Brutal Prince Bonus Scene (Brutal Birthright, #1.5)(83)

Callum pinches my nipples, one long, drawn-out squeeze that sends a jolt of pleasure ricocheting back and forth from breast to groin. It intensifies the orgasm as it rebounds it over and over.

It’s so strong that I can’t even stay on top of him anymore. My pussy is throbbing, pulsing with the aftermath of that climax.

But I’m not done yet. I want to finish what I started before.

I climb off of Callum and kneel between his legs. I put his cock back in my mouth, tasting myself on his skin. It’s a warm, musky, mildly sweet taste, that blends well with the scent of his skin, and the slight saltiness of the clear fluid leaking from the head of his cock.

I want more.

I start sucking him off, even more enthusiastically than before. My lips are swollen and sensitive from my climax. I feel every little ridge and vein of his cock against my tongue. I can feel his pulse, and how his cock tenses and throbs as he gets closer and closer to the edge.

Gripping the base of his cock, I suck hard on the head, tipping him over.

“Oh, Jesus, Aida!” he cries out, as he explodes into my mouth.

His cum is thick and slippery and warm. I love how it tastes, mixed with my own wetness. We’re meant to be together, him and I. Salty and sweet.

When I’ve drained every last drop out of him, he wraps me up in his arms again, our legs entwined beneath the sheets. I think I can even feel our hearts beating in tandem.





30





Callum





The very next day, I take Aida house hunting all around the Gold Coast, and Old Town as well, in case she prefers to be in her old neighborhood. We look at townhouses, penthouses, walk-ups, fancy apartments in posh buildings, and trendy converted lofts. Anything and everything I think she might like.

In the end we pick something in the middle: an old church that’s been converted into flats. Our apartment is on the top floor, so it includes an entire rose window inside of a pointed arch, making up almost the entirety of the living room wall.

Aida loves it so much that we put down a deposit on the spot.

After that, we fix the other thing missing in our marriage—I take Aida to pick out a proper ring. One she chooses herself, to fit her own tastes and preferences. I’m expecting her to go with a simple band, but she surprises me by choosing a small, emerald-cut center stone with filigreed baguettes. It has clean lines, and a hint of the old world about it. It suits her perfectly.

When I slip it on her finger, I repeat the vows that I spoke so carelessly the first time around.

Now I savor every word, speaking from the heart.

“I, Callum, take you, Aida, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad. In sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life. I promise you that, Aida. I will always be there for you. I’ll never let you down.”

“I know that,” she says, looking up at me. “I know exactly what you’d do for me.”

To celebrate the beginning of our new life together, I take her for lunch at Blackbird.

When we sit down, Aida sets her purse on the table between us, smiling gleefully.

“I actually have something for you, too,” she says.

“What is it?” I ask her, without having the tiniest guess in my mind. I don’t know if I’ve ever gotten a gift I was actually excited about. I’m used to putting on a fake smile for presents of cuff links or cologne.

“I almost feet stupid giving it to you,” Aida says, passing me a small, flat box. “Since it’s already yours.”

I lift the box, which is surprisingly heavy. When I open the lid, I see a gold pocket watch. It looks exactly like my grandfather’s watch, but I know it can’t be. She must have had a replica made somehow.

“How did you do it?” I ask her, in amazement. “It looks exactly like it. Even a bit worn . . .”

“More worn than it was, probably,” Aida says, guilty. “It’s been at the bottom of the lake for weeks.”

“What?” I say in disbelief. “This isn’t the same watch.”

“It absolutely is,” Aida says triumphantly.

“How?”

“Have you ever seen Cameron Bell?”

“No. Who’s that?”

“He makes these YouTube videos about finding sunken treasure. He’s a scuba diver. Anyway, I saw this video where he found a lady’s earring that she’d dropped in a river. And I thought, if he can do that . . .”

“So you called him?”

“That’s right,” Aida says triumphantly. “I mean, I paid him, obviously. And he gets to use it for his channel. Took him three whole days, and two different metal detectors, but he found it!”

I turn the watch over in my hands, unable to believe it even while I’m holding it.

I look up at Aida’s hopeful, guilty face.

Only Aida would believe she could get the watch back. I never even considered if it might be possible. You might as well drain the whole damn lake before you could get her to give up.

I love this woman. The day she set my house on fire was the luckiest day of my life. It truly is the luck of the Irish: perverse. Inexplicable. And utterly fantastic.

“Do you forgive me for losing it in the first place?” she asks me, slipping her slim little hand into mine.