Brutal Prince Bonus Scene (Brutal Birthright, #1.5)(43)

Callum lays me down on my back and he climbs on top of me, thrusting into me again. He’s looking directly into my eyes now, his clear blue into my smoky gray.

Usually when I look him in the eye, it’s because I’m furious, trying to stare him down. We’ve never looked at each other quite like this before: open, curious, questioning.

Callum isn’t a robot. He feels things as acutely as I do. Maybe even more, because he’s always trying to shove it down inside.

For the first time, he presses his lips against mine with gentleness. His tongue tasting and exploring.

I kiss him back, my hips still rolling under his. I can feel another climax building, the other half of the one that came before. Why do our bodies fit together so perfectly when everything else about us is completely opposite?

“You’re mine, Aida,” Callum growls in my ear. “I’ll kill anyone who tries to touch you.”

With that, he erupts inside of me. And I’m coming too, a second orgasm even stronger than the first. The strongest I’ve ever felt, in fact. I’m not sure I’ll be alive when it’s over.





16





Callum





Luckily, Aida and I are the first ones back to the house, because the scraps of her dress are scattered across the limo floor, and she doesn’t have anything else to wear except my suit jacket.

She doesn’t give a shit. Ever the free spirit, she just wraps my jacket around her body and runs inside barefoot, giving the chauffeur a jaunty salute on her way by.

I’d like to follow her, but I can feel my phone buzzing in my pocket—my father, calling to chastise me.

“What the fuck were you thinking,” he says the moment I pick up.

“That piece of shit tried to assault my wife.”

“You got in a brawl at your own fundraiser. With Oliver Castle! Do you know how that looks?”

“He’s lucky I didn’t splatter his brains on the concrete.”

“If you did, you’d be in jail right now,” my father seethes. “That wasn’t some frat boy you hit—Henry Castle is one of the richest men in Chicago. He donated fifty thousand to your campaign!”

“He’s not getting a refund,” I say.

“You’re going to have to give him a hell of a lot more than a refund to keep him from torpedoing your run.”

I grind my teeth so hard that my molars feel like they’re about to crack in half.

“What does he want,” I say.

“You’re going to find out tomorrow morning. 8:00 a.m., at Keystone Capital. Don’t be late.”

Fucking hell. Henry Castle is worse than his son—bloated, arrogant, and hyper-demanding. He’s going to want me to grovel and kiss his ring. While I want to castrate him to prevent him from siring any more shithead sons.

“I’ll be there,” I say.

“You lost control tonight,” my father says. “What the fuck is going on with you and that girl?”

“Nothing.”

“She’s supposed to be an asset, not a liability.”

“She didn’t do anything. I told you, it was Castle.”

“Well pull it together. You can’t allow her to distract you from your goal.”

I hang up, boiling with everything unsaid that I wanted to scream into the phone.

He’s the one who forced me to marry Aida, and now he’s pissed off because she’s not a little chess piece he can shuffle around the board, like he does to everybody else?

That’s what I admire about her. She’s wild and she’s fierce. It takes everything I’ve got just to get her to wear a damn dress. She’d never grovel in front of Henry Castle. And neither will I.

I head upstairs to our bedroom, expecting her to be brushing her teeth and getting ready for bed.

Instead, she pounces on me the minute I come inside the room. She kisses me deeply, pulling me toward the bed.

“Aren’t you tired?” I ask her.

“It’s not even midnight,” she laughs. “But if you’d rather go to sleep, old man . . .”

“Let’s see what it takes to tire you out, you fucking lunatic,” I say, throwing her down on the mattress.





Aida is still deep asleep when I have to get up for my meeting with Henry Castle the next morning. I pull the blankets up around her bare shoulders, though it seems a pity to cover up all that smooth, glowing skin.

She looks exhausted after the romping we had last night. We spent an hour doing something that was as close to wrestling as fucking. She was testing me, testing whether I’d let her take control, testing my energy and my stamina.

There was no fucking way I was tapping out first. Every time she tried to overpower me, I pinned her down again and fucked her ruthlessly, until we were both panting and dripping with sweat.

I could see how it excited her, feeling my strength against hers, knowing I wouldn’t give an inch to her. She likes to push me, to see how far she can go before I snap. She does it in and out of the bedroom.

Well, I’m a fucking mountain that can’t be pushed. She’ll learn that soon enough.

And so will Henry Castle. I know he thinks I’ve come to his office to grovel, but that’s not fucking happening.