Black Obsidian (Obsidian 1)

“Because I’m a virgin?”

He kissed me then pulled my bottom lip into his mouth aggressively. “Were a virgin. Now you’re just mine.”

“I wanted to sleep with you after our first date.” I struggled to keep my legs closed and remain patient. I wanted to jump head first into waters without knowing their depth. I wanted to go in blind and not care about what happened. “That’s why I asked you to make me wait.”

“I’m glad I did.” He kissed the corner of my mouth. “You were worth it, Vanilla.”

My heart fluttered with warmth.

“How do you feel?” He moved his hand between my legs and massaged my entrance. The corner of his mouth rose in a smile when he realized I was already wet.

I didn’t feel any shame. “A little sore.”

“We can take a break. I can kiss all those sores away instead.”

“No.” I didn’t want a break. I wanted to spend the entire weekend making love and forgetting about the rest of the world. I wanted to feel him inside me every second, full of his cum. “I want you.”

His arm tightened around my stomach until he nearly crushed me. “You’re a dream, you know that?”

“Me?”

“Yes.” He kissed the shell of my ear. “When I first saw you, I was a goner. And now… I don’t even know what I am.”

“Because I was a virgin?” I understood why that would turn some men on. He was the first to have me without having to compete with anyone from my past. To me, it didn’t really matter. I didn’t wait out of principle. With the progression of my life, I didn’t have time for romance. And even when I did, I didn’t know how to trust anyone. For whatever reason, Calloway was different. I detected something special inside him, some connection we both shared.

“That has something to do with it. But there’s more.” He kissed my lips then sat up. “As much as I want to start up again, I need to eat. A man needs protein.”

“Want me to cook you something?”

“No.” He opened one of his drawers and pulled on a t-shirt and sweatpants. “I’ll make you something.”

“You don’t have to do that.” I sat up and pulled the sheets with me because I was cold without them.

He leaned over the bed and kissed me. “I know I don’t. I want to.”

We had breakfast at the table. I was dressed in one of his large t-shirts with his boxers underneath. The smell of Calloway enveloped me and made it seem as if his arms were permanently wrapped around me even when he was ten feet away.

He ate his breakfast but kept his eyes trained on me the entire time. Like he was watching TV, his attention was glued to me in fascination. His mouth slowly moved as he chewed his food, but the intensity of his gaze refused to dwindle.

“How did you sleep?” I didn’t remember him waking up in the middle of the night. In fact, I was certain he didn’t move at all. His chest was pressed into my back the entire time. When he breathed, so did I.

A slight reaction of surprise stretched across his face, like he hadn’t considered the topic before that moment. “Actually, I slept pretty great…” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he tried to figure out exactly what happened. His eyes broke their contact with mine as he continued to think about it in silence.

Maybe all he needed to do was stop thinking about it to feel better. Whenever I had a clear mind, I stopped focusing on the bad and started focusing on the good. Maybe last night was a distraction for him. Maybe I was a distraction for him.

Monday arrived quicker than either of us was ready for. I got up and got ready for work, and he did the same, both of us in a terrible mood. I didn’t want to go to the office and work until five. What I’d rather have been doing was staying home with Calloway—particularly in bed.

Judging by his sour mood, he felt the same way. He sipped his coffee in silence and read the paper as he finished his eggs. His phone was on the table, and his suit made him look more like the powerhouse he already was.

Then there was a knock at the door.

“Who would stop by at this time of day?”

He set the paper down and rose from the table. “Grab your stuff, Vanilla.”

“Why?”

He walked to the entryway without giving me an answer.

I grabbed my purse and followed him, unsure what was waiting behind the door.

A man in a black suit stood there, a town car parked at the curb. “Ms. Moretti, are you ready to go?”

I eyed Calloway, unsure what this was about. “Go where?”

“To work,” the man answered. “I’ll drop you off and pick you up.”