Long Way Down (Calloway Sisters 4)

His breath stays controlled as he strokes his erection, but he never looks down. His eyes are always on me. I like watching him.

I’ve always liked watching him. The barely perceivable flexing of his abs. The tic in his jaw as he clenches his teeth. The veins spindling up his arms. And his cock that swells with cravings and desires.

I love it all.

My knees knock together, and I pop a couple buttons on my flannel shirt that stops mid-thigh. His hard gaze flits between the opening of the shirt and my eyes. I watch his hand pump a little faster, and he shifts slightly in the chair.

I totally prefer arousing him this way than by blowing him, and maybe he’s beginning to realize it too. My silly, lovesick smile returns in full-force.

I pop a few more buttons and let the shirt fall off my arms. My breasts come into view, a little larger than usual. His jaw locks again, and his cock seems to harden even more beneath his hand.

I stir a bit, my body strangely awakening. Usually when I’m not in the mood, I stay that way, but the visual is so new. He’s so attractive. And his want for me is clear in every tiny motion, in every pulse of his vein. In the wrinkle of his scowl. It’s all saying, I want to fuck you until sundown and come sunup, Calloway.

He remains there, though. Respectful of my boundaries. My needs and my own desires. It makes him ten billion times more alluring and more perfect for me.

I unbutton my shirt all the way and pull it off entirely. Naked and bare, just like him. He seems to focus on my round belly.

A low grunt catches in his throat, and he clutches his cock a little tighter. His pleasured noise sends shockwaves down my spine.

I tremble. “Ryke,” I say breathily.

He grips the base of his chair with his free hand, like he has to hold on as his arousal mounts. His other hand pumps faster. Harder. “Fuck…” He lets out another husky noise, eyes all over me. His heavy, weighted breath shakes my knees. I spread my legs wide open, and he groans, “Fuck…me.”

His eyes roll back some, and then he comes on himself, milking the last of his climax with a few more strokes.

My mouth falls at the sight. If there’s a scale that measures hotness, he’s totally burned the entire thing.

The minute he locks eyes with me—before he decides to take a shower and wash off—I say, “Come inside of me. Please.”

RYKE MEADOWS

Fuck.

Her high-pitched plea grips my fucking dick. I stay still for a second, gauging her reaction, if this is something she actually wants or if she’s just trying to turn me on again. For me, not for her.

I’m not about to fuck Daisy if she doesn’t care to have sex. It’s not necessary like it used to be, and no one’s fucking happier about it than me. Coming inside a girl who turns her head away from you, waiting for it to end—it rips my fucking heart out.

I don’t think she’d set me up for that.

I know she wouldn’t.

“I think I’m wet,” she pants and then reaches down between her legs, stretching them even wider. More for herself this time. She’s swollen and clearly soaked.

I harden again, almost fucking instantly. I stand up and rest my left knee on the edge of the bed; my right foot stays on the floor, the pain dull beneath heightened arousal. Better sentiments all around.

As her fingers graze her clit, she shudders and mumbles an, “Oh my God.”

I clasp her ankle and yank her fast and hard to the bottom of the mattress.

Her blonde hair splays against the sheets and blankets, and her smile bursts, her chest rising and falling heavily. She’s so fucking beautiful, and I want inside of her more than she can possibly comprehend. I grab a pillow and put it beneath the small of her back, hoisting her pelvis closer to me.

I feel her gaze travel across my body, landing on my erection. “I have this theory.” While I have hold of her ankles, she wrestles against the mattress, her shoulders burrowing into the blankets. “That you were meant…” She loses breath, unable to tear her gaze off my cock.

“That I was meant…?” My hand runs down her long leg, clasping her hip. Her breasts are bigger, her waist more curved than usual, and her stomach round. It all just points to one fucking fact:

She’s pregnant with my baby.

Not some repulsive prick that calls her names and treats her like shit. I didn’t have to watch her go through life that way.

If someone told me on the yacht—when she just turned sixteen—that we’d end up here, I’d think they were fucking insane. I’d never think about getting Daisy Calloway pregnant. Never even picture either of us married.

Time changes people.

There was a point where it made me sick thinking about her kissing another fucking guy. Where I couldn’t even contemplate the notion that she’d be married to someone else. Where she’d carry his baby. Where she’d be happy in his arms, not mine.

Having her here, with me, means every fucking thing.

I lift her hips up towards my pelvis, and she says, “You were meant to be…deep, deep inside of me from the get-go.” The idea of me fucking her when she was fifteen turns her on—especially since it would erase her bad experiences. So I’m not going to squash her fucking fantasy.

I run my hand up and down her body, and she shudders more beneath my palm. Her nipples have been too sensitive, even for shower water, so I stay away. She’s waiting for me to push in, and I’m teasing the fuck out of her.

My hand back on her hip. I lean forward and kiss the corner of her mouth. “You’re my favorite fucking wild thing.”

“Ryke,” she cries, ready and writhing in my grasp.

I comb the hair out of her face and then kiss between her breasts, down her ribcage, down her round belly, blood pooling in my cock. I straighten up again, my left knee still on the bed. Her legs wrapped around my waist.

I grip my erection, pausing a second before I drive in. She’s always been fragile during sex. In the sense that I can hurt her easily. If I push too hard against her cervix. If her cyst flares up. She can feel pain, but her being twenty-four weeks pregnant brings sex to another dimension.

I’m not fucking scared. I just want to read her body language correctly. I want to pay attention to every part of her, so I can give her everything she needs.

“Take me,” she whispers, still staring at my cock.

I slowly push into her, and her face blankets with pleasure. “Ahhh,” she breathes and clutches the bed on either side of her. Her legs vibrate on either side of me, and her tightness, so fucking swollen, grips me.

Fuck. Me. I run my fingers through my hair, fuck. Thrusting forward. Clutching her hip. Disappearing all the way inside of her.

Every time I rock forward, she rocks up, in sync with my movements. Coming at me as I come at her. I stare at her slender body, her baby bump, her feral fucking motions.

She slows for a second, and I see a wince in the crease of her eyes.

“Easy, Dais,” I breathe, concern pumping adrenaline into me. “You don’t have to fucking move.”

She lets out heavy breaths and then nods. A look in her eyes that says slower.

I pull out and push in with an unhurried pace, drawing the tension and increasing the fucking friction. She watches closely and tries to thrust up, but I put a hand on her stomach, easing her body back down.

She nods again, her back arching and eyelids fluttering.

A groan scratches my fucking throat. Jesus fucking—I push deeper, slower but fucking deeper. She clenches around my cock, tight and pulsating. Her lips open and she gasps as she hits a peak.

I fucking burst, coming hard. I lean forward, my forearms on either side of her face, and I kiss her neck, hearing her cry out more as I’m buried inside her heat.

“Ryke.”

I lift my head and she kisses me on the lips first. I kiss her back instantly, my tongue sliding against hers. She moans against my mouth, and I break away so she can catch her breath.

“Good?” I ask, my right foot still on the ground. My dick still in her.

“The very best,” she smiles. “I think you were always meant to be right here.” She wags her brows, alluding to our bodies connected together.

“You already said that, Calloway.” I know what she sees when she looks at us, and it’s easy to share her vision. To feel the same fucking thing. Animalistic. Meant to fuck. Meant to start a family.

Meant to be.

“The orgasm must have literally blown my mind.”

“Cute.” I pat her ass. “I’m going to pull out.” She’s no longer clenching, and I easily slide out, watching her exhale. No sign of pain.

She crawls off the bed, and my brows furrow, wondering what the fuck she’s doing. I sit on the edge of the mattress and glance at my chest and abs. Fuck, I need a shower.

Daisy lifts the cardboard box with our costumes and sets it beside me. “I’m curious. Aren’t you curious?”

“No,” I say flatly. I planned to wait until five-thirty like Lo wanted, but post-sex, I’d do just about anything Daisy asked. Including opening a box we aren’t supposed to fucking open.

I rip at the tape before she does. Her smile spreads so wide that I can feel a dark part of me brighten. She helps me finish and we both open the flaps together.

Two letters sit on top, and I pass the one that looks like Daisy’s. We both wait for each other to read theirs, but I motion for her to go first.

She unfolds the letter and clears her throat, layering on her theatrical fucking voice. “‘Dear One-Half Crazy Raisin.’” She sways from side to side, naked, in front of me. “‘I thought about making you a nun, but you can thank your sister, the adorable one, for telling me not to be such a dick.’ Thank you, Lily.” Daisy curtsies.