Dirty Bad Savage(74)
“Callum?” I croaked. “Are you there?”
A security light glowed dull as I stepped into the trash yard. It was a stinky shithole, black bins pilled high along the walls. A couple of wheeled bins had been tipped on their side, spilling recycling waste across the tarmac.
“Callum?”
“You must have a fucking death wish.” The light here suited him, caressed the hard lines of his face.
“I won’t give up,” I said. “I love you too much.”
“Love my fucking cock, you mean.”
“I love more than your cock, Callum.”
He circled me like a lone wolf would hunt deer, eyes heavy and considered. “I’m a savage,” he said. “That’s what you want from me.”
“No.”
“You don’t know where I’ve been, what I’ve seen. Don’t know what I’ve done, Sophie. What I had to do to survive.”
“Stop it,” I snapped. “Please, Callum. Please let’s just go home.” I held out a hand but he didn’t take it.
“You wet for me? I bet you are. You like it fucking dangerous.”
“I like it at home,” I said. “Let’s go.”
“Wanna play hard, is that it?”
“I want to you to come home!”
“Home? Here’s my home, amongst the shit and the piss and the trash. Here’s where I belong, Sophie. Wanna see who I am?”
“I know who you are!” I hissed. “And I know I hurt you, I know that. I didn’t mean to!”
He pulled his hoodie off over his head. His chest was so fucking beautiful in that light. The darkness played with his tattoos, casting orange shadows over the plains of his chest. I sucked in my breath. He was so fucking beautiful. His abs rippled as he moved, the V of his hips trailing away under the low hang of his jeans.
“Run,” he growled.
“No.”
“You’d better.”
“Never.”
“I’ll hurt you. Tear you apart. Take what I want.”
I dropped my bag, shrugged off my jacket to leave me in just a flimsy blouse and a short skirt. “I’m yours.”
“You ain’t mine. Never have been.”
“I’ll prove it,” I rasped. “Do whatever you want, you’ll never get me to leave.”
“That a fucking promise, is it?” he seethed. “Wanna make it up to me now? Too fucking late.”
“Do it, Callum. Make me yours.”
“SHUT UP!” he boomed.
Casey whined again from the shadows and he hissed her to be quiet. My clammy fingers fumbled with the buttons on my blouse, “You want this?”
He stopped pacing for a moment, dark eyes roving my skin. “Don’t.”
I slipped out of the blouse, let it drop to the floor. “What do I have to do, Callum? Tell me?”
“Fuck off,” he said. “For your own good.”
“No.” I stood proud, with my shoulders back and head high. “Show me your worst.”
I backed away as he lunged, but only for a moment. His grip was savage at the nape of my neck, twisting my head and driving me down onto all fours. He dragged me along by my hair as my knees grazed along the floor.
“This is who I am,” he spat. “This is where I come from.”
He pushed my face into the stack of rubbish bins, burying my nose amongst the stink until I retched. Only then did he let go, turning attention to the mounds of trash instead. He tore up the bags like a lunatic, spilling armfuls of filth and crap onto the tarmac. I heard the smashing of glass, the rattle of tin cans, and all around me the slop of residue filled my nostrils like an acrid soup.
Callum dropped to his knees at my side. His hands were rough as they hitched up my skirt, and rougher still as he tore into the flimsy lace of my panties. He bunched them up in his hand, then stuffed them into my mouth, shoving them in all the way to the back. I gagged on the fabric, my own taste ripe on my tongue.
“Keep fucking quiet.”
The slime on the floor was cold around my knees. I groaned into my gag as the rancid sea reached my hands.
“Smell that. The scent of fucking survival.” He sniffed it all in, revelling in the stench. “Never had to look through other people’s leftovers for your dinner, have ya? Wouldn’t have the first fucking clue. Don’t pay to be picky when you got a belly screaming for food.” He slapped his hand in the mess, then stroked my face, running liquid filth down my cheek. “You can be Queen of my world, if you like. Queen of the fucking streets. Better to be my dirty Queen than Daddy’s little princess, don’t ya think?”
I closed my eyes, desperate to block out the stench. “Let’s paint you pretty, my new piece of art. Living art.” He wrenched up my bra up until my tits hung freely, then daubed them in filth, rubbing it all around my nipples. “Fuck yeah, dirty bitch. Hurts to be degraded, don’t it? Hurts to be fucking nothing.”