CALLIE (The Naughty Ones Book 1) (8 page)

I’m so freaking impressed with Gruffy’s speechless, silent pleas for help I don’t notice the limo idling at the curb till I walk smack into a hard chest and feel arms surround me.

Dammit.

“Hi, gorgeous. Wow. That dress is way too hot for church. Hey, Gruffy, thanks for inviting us. Mom’s real excited about going to a catholic service, and Gramps is chomping at the bit for the wine they serve.”

I’m totally speechless as he practically carries me into the limo and I look up to see three grinning faces staring back at me.

Meet the Levins

Callie

Holy mother of God.

I have no words for the awkwardness of this situation as the four hags of hell and their leader pile in behind us and crickets start chirping in the background.

I think I may be caught in a nightmare as the rich and elite Levins grin at us all right before Gruffy loses control of her functions and drops a stinker when she falls into the leather seat.

Look, she’s eighty, okay? Some shit is just expected. What’s not expected is the way they all start hooting as if she just won open mic night at the local comedy battle, and what is definitely not expected is the way Mrs. Levin practically throws herself at my belly and starts having a moment with my body.

I have flashbacks of that super awkward lesbian scene from
Ghost
and I think I hallucinate, seeing my sweet Whoopi when her hands cop a feel of my busting bosoms.

“Good Lord, Bubby, she looks just like I did when I was carrying Jack! My God, Callie dear, prepare for a broken vagina and stretch marks that look as if a tiger tried to make love to you.”

“Mom. Stop freaking molesting my girl and get your ass back to Dad. Seriously, Dad, keep your tiger on its leash, old man,” Jack grumbles, unabashedly taking over for his mother with a smile.

I finally find my tongue when I realize they’re all staring at me like a sideshow act, and the old man I surmise must be the grandfather gives me a thorough look-over and a wink.

“You’re a looker, aren’t you? Good job, Jackie boyo, you chose a thoroughbred.”

Maybe they’re not all lunatics.

Gruffy seems to really like that, and I get to witness an accident in the making when she primps and starts batting her lashes.

“She has all her teeth too, dear. Takes after her granny in the looks department.”

Gruffy jabs Indie to stop her from pointing out that that statement is a blatant falsehood. Gruffy, like any self-respecting crone, owns or did own in the distant past, maybe
one
good tooth. Maybe.

“Don’t be a wee clipe!” she snarls, calling Indie a tattler, her brogue going so thick I have to bite my tongue from pointing out that she hasn’t seen Scotland a day in her life and is as American as they come.

Little fraud.

“But, Gruffy…” Dot giggles, her hand going to her mouth to stifle an outright laugh. “You have—”

“Now then, family, are we going to speak about the terrible straits we now find ourselves in with these two dunderheads? I think a nice courtroom wedding is in order since there’s no hiding the fact that they need to marry quickly before the gorilla she’s breeding just crawls right ou—”

“Gruffy!”

“What, Callie dearest? Look at the size of these lads then. They’re all big as brick shot houses and fine stock, too. You think your wee bairn willna be as big? Why, you’re fit to be docked already and you’re only just halfway through.”

“Why I outta…”

“Hush.” Jack chuckles, restraining me when the urge to pick cotton becomes a need. “Let them be, baby. She’ll joke, Gramps will start flirting, and before you know it we’ll all be well acquainted. Just relax and watch the show.”

Show? As Gruffy does continue to entertain and Grampa Jack, as he insists on being called, does start flirting, I sit back and allow Jack to hold me. He’s right, the show is hilarious.

It feels good to be here with his strength to keep me up as the family, more like zoo, starts chatting and getting to know each other. Turns out his mom, Anna, is a lunatic in designer Chanel.

She doesn’t cotton to airs and graces and despises people who think shit can do anything but stink. According to her, if those bastards who saw me puke like a firehose don’t like me, they can all get rogered.

The dad, another Jack, doesn’t give a damn since he can buy, sell, or ruin anyone who so much as insults me.

I’m
liking them so far.

“You okay, baby?” Jack asks quietly as we went our way towards the church.

“Mhm, sure. I didn’t think it possible to meet people as nutty as my family. It must be a fluke.”

“Babe, you met Freddie and Woody. Hell, you’ve spoken to me enough to have already realized we aren’t like everyone else.”

“Yeah, but you’re rich. That gives you all a free pass,” I huff, shifting when Percy’s elbow jabs into the side of my belly.

“Come here. Perc, keep those blades to yourself, sweetheart. I’d like my kid to be born without incident, please,” Jack huffs, grabbing me and pulling me onto his lap.

I want to wiggle away and protest the action, but it falls completely flat when I feel something big poking at my behind and look down to see him grinning wickedly at me.

“Sorry, baby, ignore it if you can. I can’t help getting hard when you’re near.”

The low, husky whisper is so familiar and cemented in my memory that I feel my own sex respond to his seduction in a way that has me squirming closer to his hardness.

I haven’t had sex in five months. To say I’m on the verge of attacking him right now is laughable.

I want to kiss him so badly, I have to suck my lips to still the urge. Good Lord, are those my hands kneading the muscled chest beneath me?

“Jack,” I whisper hoarsely, swallowing nervously as I peep around to see the others still chattering away.

“Sh, baby, don’t go all stiff on me again. You feel how much I want you? I’ve been eyeing this beachba—I mean, your belly since I spotted you at Althie’s birthday party. Christ, even knowing you were with child and thinking it was another man’s kid, I was so hot for you that I used to go home and beat off to images of seeing you spread out on my bed.”

My nipples go rock hard and start tingling as his words hit me right in the core. I start throbbing where I feel his shaft pulsing beneath me. My breathing has gone shallow and puffy as I look back at his lips and lick at my own.

“I, this isn’t a good idea.”

Be sensible
. But I really do not want to be anything but reckless and under him. The attraction I’ve been fighting for weeks is becoming impossible to ignore or avoid any longer, and quite frankly I am sick and damned tired of telling myself that I don’t want to touch and taste him again.

I want a whole night with him where I get to prove or disprove some of the things I dream of at night in my lonely bed when I wake in a sweat and so turned on it pains me.

I want to know if he tastes as good as I dream he does, or if he is, indeed, pierced. I want to know if the feel of his mouth is as good or if the fullness of having him inside me is as orgasmically good as my dreams.

More than that I want to slake the lust I feel for the man beside me and savor every touch, taste, and sensation of his big hands and body owning me.

“It’s the only idea that I can accept, Callie baby. You know I lie in bed at night and crave the scent of honeysuckle? I want the smell of you on my sheets and skin. I want your cream on my sheets and coating my dick. I want to go to work with your arousal drying on my shaft so that I have a piece of you with me all through the day. Tell me you don’t want my mouth on you, that your nipples aren’t aching for my tongue, and I’ll stop bugging you.”

The clever man has me there. He looks down at my chest and smirks.

“Come home with me, Callie. Give me a chance. Please.”

Gone is the stuttering, nervous man who insults me at every turn, and in his place is a smooth, silver-tongued seducer who knows how to sweet talk a woman and get exactly what he wants.

No wonder he’s such a playboy; he’s golden when he’s in this mode.

Should I go with him? Would giving in and risking myself again, this time consciously, be the start of something for us or another letdown that could hurt more than even my mother’s abandonment.

              “One chance, Jack. I’m going to give you one chance here to prove that you aren’t the asshole I think you are, but I swear to God, if you lie to me, if you hurt me, I will let the wolves at you and I won’t do a damn thing to stop them,” I warn.

The smile he gives me is enough to make my hoo-hoo go volcanic, and I note with a deep sigh that I’m about to walk into church with my bits on fire.

Oh well, I guess I should get used to the burn if I’m going to hell.

Heat. Sheets. Treats.

Callie

I’m stuffed, happy, and just plain boneless by the time the Levins have cleaned Gruffy out and are ready to go home. I am in love with Jack’s parents.

The old guy I have my eye on. But not too closely because he sat beside Gruffy all through lunch and she was smiling from ear to ear as I saw his hand move beneath the table. Eek.

              I could so get used to be waited on hand and foot, and I could really get into those heated looks Jack’s been throwing me ever since I released my poor body from that hellishly tight dress and threw on a jersey dress and flat boots that make me look hot.

Who knew having a belly could get a man this turned on by the time the Levin clan starts heading for the door?

The unholy alliance I see brewing between Percy and Jack’s mom is worrying, but I can’t even find the will to care as I kiss everyone good-bye and let Jack lift me into his arms.

“She’s not coming in tomorrow, so deal with it and don’t bother calling. Elsa, lunch was great. Gramps, stop pawing her and get your old ass in the car, I need to take my girl home.”

“You’re no fun, you little snot. I’ll call you, Elsa. This isn’t over.”

“And there goes my dick,” Jack mutters with a shudder.

They all laugh at that and I ignore the wolf whistles and colorful jokes they all throw at me as he strides to the car and slides me in before whistling and gesturing to another car that pulls up behind us.

“You’re driving in that. No, I do not care, Mom. Dad, talk to your wife. I need some alone time.”

“But, Jackie, I wanted to tell Callie all about the swollen—”

“Good-bye, Mom! Jesus, like she needs another reason to hate me.”

He’s in the car and closing the door on whatever she says as the driver pulls away. No sooner does the privacy window go up than I am in his lap and he’s kissing me senseless.

I feel the connection in every nerve and can’t stifle a moan when he thrusts his tongue into my mouth and proceeds to lick at every corner and crevice of my mouth.

My tongue is in heaven when he sucks it into his own mouth and starts loving on it like it’s a favorite treat, but what really gets my motor going is the hand action.

They’re everywhere as he steals my breath. They’re on my breasts, groping the heavy globes and stroking softly at my nipples. One even manages to glide from my knee and up beneath my dress as I start writhing against his lap and grind into his erection.

I almost scream when he cups his hand over my sex and starts rubbing at me with sure steady strokes over my cotton maternity panties.

“You’re so wet already, Callie. I need to feel you.”

“Feel me,” I plead, opening my legs with a sigh of bliss when he suddenly shifts and slides two fingers beneath the elastic. Those fingers know exactly where to go and I find myself crying out when they hit my clit and start strumming in slow circle.

The moisture of my arousal is thick and heavy on my lips, and he uses the lubrication to slip a digit between them and tickle at my opening.

“Jack.”

I have to wrench my mouth away when breathing becomes difficult because the kissing combined with the finger he pushes into is so good I can’t catch a decent breath past the moaning that’s taken me over.

His finger is wicked and knowing, pushing deep, ferreting out every little spot inside that has intense pleasure winging through me, straight to my clit.

“So warm and tight, Callie,” he groans, and I look up to see the harsh pleasure on his face just as he curls his finger and starts playing me like a fiddle.

I’m a mess, a desperate writhing mess as he uses his hand to touch me in ways I’ve never felt.

The wet sounds of my passion and the look on his face as I writhe and start moving on his hand are erotic and sexy as hell. I want to touch him, give him the same pleasure, and yet all I can do as he starts thrusting and pulling out, hitting my clit with his thumb on every upstroke, is cry out and take what my body needs.

The orgasm that takes me is hard, intense, and sudden. I find myself screaming and biting into the smooth flesh of his throat as I convulse and come all over him.

“Jesus. Oh Jesus, that was fucking hot,” he groans into my neck as he slows his hand and pets me softly, bringing me down with a tenderness that is stealing my heart.

By the time I can move and function properly he’s breathing more evenly and he doesn’t look ready to go nuts.

“That was…”

I can’t ever remember a time when a man touched me and gave me pleasure just for the pleasure of giving. I want to weep in thanks.

Here he is, hard beneath me and obviously suffering, but all I see when he finally pulls his hand away is a satisfied smile and wicked gleam in his eyes.

The fact that he then proceeds to shove his fingers into his mouth turns me right on again and I groan into his chest with a laugh.

“I think I know why I slept with you in the first place.”

That gets a laugh and he shakes his head, leaning down to kiss me softly.

“Baby, that was foreplay. You haven’t seen anything yet.”

The rest of the journey is made in silence and I enjoy the peace and comfort as I snuggle against his chest and let the lethargy of pleasure overtake me.

***

Jack

My balls are officially blue and ready to drop off in surrender as I pull Callie more securely into my arms and exit the car with a nod to the driver. It’s a bit of a juggling act to unlock the door without waking her, but I get it done with some sort of skill and stride straight for the stairs, my urgent need to see her in my bed taking over.

As I lower her to the white sheets and step away, I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. She’s finally here, right where I need her. And she’s currently snoring softly and drooling a little.

The sight makes my lips twitch and I look down and eye my dick with a sigh.

“Sorry, pal. She needs her rest. Looks like it’s just you and me again.”

The shower I force myself into instead of standing and watching her sleep like a creep is ice cold, but after five minutes of waiting I finally admit defeat and take my dick in hand. My strokes are firm and even as I beat off to the image of Callie’s face when she came and flooded my fingers with her pleasure.

It’s all I need and I come with a throttled groan, shooting so hard, my knees threaten to buckle before I manage to fall into the wall and wheeze out a breath.

Shit.

I look down as feeling returns to my limbs and glare at my dick when I note that the fucker hasn’t so much as softened an inch.
Sorry, pathetic bastard
. He still thinks he’s getting lucky tonight.

After a quick wash and rinse, I towel off and walk out naked, sliding between the sheets and dragging Callie into my arms with a sigh of contentment. I’m hard and horny and frankly in pain, but as she snuggles against me and pushes her belly into my side, I feel a peace that can’t be beat.

***

Callie

Morning light filters through my eyelids and I roll over and shove my face into the blankets with a groan. I’m not ready to budge for at least the next hour, and I know I have to because I contend with a bladder the size of a pea.

The freaking thing is cramping like it’s about to explode and I give up the warm comfort against the danger of peeing on my mattress and ruining…

Wait.

I move my legs a little again and feel the soft glide of a high thread count against my legs.

“Morning, baby. You sleep well?”

That voice has my eyes shooting open and I look up to see a sleep-mussed, smiling Jack looking at me.

Oh yeah, now I remember.

“I need to pee.”

I don’t know why I’m whispering or even why that’s the first thing that comes out of my mouth, but I can’t dwell on it any longer because I’m shooting off the bed and running for the toilet as my bladder give a warning wobble.

“Oh yessss.”

It feels almost orgasmic when a pregnant lady pees.

              “That sounds blissful.”

My eyes spring open at that drawl and I see Jack standing in the doorway, grinning from ear to ear. This is seriously weird and a bit uncomfortable as I keep peeing loudly, while he stands and watches me.

“Go away.”

“No. I like sharing things with you. If you want you can watch while I pee. It may not be as sexy, but I am game, baby.”

That smile is the only reason I’m not yelling, and I manage to finish and wipe with some decorum before flushing and going to wash my hands. True to his word, Jack sidles in sporting a hard-on that would be scary if I wasn’t already assured that it will fit, and starts peeing as if we do this stuff all the time.

It’s weird and I should so be grossed out that we just watched each other pee, but I’m not. I’ve even lost the awkward morning-after feeling and head straight into embarrassed territory when it hits me that the last thing I remember is climaxing in the limo.

Shoot, I must have fallen asleep. Dammit. That makes me feel real good about myself.

“Hey, baby, stop looking so glum. We’re all good,” Jack murmurs, pulling me in for a smooch and a back rub.

“I fell asleep? Dammit, I’m sorry. Great night, huh?”

He laughs and busses my head again before pointing to the shower.

“I’ll grab you something clean to wear and meet you in the kitchen. Stop worrying, babe, I had a great night. I got to touch your junk and sleep next to you. Besides, it beats the fuck out of waking up to no memory and an empty bed.”

“Yeah but—”

“No buts. Shower and teeth so I can feed you and my boy there.”

He leaves me alone after another soft peck and I hear him whistling softly as I step into the shower and turn on the six high-powered heads.

              I’m grinning when I leave the bathroom with clean teeth, wearing one of his big shirts and a pair of soft grey sweatpants I had to roll a million times to avoid tripping over.

When I make it to the kitchen, after checking out the house with a happy nod of approval, I find him humming as he sets the table and starts plating bacon, hash browns, and a fruit salad.

I don’t have the heart to tell him the fruit and bacon do not mix well, and instead sit down with a smile.

“This looks good.”

Where the hell are my eggs? I need eggs with bacon. They’re married. They belong together. Eating bacon without eggs is like watching Thelma and Louise without Thelma or watching
Dirty Dancing
without Baby.

He must sense my horror because he shrugs when I look up and grins around his fork.

“I don’t think eggs are good for the baby.”

Breathe, Callie.

“Huh?”

“Eggs. I don’t think they’re good for babies, and besides, aren’t they bad for cholesterol or something?”

Breathe. Deep.

“Jack. Do you not like eggs?” I manage to ask around a bite of melon that makes me cry inwardly.

He blushes a little and shrugs one shoulder.

“They’re slimy before you cook them. It grosses me out.”

“Let me get this straight. You eat eggs. You like eggs. You just do not cook them because it freaks you out when they’re raw.”

His bashful smile let’s all the hormonal steam right out of my sails and I feel myself sigh when he nods.

“You’re weird.”

“Me? You watched me pee, Callie. You’re weird.”

“Hey. You watched me pee, too.”

“Yeah, but we already know I’m weird.” He grins, biting into a strip of bacon with relish.

“God. I’m in lust with a madman. I despair for this kid with our genes combining.”

I eat as he laughs and keeps trying to add more fruit to my plate. Look, I’m not an animal, but I do not like fruit as a meal. An apple once in a while? Okay. A banana when I need potassium? Fine, I’ll soldier through the pain. Fruit as a meal where I have to eat and eat and eat my way through it.

Nooooooooooooooo.

“Stop. No. Eat your own shit and leave my plate alone. Jack, I swear to God if I have to get through another piece of melon, I will stab you with this fork no matter how much I want sex with you,” I warn, palming my fork threateningly.

“It’s good for you. It’s packed with vitamins and good sugars.”

“You’ll be packed full of stitches if you try to poison me much longer. Next time. Eggs.”

That brings a grin to his face and I feel myself smiling back when he fist-pumps the air.

“She’s thinking long term. Score two to Jack.”

At this rate I’m gonna have to find myself a Jewish family just to fit in, but I’m giggling at his ridiculousness as I sip decaf coffee and listen to him jabber about yesterday and the odds of the Olds getting together. We both agree it’s a blessing that Gruffy’s got powder ovaries by now, and Gramps probably releases talc when he finds nirvana.