Page 50 of Flat Out
Callum growled low and deep, as if it came from somewhere feral. “That’s much better,” he murmured, his eyes dragging over my bare chest, then lower. “Tits out. Cunt soaked. You really are my pathetic little mess, aren’t you?”
There was a sound. A soft, humiliating squelch between my thighs.
We both heard it.
He chuckled, the sound dark and sadistic.
That sound would haunt me. I knew it. He’d make me remember it, maybe even punish me for it, make me kneel in themess I couldn’t stop making until I begged for him to show me mercy. And the worst part? I’d fucking love it.
I made a sound—half cry, half moan—and another gush followed. I whimpered again, the sound pitiful and raw as tears formed in my eyes and spilled over. “I can’t stop,” I whispered, horrified. “It won’t stop.”
He crouched to eye level again, his expression sharp with desire. “That’s because you don’twantit to. You want to drown in it. You want me toseeit. You want to be ruined in a puddle of your own desire so there’s no going back.”
A sob caught in my throat. It was true.
“And you know what?” he murmured, brushing his thumb over my tear-soaked cheek. “I think it’s beautiful.”
He didn’t just say it. He meant it. My shame, my need—it wasn’t too much for him. It was agift.
He stood. I couldn't take it anymore and pitched forward, bracing myself on my hands so I was on all fours. "Callum," I cried, more tears leaking from my eyes as my head dropped.
He stroked my head, and it was so humiliating, so fucking humbling, but I couldn't stop. I deserved it. I wanted it. Iaskedfor it.
"Love hearing you say my name, baby." He retreated, and when I raised my head, I saw him pause by the bed, bend down to grab his bag, and rifle through it. "You're being so good, Aurélie. You have been all night. But you still owe me."
A broken noise rattled through me. My pussy leaked more. Tears and snot mingled on my skin. "Please. Please, Callum. I need you."
This physical, visceral reaction didn’t feel like a betrayal anymore. It felt like inevitability, as though my body had decided on its own to give him every last piece of me, to offer up proof of how completely he owned me, drop by humiliating drop.
He tilted his head, mock sympathy in his eyes. A glint of silver in his hands caught my eye, but I couldn't make out what it was before he tucked it into the back of his pants. My stomach flipped. It could’ve been anything—a toy, a clamp, a cuff. My mind spun through every filthy possibility, every punishment he’d threatened, every unspoken promise in his eyes. Whatever it was, I knew I’d take it. I’d take it all, gladly and desperately, like his own personal whore.
“God, you’re such a wreck, but you beg prettier than I remembered.”
Heat crawled down my neck. My thighs trembled from holding the position.
“Say it,” he growled. “Say you’re desperate.”
“I’m—” My voice cracked. “I’m desperate.”
“For what?”
“You.”
“Be fucking specific.”
"Je veux ta bite," I whispered.
His brow lifted and he demanded, "InEnglish."
“I want your cock. I want it in my mouth. I want you to use me. Ruin me.”
He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Still too pretty with your words.” Then he let out a low, dangerous laugh. "There's a time and a place for your language. But right now, my love, I'm in charge. You'll beg in my tongue. You'll come on it, too."
Jesus."You can have me, Cal. Fuck me like you hate me, kiss me like you miss me, mark me like you're branding me. I don't care. Just take me as I am." Another sob tore out of me, and my head dropped as the tears fell in earnest. "I'myours."
"Look at me." I did. He was blurry through my tears. He glanced at the mess I was kneeling in, then back at me as if I was nothing but hunger incarnate—a woman undone and drenched in her own desire. This wasn’t about sex anymore. This wasritual. Discipline. Worship. My surrender was his gift, and his control was my salvation. I wanted to give him every ounce of it until there was nothing left of me but obedience and his name on my lips.
“Crawl to me, Aurélie.”
