Vigil Read online

“Right,” he said sarcastically. “I’m getting a blow job in the back of a limo. No pressure at all.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Oh come on. Getting a blow job in a limo is hot.”

  “I didn’t say it wasn’t,” he managed.

  I grasped the base of his penis with one hand, and I slowly eased the head of him into my mouth.

  He gasped.

  I applied a little bit of gentle suction, pulling him further into my mouth. He was way too big for me to take all of him. He’d never fit. I’d need to use my hand to stroke him at the same time.

  I let him sink as far into my mouth as I could. Tasting him. Licking him.

  He grunted.

  And pelted wave after wave of semen into my mouth.

  “Shit,” he said.

  I swallowed it, sitting up. “It’s okay.”

  He was tucking himself back into his pants. “Motherfucker.”

  “Callum.” I wiped my mouth.

  “I can’t believe you just did that.” He fumbled away from me, getting a bottle of water from the bar in the limo. He shoved it at me. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, you don’t have to—”

  “I don’t need you to do that, okay?”

  I opened the water bottle. I took a drink. At least he was nice enough to give me water afterward. “Look, it’s not a terrible thing to get off really quickly when a girl goes down on you. I mean, for the girl, anyway.”

  He zipped his pants up. “Well, it’s not exactly fun for me.”

  “But you had an orgasm.”

  “Yeah, but it’s like… they aren’t good. They just happen really fast, with no build up. They make me feel cheated.”

  I took another drink of water. “Oh. Yeah, I know those. I’ve had those. Those orgasms suck.”

  We were quiet.

  “Promise me you won’t do that again,” he said.

  “Just because it went badly—”

  “Promise.”

  “Okay,” I said, feeling defeated.

  * * *

  Blake was wearing this gold number. It fell off of one of her shoulders, and it had a slit all the way up her thigh. She looked impossibly small, her waist so tiny that it shouldn’t be legal. She tossed her dark waves as she giggled at Callum.

  I hated her.

  I really hated her.

  “I saw the little write-up about the two of you,” she said, her eyes dancing.

  We’d been at the charity ball for about an hour. Honestly, once I got over the excitement of wandering around in a pretty dress on Callum’s arm, the entire thing was pretty boring. The music was a string quartet in the corner, and, although at one point they’d played a string version of Prince’s “When Doves Cry,” they were not exactly up tempo. There wasn’t anything to do except walk around, sip champagne, and listen to Callum make pleasantries with people I didn’t know. I’d shaken hands with so many stuffy people in fancy outfits that I’d lost count. I could see why Callum hated this kind of stuff.

  “Write-up?” said Callum.

  “In Bold!” she said. “It was adorable.” But when she said that, there was a note of contempt in her voice. She wasn’t being sincere. She was being condescending.

  Callum turned to me. “Airenne’s article’s out already?”

  “I guess so,” I said. I hadn’t actually paid attention to when it was that Airenne was going to publish that thing. I was only happy that we were done with the interview and photo shoot.

  “Really, it seems a little out of character for you, Callum,” said Blake, “letting the press into your home. You used to be so private.”

  I glared at her. “Is there something we can do for you?”

  She smiled at me. “Oh, I sense some hostility.” She offered me her hand. “I think we got off on the wrong foot, Cecily. Really, I want all of us to be friends.” But there was still that undercurrent in her voice, like she was mocking me.

  I had no choice but to shake her hand.

  She took Callum’s arm. “Come on, darling, let’s all sit down and talk.”

  “Blake, I’m not sure that’s a great idea,” said Callum.

  “Why would it be a bad idea?” She turned innocent eyes on both of us.

  Callum looked uncomfortable. “I’m sure that Cecily—”

  “Oh, don’t push it off on her,” said Blake. “I’m sure she doesn’t appreciate you making her sound rude.”

  Now she’d cornered us. Neither of us had any way of refusing.

  I smiled tightly. “It’s all right, Callum. We can sit down and talk.”

  Blake tilted her chin, triumphant. “Excellent.” She was still holding Callum’s arm. She tugged at him.

  We followed her to sit down at one of the tables. They were round, each surrounded with four chairs. They all had a centerpiece of assorted roses in various shades of yellow. The table cloths were black lace.

  Blake sat down with effortless grace, folding her body like a dancer.

  Next to her I felt clumsy and gigantic. I sat down too, tucking my feet under my chair, feeling tense.

  “So, you’re a reporter, Cecily,” said Blake.

  I nodded.

  “Did you set up this little write-up in a fashion magazine?”

  “Not exactly,” said Callum.

  Blake turned to him. “But it was her idea, wasn’t it?”

  “No,” he said. “It wasn’t. It was a mutual thing.”

  “Mutual?” She threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, I can hardly believe that, darling. It’s just so unlike you.”

  “Is it?” he said. “Because the thing is, we haven’t talked in a long time, Blake. Maybe you don’t really know me anymore. Maybe I’ve changed.”

  “You’ve become some kind of gauche exhibitionist who allows a fashion magazine into your home?” She said “fashion magazine” the way you might say “garbage truck.”

  “Maybe.” He fidgeted, looking at his hands. “I don’t see why it matters to you.”

  “I’m worried about you,” she said.

  At this point, she wasn’t making any attempt whatsoever to include me in the conversation. I might as well not have been there.

  “I’m fine.” He lifted his gaze to meet hers. “You might not believe this, but it’s possible to get over you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “There’s no reason to get personal. That’s not why I’m talking to you. I only want to ask you a question.”

  “Only a question,” he said. “First you want to be friends, then it’s just asking a question?”

  She sighed. “Because I am your friend, I have to ask this.”

  Callum chuckled bitterly. “Why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like this question?”

  Now I felt as if he was ignoring me too, like it was just the two of them talking privately, and that I didn’t matter. Should I speak up? What would I say?

  Blake made a sympathetic face. “Did she find out that you were paying girls to date you, darling?”

  “What?” said Callum.

  “Are you talking about me?” I said.

  “Was the price of her silence that you play at this sham of a relationship with her?” said Blake.

  I shot to my feet. “Are you saying that I’m blackmailing Callum into dating me?”

  She ignored me. She touched Callum’s face. “We both know that you couldn’t hold onto a real woman unless there were some kind of extenuating circumstances.”

  He moved away from her like her touch burned.

  “I’m the only one who’s ever going to be able to put up with your little problem, Callum. Surely being with me is better than being with women who are only with you under false pretenses. Between the two of us, we both know where we stand.”

  Callum gritted his teeth. “The problem, Blake, wasn’t where you stood. It was where you fell over. On your back. With your legs spread. For everyone we knew.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, darling, that was so long ago. I can’t believe you’re still upset
about that.”

  Callum stood up. He reached out for me. “Come on, Cecily.”

  I put my hand in his.

  * * *

  Callum’s face was white. He was walking so fast that I could barely keep up with him in my heels. He dragged me through darkened hallways away from the ballroom.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  He didn’t answer. He just kept walking, dragging me forward.

  “Did she break up with you because of…”

  “No,” he said. “She was fine with us staying together. But since I couldn’t fuck her properly, she thought it was totally okay for her to sleep with other people, and that I didn’t have a right to be upset about it. When I told her that wasn’t cool, and that she either had to choose me or them, then she left me.”

  I shook my head. “That’s awful.”

  He stopped abruptly. “It’s understandable.”

  I stopped too, barely keeping my balance. “It’s not. She didn’t have an excuse.”

  He shoved open a door, and pulled me in after him.

  We were in a bathroom, elaborately large—with white tile and a kidney-shaped tub. “Where are we?”

  “I know my way around this house,” he said. “I used to come here a lot as a kid. The Monroes would go to functions, and they’d drag Blake and I along. We’d run around all over the place playing games.”

  “She’s your childhood sweetheart?” Jesus, what else did I have to compete with?

  “There’s nothing sweet about Blake,” said Callum. He was working at his tie, loosening it, undoing it.

  “Why are we here?”

  “Privacy.” He pulled the tie off.

  Privacy? Were we taking off our clothes or something? I waited, but he didn’t remove anything other than the tie.

  He grasped it with both of his hands, clenching them around the silky fabric. “I hate her. I don’t think I ever liked her. Even when we were kids, she was selfish and cruel. I can’t believe she threw it in my face like that. Fuck her.”

  I touched his arm. “She was horrible.”

  “She’s right, though,” he said. “I can’t be with a woman if there aren’t extenuating circumstances.”

  And then he whipped the tie up over my face, covering my eyes with it.

  “Callum—”

  His voice was hoarse. “Do you trust me?”

  “I… yes…”

  He tied the silk fabric around my face, blindfolding me. “Can you see me?”

  “No,” I said. I couldn’t see anything.

  “Good,” he said. And I felt his mouth on mine, hot, wet, and sweet.

  I gasped, clinging to him. I couldn’t see, and somehow it seemed harder to keep my balance.

  He ran his hands over me, his touch frenzied through my dress. I felt his hands on my breasts, on my hips, on the curve of my ass.

  My breath grew shallow. My heart started to pound. My body got excited. I could feel myself respond between my legs.

  His hands moved higher. One hand on my shoulder, one hand lower.

  He was gently pushing me to my knees.

  I resisted for a second, panic rushing through me. I was blindfolded in a bathroom with him, and it was hard to move in this dress. He seemed to have so much power over me, and, for a moment, it frightened me. I wanted to struggle.

  “It’s okay,” he murmured, his fingers caressing my jaw.

  And I surrendered to him, sinking down in front of his body. I held onto him for balance.

  He stroked my face. His voice was a dark rumble. “We’re going to try this again, Cecily.” He moved my hand to his crotch. “Unzip me.”

  I felt his words like a jolt. They sizzled through my body, making me contract in anticipation and excitement. Just like that, there was no more panic. Now, my compromised position was only a source of wicked pleasure. With shaking hands, I undid his zipper.

  I reached inside and found him, freeing him from his pants, just like I’d done earlier.

  He sighed. His fingers moved feather light over my neck. “Put your mouth on me,” he urged softly.

  I couldn’t see him, so as I eased his cock into my mouth, it was as if I was exploring him with my tongue. He was smooth, his skin hot, rigid, satin as he filled me.

  He made a choking noise in the back of his throat. “Good girl. Take me. Take all of me.”

  I’d thought before in the car that there was no way I could do it. There was too much of him. He was too large. But something about his deep, quiet voice goaded me on, and I kept pushing him further and further into my mouth.

  Down my throat. Slowly.

  And then… somehow… I managed to swallow the head of him, take him deep down into my mouth, so that my lips went all the way to the base of his penis.

  He groaned. “Jesus, Cecily.”

  His response made me feel weak inside, wet between my legs.

  Of course I couldn’t breathe like that. I couldn’t leave him there. So, I eased him out, running my tongue over the head of him.

  He groaned again.

  I started the process all over again, taking him down my throat, swallowing him, and then dragging him back out, raking my tongue against his erection.

  He grasped my shoulder, his fingers digging into my skin. “So good,” he gasped.

  I went faster. As fast as I could manage. It was tricky business taking him so deep. If he jabbed me in the wrong spot, I’d gag. So I had to be careful. But I still managed to pick up the pace.

  His breath grew labored.

  I bobbed up and down on his shaft, tonguing him, sucking him.

  “Cecily?” he whispered.

  I couldn’t talk. My mouth was full. I made an affirmative noise.

  “Are you wet, Cecily?” he said, his hand caressing my jaw again. “You’re going to need to touch yourself to be sure. Then take my cock out of your mouth and tell me.”

  My dress was kind of in the way, but I managed to move it. It wouldn’t have even occurred to me not to do what he said in that moment. His soft orders were the most erotic thing I’d ever experienced.

  I pushed my panties aside and slid a searching finger between my swollen lips. I was very wet. I let his shaft pop out of my mouth. “I’m dripping wet,” I breathed.

  “Good,” he said.

  My mouth felt empty without him. I quickly eased him back inside, moving up and down on him.

  “Touch yourself while you suck me, baby,” he said. “I’m not going to come until you come.”

  I moved my fingers on my own clit, moaning at the release, moaning around his thick cock in my mouth.

  “That’s it,” he murmured. “Suck me nice and hard.”

  I rubbed my clit one more time, and I lost it. The sensuality of the situation was too much. I was in a bathroom on my knees. Blindfolded. My own hand stroking myself. Callum’s cock shoved down my throat. It was sinfully delicious.

  I felt the first wave of my climax shudder through me.

  “Are you coming?” he asked me, his voice intense.

  I moaned against him, unwilling to let go of his cock, prodding myself to new heights of pleasure as I stroked him with my tongue.

  And he must have understood, because he went into a spasm in my mouth, plunging deep down my throat as he did, seizing the back of my head and pulling me close.

  I felt him come, but he did it so far back in my throat that I couldn’t taste him, that it was reflexive to swallow it all away before it was even there.

  And all the while, my own orgasm twitched out between my legs, splintering bliss through me.

  Callum tugged me to my feet. His body pressed mine into the wall of the bathroom. He kissed me, untangling the blindfold as he did so.

  I felt unsteady, hardly able to stand, and I clutched him, kissing back, leaning back against the wall for support.

  He pulled away.

  I looked into his eyes.

  “You’re so amazing,” he said.

  I touched his face
. “You’re…” What was the word? As a lover, he was explosive. He made me feel like I was losing myself, like I was falling apart, shattering into a million pieces. “Amazing. Too.”

  He laughed. He kissed me again.

  I held onto him for dear life.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he whispered.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “I don’t know what it is about being Vigil, but when I put on that costume, I feel like I lose all my insecurities,” he said.

  I was lying on my side next to him, my head resting on his chest, his arm wrapped around me. We were in his bed, clad in expensive silk pajamas. He’d taken me here after the charity ball. It was a place I’d never been, Callum’s actual bedroom. He was letting me in, and it was powerful to me. I knew it meant something.

  I wasn’t sure what affected me more deeply. Our intense lovemaking, the way it ripped through me, so pleasurable. Or the slow, sure way that Callum was opening to me. Peeling back his layers. Being vulnerable with me.

  “I can be whatever I want,” he continued. “I can fight crime. I can live out my sexual fantasies. It’s this amazing freedom.”

  I snuggled close. “Well, I’m not going to say that the things you do when you’re wearing that mask aren’t hot.”

  He chuckled. “If I weren’t Vigil, I wouldn’t have you here in bed with me.”

  “Sure you would,” I said, lifting my head to look at him.

  “No,” he said. “If I weren’t Vigil, you would hate me.”

  “I’m hardly your type either, Callum Rutherford. I’m not rich. I don’t have fancy dresses or flawless makeup.”

  “Are you kidding? You think I care about that kind of stuff?” He grinned at me. “Cecily, you’re so sexy. I kept running into you, and you were so fierce. I could sense how much passion was in you. And you were always wearing those skimpy outfits.”

  “I was not,” I protested. “One time, I did. For research. The other time, I was asleep.”

  He was still grinning. “The minute I saw you, I wanted you. I thought that if I were the kind of man who could have women, I’d want one exactly like you.”

  That broke my heart. “Of course you can have women, Callum. You can’t really think that getting off a little too quickly keeps you from having a girlfriend.”

  He sighed. He kept touching me, but he looked away. “Think about it. Of course it does.”