His Red Carnation (Forbidden Blooms #1)

39. Sloane

39

Sloane

It had been a few weeks since the hospital, and while the dull ache in my side was still there, things felt calmer now. The worst of it was over, and the quiet comfort of Callan’s apartment had become exactly what I needed. Healing wasn’t just physical—it was the peace I felt here, wrapped in his blanket, knowing I was safe.

I curled up on the couch, the soft light filtering through the curtains, and let myself relax. I never knew love like this was possible—so steady and comforting. I had never felt so completely cared for, so at home. Callan had been by my side through all of it, taking care of me, and I loved him for it. I loved him in a way I didn’t know I could.

He was in the kitchen, making coffee like he did every morning. I could hear the soft clinks of mugs, the smell of the brew filling the air. Being with him like this, in these quiet moments, felt like something I’d never imagined I could have.

“You want some coffee?” he called from the kitchen, his voice gentle.

I smiled, sinking deeper into the cushions. “Yes, please, Daddy.”

A few minutes later, he came over, handing me a cup before sitting down beside me. He didn’t need to say anything, didn’t need to ask how I was feeling. We had been through enough, and now it was about just being here, together. Letting the rest of the world fade away while we stayed in this quiet little space we had carved out for ourselves.

I leaned my head against his shoulder, feeling his warmth. In this moment, I felt whole, like the outside world didn’t matter. With him, everything else faded.

But then, as I rested my head against Callan’s shoulder, my mind drifted back to the chaos that had led us here. It was crazy—terrifying, really—how everything had spiraled so quickly with Sarah. She wasn’t just some random threat; she had planned it all so carefully, down to the smallest detail.

My stomach twisted as I thought about how she had leaked the sex video of her and my dad to the media. She had help—someone working in the shadows, making sure that the story exploded everywhere. The scandal was too big, too ugly for anyone to contain, and it forced my dad to resign. The weight of it all still hung over me, suffocating at times.

I closed my eyes, trying to push the memories away, but they kept coming. Sarah’s twisted smile, the way she manipulated every situation, how she seemed to delight in tearing my family apart. My dad wasn’t innocent, though—he had made his choices. He had slept with her, knowing what kind of person she was.

But it wasn’t just the resignation that haunted me. It was my mom. She left him. My mom, always the one who held everything together, had finally walked away. I couldn’t blame her, but the weight of it all had been too much for me to carry. My family was broken, and every piece of it was a reminder of how things would never be the same.

I was angry at my dad. Angry that he had been so careless, that he hadn’t thought about what it would mean for us. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to forgive him for that.

Callan’s hand gently rested on my leg, pulling me out of the spiral. I hadn’t realized how tightly I’d been gripping the edge of the blanket, lost in the whirlwind of my thoughts.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his eyes filled with concern.

Callan’s hand stayed on my leg, grounding me, his presence pulling me back from the weight of everything. I took a deep breath, letting the warmth of his touch seep into me. It helped— he helped.

“I’ll be alright,” I whispered, my voice softer than I intended, but I meant it. I turned to him, meeting his eyes. “Especially with you here.”

He didn’t say anything right away, but the look on his face was all I needed. His thumb gently traced circles on my leg, a silent reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Being with you…it makes everything feel a little less heavy,” I said, my voice steadier.

His expression softened, his eyes filled with something deep, something that made me feel safe. “I got you, baby.”

And he did. Through all of it—the chaos, the pain, the anger—I knew I could lean on him. I didn’t have to carry the weight of everything on my own. I had him.

“I know,” I whispered, feeling the tightness in my chest start to ease. “I don’t think I could do this without you.”

Callan didn’t say anything more; he just pulled me closer, wrapping his arm around me as I rested my head against his chest. The outside world still felt overwhelming, but with him by my side, I knew I’d be alright.

“Hey,” he whispered, his hand trailing slowly along the inside of my thigh. “Why don’t you sit back, relax, and open those beautiful legs of yours. Let me feast on your pretty pussy.” His voice was a playful mix of seduction and warmth, sending a flutter through my chest.

Throughout my recovery, he had been so gentle—always patient, but never holding back his desire. There were times when I begged for him, needing him so badly, and he’d happily oblige. A few moments even had me worried my stitches might tear, but it didn’t matter. I needed him in a way that made everything else fade away.

Before I could even respond, Callan slunk down on his knees in front of the couch, gently parting my legs as he thumbed my panties and lowered them to the floor. My heart began to race as his hands trailed back up to my thighs, his hazel-green eyes fixed on mine. I lifted my hips slightly in anticipation as he licked his lips, giving me a small smirk. He started to trail gentle kisses up my thigh, trying to tease me, and succeeding.

“Come on, Daddy. Make me come, and then maybe I’ll let you come inside of me,” I whispered, though my tone was firm. Callan loved when I was dominant, and seeing him on his knees for me always made me feel like the powerful goddess that I was, a title he never let me forget.

He grunted, biting on his lower lip, and I took my hands to his hair, pulling him closer. He exhaled before pressing his lips firmly to my pussy, his tongue instantly finding my clit. I watched as he lapped his tongue around, a look of desire and hunger from him as we locked eyes. The heat in my core began to swell and my hips bucked up and down in anticipation of my orgasm. Callan moaned loudly, sending a vibration through his mouth, causing my pussy to seize with release as he gripped my thighs hard. I clenched my eyes shut, my cries of pleasure echoing throughout the living room, and I immediately chased another orgasm, using Callan’s tongue and mouth as my personal fuck toy, and I came again and again.

“Fuck, I can’t handle it. I’m gonna fucking burst, baby,” Callan mumbled before removing his mouth from my pussy, staring up at me eagerly as I blinked open my eyes.

He was waiting for permission, and I loved the way we switched roles based on our moods. I loved how much he had opened himself up for new possibilities, how open-minded he had become.

“Fine.” I sighed, faking exasperation, unable to contain my smile.

“Fuck yes. Thank you, baby. Thanking you for letting me fuck your sweet pussy,” he said eagerly as he lifted himself from the floor and lowered his boxer briefs, letting his cock spring free.

I giggled as I lifted my legs and set my feet on the couch, opening wide for him. I felt a tinge of pain on my side, but I ignored it, needing Callan more than anything.

“Come on then, Daddy. Show me how much you appreciate it,” I said with a sly smile.

He eyed me intently as he positioned me flat on my back and hovered over me, carefully aligning himself as I lifted my legs and wrapped them around his hips. Lately he had been careful not to press his weight against my body for fear of hurting me, and that just meant I got to see his muscled, tattooed body work hard to fuck me.

He slid into me deeply and exhaled as he remained still, looking down at me with widened eyes and pure awe. I rested my hands on his biceps and smiled, slightly lifting my hips with impatience.

“What, baby? You told me to appreciate your pussy, and I’m admiring how fucking good you feel,” he said with a grin, knowing he was teasing me.

“I know what you’re doing. You better start fucking me fast or I won’t let you at all,” I quipped back.

Callan’s grin widened as he began to pump his hips, slowly at first, gradually going faster. He watched as my boobs bounced underneath my thin cotton shirt, my nipples hard from his touch. His eyes trailed back up to mine, and as he perfectly fucked me, rubbing against my g-spot, I cried out with pleasure.

“Come inside me. Now,” I breathed out, then my pussy began to pulse around his cock, a wave of heat enveloping my body. Only a second later, Callan grunted out with pleasure, his loud moans filling the room.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he said as he caught his breath, sitting back and letting my thighs rest around his legs, his cum spilling out of me.

Without hesitation, he got back onto his knees and lifted my legs, wrapping them around his shoulders. He began to lick me clean, and as I watched him and felt his tongue lapping around inside of me, the fire in my core began to burn again. I lifted my hips, seeking more, craving everything he had to give. I knew I would always want more when it came to Callan, and luckily, we had all the time in the world.

* * *

In the following weeks, I watched as the media tore my dad apart. His resignation dominated the headlines, with some calling it the biggest scandal since the Clinton-Lewinsky affair. I did my best to avoid it, but it was everywhere—social media, texts from friends, people on the street hounding me for my opinion.

My mom handled it with nothing but grace. She made a public statement about their divorce, never once speaking ill of my dad—at least, not publicly—before whisking herself off to Spain to spend time with my abuela. She said she’d move back to New York when the time was right.

Sarah was being held in a federal detention center, awaiting her trial in federal court. We didn’t know when the trial would be, but I planned to be there, no matter what. I wasn’t going to let her slip through the cracks of the system, and neither was Callan. She had torn my life apart—torn my family apart—and I’d do everything in my power to make sure she spent as much time in prison as possible.

But as much as Sarah haunted my thoughts, I wasn’t going to let her control my future. I had things to look forward to, things she could never take away from me.

Callan and I were packing for our two-week vacation to Fiji. It was the perfect escape before the next big chapter of our lives. After several acceptances from colleges, I’d finally decided on UCLA, majoring in psychology with a minor in Gender Studies. I’d be starting that fall, and I couldn’t wait.

Before we packed up and moved across the country, I wanted this time with Callan, a break from everything that had happened. Just the two of us, somewhere far away, where we could leave the past behind, even if only for a little while.

And then my phone rang, pulling me from my thoughts. A gnawing ache of dread filled my chest as I saw the name on the screen—Dad. As much as I wanted to avoid him, as much as I was still angry at him for everything he had done, he was still my dad.

I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the screen before I finally answered.

“Hey, Sloane,” his voice came through, softer than usual, almost cautious. “I’m glad you answered. I just…I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

There was a pause, the weight of his words hanging between us. After everything that had happened, after everything he had done, he was apologizing. Part of me wanted to tell him it was too late, that it didn’t change anything. But another part of me—the part that still wanted to hold on to the idea of him—couldn’t let go that easily.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” he continued, sensing my silence. “I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry. For everything.”

I swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. I wasn’t ready to accept his apology, not yet. Maybe not ever. But I couldn’t dismiss it, either. At least not completely.

“Okay,” I said finally, my voice quiet and guarded. “I hear you.”

I didn’t offer more, and he didn’t push. The call ended, leaving things unresolved, like so much between us.

I stared at my phone for a few moments after the call ended, the weight of it still pressing down on me. The apology lingered, but it wasn’t enough to wash away everything that had happened. I wasn’t sure it ever would be.

Callan sensed the shift in my mood because as he walked in our room, his eyes were soft with concern. Without a word, he sat beside me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me close. I leaned into him, grateful for the quiet comfort that only he could give.

“You okay, baby?” he asked softly, his voice low and soothing.

I nodded, though the knot in my chest told a different story. “It was my dad,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. “He apologized…for everything.”

Callan stayed silent at first, pulling me a little closer. “How do you feel about that?”

I sighed and smiled. He was so used to talking about his feelings now, and I was proud of him. I rested my head against his chest and said, “I don’t know. I’m not ready to accept it yet.”

“That’s okay,” he said gently. “You don’t have to be.”

We sat there for a few moments, the silence between us comfortable, and I felt the tension slowly start to ease. Callan always had a way of making me feel like everything would be alright, even when my mind was a mess.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered after a while, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head. “Let’s go to bed.”

I let him lead me to the bedroom, his hand warm and steady in mine. The weight of the day, of the call, started to slip away as I curled up next to him. In his arms, the weight on my chest began to lift, and I felt like I could finally breathe again. Whatever came next, I knew I had the strength to face it. With Callan by my side, the burden would always feel a little lighter.