off the desk. Communication was key. They were going to a bedroom that they were going to share for the first time. It might kill the romance that she didn't let Rory sweep her up like some prince and carry her off, through the threshold and ravish her, but she had to be practical.

Besides that, they weren't newlyweds. A shifter relationship was so much more complex than just the human aspect of a marriage. She wasn't knocking marriage by any means, but being mates was another level. Even humans mated to shifters would have to agree that it was different than having a human-human pairing.

The ravishing though? Even though it was going to be in a bed, and she used to have theories and rules against that, she was willing to give it a try for Rory.

Because she'd missed him.

Because she wanted him.

Because she knew that he was waiting for her and if she didn't let him know that she thought she was ready to have it mean something,he'd never make the first move.

Rory followed her to the bedroom. Inside, after he closed the door, she clutched her notebook to her chest. She stood there almost as awkwardly as Rory did, half a room and her neatly made up bed between them, a tall floor lamp glowing in the corner because she'd switched it on and shut all the blinds before going to Rory's office.

She walked to the bed and sat down, using her legs to steady the notebook. Rory walked over, since he wouldn't be able to read it from the other side of the room. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked about as nervous as a teenage boy about to do bedroom stuff for the first time. Bedroom stuff was her first time. It was her first time to experience any level of intimacy. Sex with her wasn't about softness, it was more like satisfying a need. And it was never in a bedroom, with a well-worn handstitched quilt on the bed and homey touches.

I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT ROMANCE. She gave a shrug.

Rory gaped at her, but quickly slammed his mouth shut. "Err…" He ran his fingers through his hair and looked all kinds of confused.

She crossed out what she'd just written and rephrased.

WILL YOU SHOW ME WHAT YOU LIKE?

He toed the floor. "What if you don't like it?"

A few months ago, she would have said he was absolutely right. Sex was a means to an end, a way to satisfy a craving. There had been no tenderness, no kissing, no soft words whispered in her ears. She had never wanted that, and the thought disgusted her. But now? She wanted this kind, brave, good, strong man more than anything and that want, that feeling in her chest, that tightening in her stomach that battled the butterflies—she wanted the soft words, she wanted the intimacy. It was like once the need for revenge had been taken away, something else had started to fill the hole. It had been gradual, but slowly she'd started to know herself. Callisto, the woman, and not Callisto, the avenger.

I'LL ENJOY ANYTHING AS LONG AS IT'S WITH YOU.

He gulped again, his nervousness settling her and charming her. Who would have thought that the very thing she'd sworn was most repulsive about a man, was what she fell for above all?

"We still should have a safe gesture."

She held up three fingers then set the notebook on the nightstand.

"Three? Like that?"

She nodded. Rory was so humble about his slow learning of ASL, but he did know how to sign every letter of the alphabet. She spelled it out for him.

I COULD ALWAYS JUST SAY STOP.

His broad smile made her heart race. Once, she would have found herself pathetic, but that judgement she'd levelled against herself was gone. The hole inside of her was still far from filled, the wounds of the past still fresh, but she didn't hurt nearly as badly as she used to and without the driving force to hurt other people, she'd found that she could devote so much more time to thinking. She thought about feeling and then she tried to practice it. Pounding fence posts for hours a day really helped her work on the lingering anger too.

S-T-O-P Rory spelled it out.

It wasn't something that should fill one with pride. It was so small, but it made her feel like she was glowing. She threw her arms around Rory's neck, the heat growing between her legs. She kissed him, slower and gentler than she had in his office. He was a good kisser. She'd never particularly found it a pleasing thing to do, but she could do this all night with him.

She did, for a while, before she stepped back and lifted her black tank top over her head. His eyes immediately cut to her breasts. Rory tried to snatch his gaze back up, but she slowly unhooked her bra, making a production of it, to show him that she didn't mind. He could look at her. It made her feel good, wanted, desired, to have his eyes on her, especially when they burned with hunger.

He was no good at hiding what he wanted. No good at pretending to be calculated, no good at playing silly games, no good at secrets—unless the secrets truly mattered. He would have taken hers to his grave if she'd asked him to, long before they were lovers or even friends. Kindness was a price most people weren't willing to pay, but for Rory, it seemed to cost him nothing. She knew it wasn't true, but he made it look so easy. He was good and he made her want to be better just by being around him.

He was inspiring.

It was especially inspiring when he ran his tongue along his lower lip and stared straight at her jeans, but she wasn't ready to take them off yet.

She grinned at him and shuffled off the bed, then dropped to her knees and put her hands on his jeans. She loved that his clothes were lived in to the point of being worn soft. He wasn't the kind of guy who put on a suit and wore two-thousand-dollar shoes, there was something real and grounded about him.

She wanted Rory's body, she wanted her body, and she wanted them together. At night. In the morning. Again, and again. That still scared her, but she was learning to get over it. She'd had a lot of time to rationalize it out in her head to make sure she knew what she truly wanted.

She looked up at him and spelled out very slowly, so he couldn't miss what she was telling him.

C-O-M-M-A-N-D-S.

"You want me to tell you what to do? Or tell you what I like?"

She shrugged and grinned, nodding once and then again. Meaning both. Either. Anything you want.

"Alright." He wasn't good at keeping the hitch out of his voice.

It made her hands shake as she unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped them. Her thoughts often made up for the silence of her mouth, and nowadays they were so much gentler. They weren't gentle now. They were heated. She felt like a vat of boiling water, a burner too hot with a pot too full, about to froth over.

"Take me out?"

He phrased it like a question, which made the swelling in her chest get bigger.

She did. Her heart beat hard when she reached into his boxers and wrapped her hand around his cock. She'd touched him before, felt the bulge of it pressed up against her, but she was a little bit surprised all over again at the size of him. Her heartbeat turned into something that throbbed between her legs. She was already wet for him and when it came time for him to undress her, he'd see just how much she wanted him.

She looked up at him, waiting. She thought he'd tell her awkwardly to suck him and that was it, but he surprised her. He ran his thumb along her lower lip. She loved that roughness, the heat of it. He parted her mouth and then he palmed his cock near the base. He literally fed it to her inch by inch. Silently and gently, but god damn, she approved anyway.

She took all of him with zero hesitation or struggle. He went slowly enough that she breathed around him, swallowing over and over again so she didn't gag. He did pull back when he felt her do it and she didn't grab for him to show him that she didn't mind. She let him set the pace, but it was clear that he was also taking his cues from her.

When he pulled back, she could taste the salt of him on her tongue. She liked that his hips thrust involuntarily, pushing and pulling back. She grasped his thighs, curling her hands around the denim. He groaned when she pressed hard enough for him to feel her nails. He thrust slowly, working his cock in and out of her mouth at a leisurely pace, but she could tell how much it cost him to stay in control and not just go buck fucking wild at it. She respected that control, and she enjoyed the feel of him, the way she could wrap her tongue around his head and run it down the length of his shaft, the taste of him and the thickness which made her jaw hurt slightly.

He liked her tongue. He liked it when she curled it around the underside and brought it back to the head. The moans that escaped his lips made her clit throb with want. His hand dropped to her hair, but he didn't grasp it or use it to pull her closer. He just left it there, and then he caressed her, smoothing his fingertips over her hair a few times. He was the one who grunted in pleasure when he did it, but it made her feel good too.

He eventually pushed in deeper, and she swallowed until he pulled back. He made feral noises, muted because they weren't alone in the house even if everyone else was asleep.

He gently lifted her head up until his eyes met hers, his gaze heavy with lust, "Okay. I like that. More than like. All of it. But… I'd like it even more if I could taste you, look at you, be inside of you."

Yeah. She'd like that too.

She watched as he shucked off his boxers and jeans and pretty much yanked his shirt right over his head. Once he was fully naked, her eyes feasted over the sight. His chest dusted with dark hair, his big, heavily muscled body looking like it was hewn from the earth. His cock, a magnificent thick rod that jutted out proudly. She'd never had sex with a shifter before, her one-night-only partners had all been human, and there was something so thrilling to know that she didn't need to hold anything back tonight. He divested her of her jeans and actually tore her panties trying to get them off in his desperation.

He grasped her around the hips and spun them both towards the bed. He fell on it, dragging her down on top of him. She spread her thighs so wide they burned. It wasn't easy to straddle him. She remembered that from the first time she'd done it. He might be gentle, but he was deliciously huge. His thigh muscles were like tree trunks.

He didn't hesitate to dip two fingers inside of her up the first knuckle. "Christ, you're soaked." She nodded and pointed at him. "For me." He seemed dazed. "Yes. For me."

She thought of a hundred depraved, filthy things she could say to him, but she grasped his cock and lowered herself down over him instead.

"Callisto…" Her name sounded so sweet, his breath in her ear. "I know you said you didn't want to be a mate or be a mother. Are you- if we do this, is it safe?"

She nodded. P-I-L-L, she spelled for him.

"I know that this is- that you're letting me in right now." He glanced down where she'd fitted him to her entrance. "Not that kind of in. I- I'm just going to be quiet now."

She kissed him, the whole room getting hot as flames burst between them. She slowly worked herself over him, sinking down slowly, taking him inch by inch. She liked that it hurt more than a little because he was so big. The pain was just more heat, more intense, more focused.

She put her hands on his shoulders as she lowered herself the rest of the way, taking him fully. She knew he was watching, so she watched him. She loved how every emotion flickered across his face, but the one that stayed was the raw desire, the wild need. She liked that one best.

She wanted to touch him as she moved. He seemed half scared to put his hands on her, so she took them and set them on her hips. He could feel her moving from every angle that way. She communicated with her hands, and she used them to learn the planes of his face. Her fingers skimmed his forehead, his cheeks, his jaw, his nose, and his lips. He kept his eyes closed while she explored him. She kissed him, needing more than just her fingertips, and he groaned, kissing her back.

She leaned forward so her nipples grazed against his chest. So hard, so warm, so alive.

One of his hands splayed on her lower back, his fingertips rough against her skin. He didn't let them bite in, didn't hold her or position her or command her in any way, but she liked the solidity of his touch. It said he would be there for her, that he'd steady her.

She ground down harder, riding him with more desperation. His fingers dug in a little and his hips jerked with her. She could feel him trembling. He didn't have to tell her that he was close. She was close too, the delicious sensations rising through her body like an untamed electrical charge. He was the lightning and she was the conducting rod, just this man beneath her, holding her, moving with her, inside of her, somehow surrounding her and overwhelming her senses by just being,was enough. She didn't need anything else.

He didn't have to tell her to come. It happened from the sheer goodness, the rightness of how joining with him felt.

She came, pulsing and writhing against him. He growled something next to her ear. She didn't really process what it was, but she felt the heat of his breath. That oath was followed by more heat, but inside, as he came too, the heat of him filling her with every throbbing pulse.

She clung to him, marveling that they'd barely had time to get sweaty. She wasn't sticky at all. She wasn't breathing like she'd just competed in a physically demanding sport. She didn't feel close to the edge of pushed past her breaking point, sore or aching. She just felt… good. Good all over. Peaceful.

The feeling didn't slip away when Rory gently untangled her and slipped under the covers. He was cautious about taking her into his arms. Intimacy was a new thing and when it came to holding or being held, she was as shy as he was. She did reach for his hand and threaded their fingers together. He held her hand, each of them lying on their backs, with just enough pressure to reassure her that he wasn't going to disappear.

She eventually reached out and was able to just barely find the pull cord on the lamp to switch it off. She never let go of Rory's hand and he didn't release hers, not even when she started to feel that heaviness in her limbs that signaled sleep.

Rory would still be there in the morning and this time, she wouldn't shove a notebook under his face and tell him that nothing had changed and it didn't mean anything. He'd still be there, quiet and a little shy, with a radiant smile that could light up a room and lift any of the darkness and weight from her heart. He'd be there.

And so would she.

She'd come to Greenacre looking for vengeance, but instead she'd found her family and her home.

And her fated mate.