Page 35 of Flat Out
“Shhh,” he soothed, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Don’t want to get caught, love, do we?”
“N-no,” I stammered. “Please. Justdon’t stop.”
"You want to beg? Fucking beg properly, Aurélie. Use your goddamn words."
Tears leaked from my eyes. He didn't understand what he was doing to me. "Je t’en supplie… baise-moi comme si je t’appartenais."I beg you… fuck me like I belong to you.
He kept curling, fingers hitting that spot inside me that made my whole body lock up. My orgasm built like a wave behind my eyes. I clenched around him, desperate to come. The other day, when I was on his bed, my orgasm had been so lackluster, and I'd been so in my head lately, had missed him so fucking much?—
“Such a good fucking girl for me, aren't you? Now I want you to tell me,” he murmured. “Tell me who owns you.”
"You," I gasped.
"Again, Aurélie."
“You do,” I sobbed. “You, toi, Callum,please.”
“That's right. Now beg for it again.”
“Please let me come. Please. I missed you so much, and I-I can’t take it?—”
“You can take it," he growled, and my pussy quivered around his fingers. So close, so fucking close. "That’s it. That’s my girl.”
But right as I was about to tip over the edge, he pulled out.
“No,” I choked, shaking. "No no no no?—"
He smiled—cruel and beautiful and smug—and leaned in close. Something shifted behind his gaze. For a beat, he just looked at me. His hand was still under my skirt, my thighs still trembling, my whole body feeling like a live wire waiting for contact.
“Don’t run from me again. You know I will chase you,” he murmured with a wicked smirk that told me he was thinking of the last time heliterallydid that. “I will find you. And when I do, I won’t be so fucking patient next time.”
“I won’t. I swear.”
“So good for me,” he growled—and just like that, I was gone for him again. "Because I'm not above stopping you on the fucking track if you try it again and showing everyone what you do to me."
"Putain, please, please,s'il te plaît, mon bébé, I need to come." I wasn't even sure what I was saying anymore, I was just unraveling for him and weak in the fucking knees.
He didn’t move back. Instead, his hand slipped into his pocket and came out holding two gleaming metal spheres, each one catching the low hallway light, connected by a black thread. My mouth went dry, my eyes dragging over them, brain faltering as I tried to process what he intended.
“Open,” he ordered.
I hesitated a second too long. His brow arched, and my stomach bottomed out. I parted my lips, heat rushing through me as he pressed one cool, heavy ball onto my tongue, followed by the other. The chill shocked me, and then the weight of them—dense, metallic, utterly fucking indecent—settled against my tongue like a dirty secret. He held my chin steady while I rolledthem in my mouth, the taste sharp and cold, my saliva coating the surface.
“Good girl,” he rasped, but his own breath stuttered, chest rising harder than before. His eyes were fixed on my mouth, pupils blown wide, like he was watching a live fantasy play out right in front of him.
I hollowed my cheeks, sucking until he hummed with approval. His hips gave the faintest rock forward, like he couldn’t stop himself, and a harsh sound tore out of him, a half-growl, half-moan. The sound shot straight through me, my clit throbbing so hard it hurt.
When he tugged on the string, I released the balls with a pop. His hand lingered on my jaw, thumb smearing spit across my bottom lip like he couldn’t get enough of the sight. A strand of slick clung between us, obscene and wet, and he groaned low in his throat, head tipping forward as if fighting for control.
“Fuck, Aurélie,” he panted, his forehead almost brushing mine now. “You don’t even fucking realize. Watching you suck them like that—Jesus Christ, I could come just from looking at you.”
He dragged his gaze down, slow and reverent, like he was memorizing me, then back up again with a heat so raw it burned. The smirk that finally broke across his mouth was feral, but his voice cracked with the force of his want. “And you’re mine. My filthy little brat.”
“Yours. Always,” I breathed, and his eyes pinned mine with a knowing stare. I physically softened, body drifting toward his like a magnet. It was what I wrote on the last Polaroid I left in his flat.
“Now,” Callum murmured, crouching just enough to slide them up under my skirt, his fingers brushing my folds before he pushed the first ball inside, then the second. The stretch of thecold steel was shocking, filling, my cunt clenching hard around the foreign weight. I bit down on a whimper.
Then, with that same devastating look on his face, he hooked two fingers into the waistband of my panties, and tugged them up. Tight and high, dragging the soaked lace up between my lips until it pressed right against my swollen clit. My entire body went taut, my toes curling in my heels and up, up, up I went on my tiptoes as I tried to chase the sensations.
