With Everything I Am (The Three #2)(72)
Author: Kristen Ashley

She, however, continued to enjoy it and that was the only reason Callum could endure.

It was late. The caterers had swept away their wares, leaving the house tidy but Sonia still wandered it. Finding a discarded napkin here, the remains of wrapping paper there and throwing them away while Callum shut down the house for the night.

When he guided her up the stairs, he led her to the bathroom deciding that he’d give them a better memory of a space that had become, for him, as it had to be for her, dreaded.

At first she was confused and hesitant but that melted, as Sonia always did, when he gently placed her hands on the basin, ordered her to keep them there and yanked up her skirt. He pulled down her panties and she stepped out of them before he commanded she open her legs. He saw, reflected in the mirror, her face grow hungry and his need for her deepened before she did as she was told and, at once, as her reward, he slid his hand between her legs from behind, giving her what she craved.

Callum watched her in the mirror thinking distractedly, because he so liked what he saw, that he’d have to have a room paneled in mirrors at his castle in Scotland. The vision of her growing excitement erasing the earlier, painful one as he brought her to orgasm with his fingers. Then, while she was still moaning her uninhibited release, he watched as he entered her and f**ked her, her skirt bunched at her hips, her sweet ass willingly tilting up to take all of him. And he kept watching as he brought her to orgasm again moments before he had his own.

Then, keeping Sonia impaled on his cock, he gazed in the mirror, her hooded eyes, he noted, doing the same, as he slowly disrobed her, baring her beautiful, little body still intimately connected to his. Once she was na**d against him, he took his time, running his hands along the skin of her midriff, her belly, her sides and up to her br**sts as he, and Sonia, watched the trail of his hands and as he, alone, felt her sex shudder around his c**k in response to their travels. And he held her, his forearms crossed, his hands cupping her br**sts, his thumbs idly stroking her ni**les, his shaft still hard and buried to the root, as he memorized the look of them together. The smell of their mingled essence. The beautiful feel and sight of all that was her.

She twisted her neck and, with her lips against his skin, he watched in the mirror as she whispered there, “How do you stay so hard so long?”

“Sensory incentive,” he replied softly (and truthfully).

She emitted a fluttering sigh.

He smiled.

Then he lifted her off his shaft, turned her, seated her on the basin and lazily pulled off her boots and slid off her stockings.

Then he carried her to bed, his sweet little Sonia, took off his clothes, joined her and pulled her close, on their sides, his face in her hair, her ass snug in his crotch, his body pressed to the length of hers.

His voice was gentle when he asked, “Did you have a good night, my little one?”

“Yes,” she whispered sleepily, hesitated, then enquired, “Did you?”

“Yes,” he answered and his arms gave her a squeeze. “I liked the way it ended the best.”

“Figures,” she mumbled seconds before she fell asleep.

He should have felt contentment but these were his worst times. In the dark, Sonia near, her body relaxed in his arms. These were the times he knew he’d miss most when she was gone.

He didn’t seethe against her aging, the onset of wrinkles, her gorgeous hair turning gray.

He seethed against the knowledge that one day, she’d be gone.

As with every night since the claiming, King Callum fell asleep with his queen forced to come to uneasy terms with this vile knowledge of his future.

Chapter Fourteen

Christmas

Sonia’s body was trapped between the back of the far more comfortable couch in her upstairs television room and the length of Callum’s frame. Her head was resting on his chest. Her arm was draped around his stomach. Her gaze was on the television.

In this position, late Christmas Eve, King Callum watched the movie White Christmas for the first time.

The detritus of their feeding frenzy was on the table in front of them, something, to his surprise, which was Sonia’s idea.

One of the things she had made no bones about since they met was her dislike of the wolf diet. But that morning when he’d asked how she traditionally spent her Christmas Eve and Christmas day, she’d told him in a tentative, almost, to his surprise (and foreboding) shy way, that both days were the only days of the calendar year where she ate what she wanted, how much she wanted and didn’t worry about it.

Callum hid the displeasure he felt at these words, a displeasure he felt for three reasons.

First, she’d been shy in relating this information to him. Why Sonia would be shy, considering they were lifemates, she’d been claimed, she spent most of her days in his lap and all of her nights full of his cock, he couldn’t imagine.

Second, because her shyness made him realize that he’d never bothered to ask her anything about herself, her likes, dislikes, what she enjoyed doing, what she did not. So, he supposed, it wasn’t unusual that she would be shy because she was being asked to share about herself which was new to her. At least doing it with him was.

She needed to fit into his life, this was true. But she was also an important part of his. He’d had a lot on his mind but, regardless if it was inadvertent, the extent of his callousness shook him. Further, he wondered, as Ryon suggested, if under the surface of Sonia’s acceptance of her fate, something else lurked.

Last, because she so rigidly controlled her eating which was one of his most disliked human traits and one he would be fully breaking her of after the holidays.

Wolves didn’t count calories and they were not obsessively tidy as Sonia also was. Contradictory to humans, even though a wolf’s life could last eternity, they didn’t squander them on trivial things. They lived them to their fullest, every day enjoying what life had to offer and never sweating the small stuff.

While in bed that morning, her eyes riveted to his chest, her fingers absentmindedly sifting through the dark hair there, she’d explained (while he hid his displeasure, and, later, unrest) that Christmas Eve, she relaxed, read a book, watched movies and ate whatever she wanted. Christmas morning, she opened her presents which she kept for some reason she didn’t share under her upstairs tree. Then she went to Gregor’s in the afternoon and had a late afternoon dinner with him and Yuri before she came home.

This news was, Callum thought, somehow gloomy. Although she related it in a way that seemed straightforward, it didn’t change the fact that most of her beloved holiday she spent alone and none of it, to his way of thinking, sounded very much fun.