His Red Carnation (Forbidden Blooms #1)

16. Callan

16

Callan

I had no idea why Ana told Sloane about my substance abuse history. The weight of it hung over me while Sloane slept peacefully in my arms. Was it meant to scare her? Had it come up casually in conversation? Whatever the reason, I just hoped Sloane wouldn’t ask any more questions about that part of my life.

We woke to the sound of my alarm going off at noon. We had to get Sloane to UC Berkeley by two, and I needed enough time to fuck her in a warm shower beforehand.

I opted for a casual look—there was no way I wanted to stick out like a sore thumb in a suit on a college campus. I didn’t want to draw any more attention to Sloane.

Walking beside her without holding her hand was a struggle. We’d spent the last twenty-four hours in our own little bubble, and I wanted it to last forever.

It took only a few minutes to reach the campus. An eager faculty member led us around while I kept a few feet behind, watching Sloane like a hawk. I didn’t want her to get bombarded like she had at the airport, but I figured the students here had more decency than those fuckers with cameras.

As the tour guide pointed out the essentials, I noticed girls stopping to point their phones in our direction. At first, I thought I was just being paranoid, but Sloane glanced back at me, her expression uneasy.

“Can you excuse me for a second?” she asked the tour guide before walking up to me and subtly nodding her head in the other direction.

“You’re causing a scene looking so hot around here,” she joked, glancing down at the ground.

I looked around, and it became glaringly obvious that people were watching us. Why wouldn’t they? She was the daughter of the President, and she was a fucking babe.

“You wanna go, baby?” I asked quietly, making sure we were out of earshot.

She nodded quickly, and all I wanted to do was pick her up and carry her to the hotel, Kevin Costner and Whitney Houston style.

“Alright,” I said, nodding decisively. I glanced back at the tour guide and gestured for him to come over.

He approached us swiftly.

“We gotta cut the tour short. Sloane is getting too much unwanted attention. Thanks for the tour,” I explained, then turned around to lead her away.

“Thank you!” Sloane called over my shoulder before turning to walk toward the hotel.

“O-okay. Thank you, Miss Sloane!” the tour guide replied, his voice trailing off.

My baby’s legs were much shorter than mine, but you’d think she was a fucking giraffe the way she was striding. We finally made it off campus and past all the college chaos when she suddenly slowed and broke down in tears. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around her—I wasn’t about to just stand there and let her cry. She held on tightly, and in that moment, I didn’t give a fuck if anyone saw us.

“It’s going to be like this everywhere. Why bother going to an in-person college? I can do what I need to do online, right? I’ll just stay in your apartment 24/7, and you’ll never have to leave me, and we’ll never be bothered.” Her words tumbled out in a rush, her breath hitching between sobs, never lifting her head from my chest.

“We can do whatever you want, baby. You can bounce on my cock while you do your homework either way,” I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

She laughed through her tears and lifted her head to look up at me; her teary eyes made my heart ache. “This place sucks. Let’s go back to the hotel.”

* * *

Sloane and I fucked in the shower, using my cock to help her forget all about her shitty tour experience. After we dried off, she immediately crawled into bed naked, and I quickly followed, wrapping my arms around her. As I held her close, I glanced out the window, watching the sun set and transform the California sky into a swirl of orange and pink. I gently rubbed my hand up and down her soft arm, feeling content and sleepy.

The sudden loud vibration of her phone broke the silence, making both of us jump. She grabbed her phone with a look of irritation, likely annoyed that it interrupted our peaceful moment.

I glanced over as she unlocked her phone, and my heart dropped—it was a zoomed-in photo of me from earlier at the college. I was crossing my arms, looking over my shoulder, seemingly at the camera.

“What the fuck?” I asked, almost in sync with Sloane.

She scrolled down, and I caught a glimpse of the text over her shoulder: UM, EXCUSE ME. Sloane Gabriela Martin. Who is this fucking babe following you around UCB? Your new bodyguard?

Sloane let out a snort, clearly amused.

“It’s my friend, Taylor,” she explained.

“Well, how the fuck did she get that picture?” I was too confused to feel amused or flattered.

Sloane began texting back: Yes, that’s Callan, my new bodyguard. How did you get this?!

We both waited quietly for a response as the text bubbles appeared. She sent back a link and then added: He’s more popular than your dad right now. BABE, he’s a babe.

Sloane tapped on the link, leading us to a series of threads on a social media site. She scrolled so fast I could barely keep up.

HOT NEW BODYGUARD ALERT. Sloane Martin seen touring UC Berkeley today with hot, tattooed DILF.

More fucking stalker photos of us from afar filled the screen. There were shots of me and Sloane standing a few feet apart, her beautiful smile directed at me; one of her with her hand on her hip, glancing at me while I spoke; and another where our elbows brushed as we both looked at something the tour guide was showing us.

If the focus had solely been on Sloane, I’d have been pissed. But in a strange way, I kinda liked seeing us together. I didn’t like that the attention made her uncomfortable, but I’d never had the chance to see us from the outside. From that distance, I didn’t look like an old man next to her—I liked how we looked together.

“Hey, I have an idea,” I blurted out before I could change my mind.

Sloane glanced up at me, her phone still in hand.

“Let’s take a selfie.” I felt like a fucking idiot using the word selfie , but we didn’t have any pictures of us together, and I wanted to see more.

A huge smile spread across her gorgeous lips, revealing that adorable dimple. She looked back down at her phone, opened the camera app, and aimed it at us.

My heart stung at how beautiful she looked on the screen. Then there was me, appearing like an old, washed-up asshole with a permanent scowl. The lines on my forehead seemed to have appeared overnight. But when Sloane pressed her lips against my cheek, all my self-doubt faded away, and by the time she hit the shutter, I had a genuine smile on my face. She glanced at the phone and scooted closer, my arm instinctively wrapping around her. She laid her head on my chest and snapped another picture.

It was starting to sink in deeper that this girl was too good for me. She made me feel good, and why the fuck did she owe me that? She would soon find out what a piece of shit I really was. The sad truth was, I never tried to be an asshole—it just happened. Everything good in my life always seemed to run away screaming in the end. Yet, even knowing that, I couldn’t help myself with Sloane. I was addicted to her. I couldn’t give her up. I tried, but she didn’t let me. And I was so fucking thankful for that.

Sloane lowered the phone and looked up at me with her wide, brown eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Is my face that obvious?

I sighed and shook my head. “Baby, you’re too good for me,” I admitted quietly.

She rolled her eyes and sat up. “I don’t know why you keep saying that, Callan. Why am I too good for you?”

“Because you’re this fucking pure eighteen-year-old babe who hasn’t done anything bad in your life. I’m a hardened thirty-eight-year-old asshole who shouldn’t even be alive because of all the stupid decisions I’ve made.” I sat up, wringing my hands together.

Sloane was quiet for a moment, staring down at her hands. Then she looked back up at me, fire igniting in her eyes. “Please stop calling me so fucking ‘pure.’ Would you call an eighteen-year-old guy with the same history as me pure? It’s misogynistic to glorify a woman just because of her age or sexual history. Would I still be pure or ‘too good’ for you if I were twenty-five or thirty? If I’d slept with ten other guys? Callan, you need to cut this bullshit. Stop trying to make yourself feel bad about this situation, because you have nothing to be ashamed of. I initiated this, remember? I’m choosing to be in this relationship with you. I want you for you . I don’t care about your age or whatever bad decisions you think you’ve made in the past.”

Her passion was palpable, and tears welled in her eyes. Fuck, she was incredibly smart. I decided to keep my mouth shut and let her win this one.

“Alright, fine. Why don’t you show me how fucking unpure you are by getting on your knees and sucking my cock?”

A smile flickered across her face. “It’s impure , babe.” She was fucking correcting me and I loved it. “And let’s double up and film it.”

My cock instantly hardened. I knew she wasn’t a sweet little angel—my dirty girl was meant for me. I had to stop letting myself forget that.

“Yeah?” I shifted on the bed and took my cock out as I began to stroke myself.

Sloane licked her lips as she slunk her naked body to the floor on her knees. I hadn’t even realized her phone was still in her hand until her lips wrapped around the head of my cock and the makeshift mirror appeared beside us. There was something even fucking hotter about knowing I’d be able to watch this later.

“That’s right, baby.” I took my hands and grabbed her hair behind her head so I could see all of her pretty fucking face. “Take in Daddy’s cock like a good girl.”

Fuck, did I just call myself Daddy? Who fucking cares, she’s into it . Sloane moaned as she bobbed her head up and down, her eyes alternating between mine and the camera.

“Look at you, baby. So fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth. You want me to fuck your face, my sweet girl?”

She smiled with my cock still in her mouth. “Mmmhmm,” she moaned out.

God damn . My hips began to move up and down quickly as Sloane drooled on my cock, gagging but never looking away from me.

“Fuck, Sloane. Where do you want me to come?” I couldn’t hold off any longer—the whole concept of my cock in her mouth on camera pushed me over the edge.

“Mmm-mmmm—” She tried to speak as I slowed my hips; I chuckled to keep myself from coming.

“Your mouth, baby?”

She eagerly nodded, tears streaming down her face. I instantly continued to fuck her face, holding her head in place, making sure not to block the view for the camera. Her moans made my cock burst and pleasure took over my body, my throat grunting like a wild fucking animal.

I looked down at Sloane after I finished and she removed her mouth from my cock, swallowing my load with a smile.

“Mmm, so fucking tasty,” she said sweetly.

Fuck . I was ready to go again.

She threw her phone on the bed, pushed me down on my back, and straddled me with her wet pussy teasing my cock. She leaned down and trailed gentle kisses on my chest before looking up at me with a smile. “My turn.”