Because He Steals Me (Because He Owns Me #6) by Hannah Ford Read Free Book Online Page B

grass.
    “Something like that.”
    He got out of the car and walked around to my side, opened my door and helped me out before pulling me close.
    “Jesus, you smell good,” he murmured. He closed the door behind me and then put his hands on either side of me, pinning me back up against the car. His hand snaked up under my skirt. My clit throbbed as he pushed against the vibrator that had been inside of me all day.
    “Callum,” I whispered.
    “Yes, baby?”
    “Are you going to… I mean, I want to …”
    “You want to fuck?”
    I nodded.
    “Say it.”
    “I want you to fuck me.”
    He grinned. “I am going to fuck you, baby. I’m going to fuck you hard and make you sore. But first I’m going to take you on a date.”
    He wrapped his hand around mine and led me down the street.
    With every step, I could feel the vibrator inside of me.
    He knew it, too, and he loved it, loved torturing me the way he was.
    We walked through the entrance of the park and began heading down the winding cobblestone paths that wound through the greenery.
    I clutched Callum’s hand, not wanting to talk, not wanting to ask him where we were going or what he was planning. Usually, I didn’t like surprises, but today, I wanted to be surprised.
    A moment hung in the air between us, the perfect kind of moment that was filled with anticipation, the kind of moment where nothing could go wrong. The air was warm, the sun was dipping down over the East River in the distance, and we were flanked by the Manhattan Bridge on one side and the Brooklyn Bridge on the other.
    As we walked, the joggers and picnickers and touristy families began to thin out, and we came to a huge carousel that was sitting at the far end park, the horses wooden and painted in shades of intense pastels – blues, greens, pinks, yellows.
    “What is this?” I breathed.
    “Jane’s Carousel.”
    “And we’re riding it?”
    He grinned. “If you want to. I was thinking we could have dinner first.”
    As we walked closer, I noticed there was a building made of glass next to the carousel. Callum led me inside.
    The space was wide open and huge, the kind of space that must have been used for weddings and events, the kind of weddings and events that cost tens of thousands of dollars, the kinds of weddings and events I would never be invited to in a million years.
    But today there was just one table, a table set for two, with a red rose on one of the plates.
    “It’s a restaurant?” I asked as Callum pulled my chair out for me.
    “Tonight it is.”
    I sat down and he took the seat across from me. He poured me a glass of water from a crystal pitcher filled with water and slices of bright yellow lemon.
    “This is amazing,” I said, looking around and taking it all in. The East River shimmered in the distance, seagulls flew overhead, and the night air brushed against my skin.
    Callum reached across the table and took my hand in his, brushing my knuckles softly with his thumb. “Hungry?”
    “Starving.”
    A second later, a tuxedoed waiter set two plates of food down in front of us, each one filled with prime rib, carrots and snow peas, and baby red potatoes.
    The waiter disappeared before I could thank him.
    “I cancelled the appetizers.” Callum picked up his napkin and set it in his lap.
    “Why?”
    “Because I want to fuck you more than I want some bullshit shrimp cocktail.”
    I grinned. “Shrimp cocktail is so overrated.”
    “Is it?”
    “Yes.”
    We began to eat, talking about everything and nothing the way we had that first night at his house in Florida – sports, movies, books. He told me about what he’d been doing down in Florida, about how he’d been invited to become a partner in Tampa’s new major league baseball team, the Tampa Bay Pirates.
    “Are you going to do it?” I asked.
    “I’m not sure.” He leaned back in his chair and regarded me over the table. “I bet you’d look sexy in a baseball jersey.”
    I blushed at his compliment. He