Mr. Callahan's secret.

Eva's Pov. 

My smile vanished immediately I turned. He was young — maybe mid-twenties, already loose with whatever he'd been drinking, leaning in a little closer than the space required. He was reeking of alcohol. 

"Not yet," I said, and turned back.

He shifted nearer. "You should. The water's nice. Don't you like hot guys?"

Hot guy? How's that even possible. I'm literally on the verge of closing my nose and even running out of here before I throw up. What does he feel like? Merlin? Most handsome? Okay, the guy is handsome. I would have considered him on a good day but today? 

"I'm good here." I managed to say while gritting my teeth. 

"Come on." His hand landed on my knee.

I looked at it. Then at him. "Don't," I said, closing my eyes as I shaked my head slowly. 

"Relax—"

"I said don't." I moved to stand and his hand closed around my wrist. Hard.

"Hey—" I pulled back. He didn't let go. "Let go of me—"

"You're fine—"

"Let go—!" My voice came out sharp and too loud over the music and I didn't care because his other hand was grabbing my waist and I twisted hard against him — "Get off me—"

And then he was gone.

Not slowly. Not gently. Yanked backward off the lounger like he weighed nothing, and the sound of it— the impact made the nearest people turn.

I scrambled upright, heart slamming. Mr. Callahan?

Mr. Callahan had the man by the collar. Oh my God! My eyes shone. 

I had never seen him look like that. Not once in all the years I'd known him. That stillness he carried, that quiet economy, was gone. Completely gone. What replaced it was something else entirely, something with no patience left in it, and he hit the man once and the man's knees buckled.

"Stop—" I was already moving. "Mr. Callahan—"

He hit him again. Faster this time. 

"Stop." I grabbed his arm with both hands, my fingers curling into the fabric of his sleeve. "Stop. He's not worth it. Stop."

He went still. Breathing hard. Jaw tight. He looked down at my hands on his arm then at me.

"Are you hurt?"

"No." My voice came out smaller than I wanted. "I'm okay. I'm okay."

He looked at me for a long moment. Like he was checking for himself whether that was true. The man on the ground was groaning quietly. Nobody near us said anything.

Then Aunt Lydia appeared.

She materialized from the crowd in a silk wrap and full makeup, sliding her hand through Dominic's arm with the ease of someone who had done it many times before.

"Dominic." Her voice was smooth. "Come. You've made your point."

He didn't move immediately. His eyes stayed on me for one more second.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm sure," I said. "Go."

He let Aunt Lydia lead him toward the house, and I watched them until the door swallowed them both.

I sat back down on the lounger. My hands were still shaking slightly. I pressed them flat against my thighs and breathed until they stopped.

Fifteen minutes passed. Maybe twenty.

"Enjoying yourself?"

I looked up.

Aunt Lydia stood in front of me. Alone now, wrap pulled tight around her shoulders, wine glass back in hand. She wasn't smiling but her eyes were doing something that wasn't quite warmth.

"I'm fine," I said carefully.

"Good." She tilted her head. "You should be careful, sweetheart."

"Sorry?"

"About where you direct your attention." She swirled her glass slowly. "Dominic is protective. He's like that with everyone in this house. It doesn't mean anything."

I kept my face very still. "I know that."

"Do you?" Her eyes stayed on mine. Pleasant. Sharp underneath. "I'm his mistress, Eva. Have been for three years. So whatever you're feeling right now—" she smiled thinly, "—I'd let it go. Before it becomes embarrassing."

She left before I could answer. Heels clicking on the stone.

I sat with it for a moment. Then I stood, smoothed down the burgundy suit that had seemed like such a good idea three hours ago, and walked toward the house. I needed water. I needed to be somewhere quieter. I needed to stop hearing his voice asking if I was hurt like it had actually mattered.

The hallway inside was dim and cooler than the pool deck. I let out a breath. I walked slowly.

I turned the corner. And stopped when my ears caught something, something fishy. Something familiar. 

The door to the small sitting room was open just enough. Just enough to see the shape of them — Aunt Lydia's silk wrap, his dark shirt, her hands at his collar.

The sound was soft. Unmistakable.

I watched his big hands. Muscular. Veiny. Flex as he ripped out her silk wrap. My eyes fell into my stomach but I pressed my hands fast enough over my mouth to suppress the gasp. Wasn't he angry about me just now? Or maybe he wasn't. 

Next Aunt Lydia was already working his lips kissing and licking them like her life belonged there. I felt a small tickle on my stomach, I swallowed hard. I guess she is his mistress afterall, who am I? 

I stood there for one horrible second that lasted much longer than a second. I should have kept walking or remind myself that this was none of my business but no. My foot won't bulge. 

Mr. Callahan’s fingers dug into Lydia's hips, yanking her closer until their bodies crashed together. She moaned into his mouth, a low, needy sound that vibrated through the cracked door and straight into my chest. Her wrap hung open now, exposing the lacy black bra that barely contained her full breasts. 

His hands roamed up, cupping them roughly, thumbs pressing against the fabric over her hardening nipples. Aunt Lydia arched her back, pushing into his touch, her lips breaking from his only to gasp, "Yes, like that. Touch me harder."

He didn't hesitate. With a growl, he shoved the bra down, her tits spilling out; round and heavy, nipples dark and erect. Mr. Callahan’s mouth descended, capturing one in a wet suck, his tongue swirling around the peak while his teeth grazed it just enough to make her whimper. Aunt Lydia's hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer, her body grinding against his thigh. I could see the flush creeping up her neck, the way her thighs rubbed together, seeking friction.

I swallowed hard, eyes burning from everything my brain was processing at nano second. My body trembled and I felt a lump in my throat. 

"Dominic," she breathed, her voice husky, laced with desperation. She reached down, fumbling with his belt, the metal clink echoing softly. His pants dropped to his knees, and there it was—his cock, thick and hard, jutting out from the open fly. It was bigger than I'd imagined, way bigger, veins pulsing along the shaft, the head already slick with pre-cum. Aunt Lydia wrapped her hand around it, stroking from base to tip, her grip firm and twisting at the top. He groaned, his hips bucking into her fist.

She dropped to her knees then, eyes locked on his as she leaned in. Her tongue flicked out, lapping at the underside of his cock, tracing the vein before swirling around the head. Mr. Callahan's hand tangled in her hair, guiding her as she took him into her mouth. She sucked deep, cheeks hollowing, her head bobbing with wet, slurping sounds that made my own core clench unexpectedly. 

I didn't realise my hands had gone under my undies until my hands suddenly felt wet. “Fuck.” I muttered taking a quick glance down before looking up at aunt Lydia as Saliva dripped down her chin, mixing with his pre-cum, as she worked him—taking him to the back of her throat, gagging slightly but not stopping.

Soon Mr. Callahan's breaths came ragged, his free hand bracing against the wall. "Fuck, Lydia," he muttered, thrusting shallowly into her mouth. “Take it like the little slut you are.” She hummed around him, the vibration pulling another curse from his lips. But she pulled off suddenly, strings of spit connecting her lips to his cock. Standing, she pressed against him again, her hand still pumping his length.

"I need it," she whispered, her voice breaking. "No condom, Dominic. Fuck me raw. Fill me up. Please.”

“Dominic please, I need your cock!”