Page 77 of Flat Out
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to look at the paper. “I am focused,” I whispered, even though my pulse said otherwise. It was a lie, and we both knew it as my hips betrayed me with the faintest roll against him.
He hummed, skeptical, the sound vibrating against my spine. “Liar.” He pressed a gentle kiss to my jaw. Then his stubble brushed my bare shoulder—exposed from removing my hoodie earlier—scraping lightly across the sensitive skin near my collarbone as he leaned closer to point something out on the sheet.
The sensation went straight to my clit. A zap, sharp and unbearable, coiling low in my belly. My toes curled inside my trainers, a whimper nearly escaping before I bit it back.
Don’t think about his belt. Don’t think about how good it felt when he spanked you last night after you mouthed off about the ice packs. Don’t think about the riding crop you Googled at two in the morning, wondering if you’d like the sting of leather cracking across your thighs. Don’t think about how right now, the weight of his body holding you still feels better than any restraint you’ve ever imagined.
His breath ghosted over my neck, calm and in control. The ridge of his cock pressed hard beneath his jeans, snug against the curve of my ass, and the contact nearly undid me. Heatbolted through my veins, deep and consuming, because my body remembered.
Every time he’d pressed slick fingers inside my asshole, patient but relentless. The way he stretched me, slow and careful, whispering how good I was for him, how he’d open me up, readying me for the day I could take him back there.
And then—God, my blood went molten—I pictured it. Him forcing me onto all fours, his tongue fucking my tight little hole until I was crying for it, until I was begging for him to split me open with that pierced cock, until I didn’t know if I could survive it but needed it anyway. The only thing I hadn’t given to anyone else, that would be all his, only his, forever.
The image slammed into me so hard my thighs clenched around his, my back arched, my breath came ragged. It was violent, visceral, a need so fierce it frightened me.
I bit back a whimper, pressing my lips together hard, but he felt it—the way I shuddered, the way my muscles trembled against him. His free hand abandoned the papers, slipping under my top to flatten against my stomach, holding me still while his thumb stroked lazy circles just above the waistband of my leggings.
Butterflies erupted deep in my belly, and this time I didn’t stop the quiet moan.
“Mm,” he hummed knowingly against my ear, his stubble scraping my skin. A shiver rolled through me, my nipples tightening. “Thinking filthy little thoughts, aren’t you?”
My head tipped back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut, the papers in front of me blurring. “Cal…”
He kissed just beneath my jaw, maddeningly gentle. “You want me to ruin you right here, baby? In this little cabana where anyone could walk in?” His hand slid lower, palm cupping my mound through the thin fabric, the heel of his hand pressing exactly where I needed it most.
“Please,” I gasped, hips jerking despite myself. He didn’t move fast, didn’t give me enough friction to tip me over. Just enough pressure, just enough teasing to make me spiral, to make my arousal leak more.
Every nerve ending in my body was begging. I writhed against his palm, my clit throbbing, soaking through my leggings all over his hand, but he never sped up. Never let me take what I wanted.
“You’ll come when I say,” he murmured, voice raspy and merciless. His cock flexed against my ass. “Not before.”
It was unbearable, exquisite, utterly sinful. I braced my hands on his thighs, clawing at them, my chest heaving, my entire body arching into the pleasure. Hips rocking brazenly, eager for relief. My orgasm hovered, building desperately in its intensity, but he held me there—edging me, denying me, forcing me to tremble in his arms while his voice anchored me with filth and control.
And God help me, I loved it.
I wanted him to hold me here, to keep me pinned until I broke, to wait until the orgasm was so powerful that blackness crept in on the corners of my vision.
“See this?” he murmured, dragging a fingertip across one of the sheets. “Your dampers in Sector 2 are set too stiff. No wonder it’s bucking under you.” He paused, head tilting, voice softening as his lips brushed the shell of my ear. The palm on my belly flexed, and my pussy clenched around nothing but need, desperate and humiliating in its honesty.
Fuck, why did he makedamperssound so sexy?
“Tell me what you want, mon cœur.”
The words slipped out before I could stop them, raw and wrecked, barely sounding like me. “I want you to take me there,” I gasped. “My last virginity. I want your cock in my ass, Cal.I think about it all the time. You making me yours completely. Forever.”
He groaned, a sound torn from his chest, hips pressing upward into me so the thick ridge of him ground hard against my ass. Dry humping me, shameless, like he’d been starving for it. His hand pushed my damp hair over my shoulder so his teeth could sink into my neck.
“Putain,” I swore.Fuck. “S’il te plaît,ne t'arrête pas.”Please, don’t stop.
“Christ, Aurélie,” he rasped against my skin, voice fraying. “You don’t know how many times I’ve dreamt of that. Every last piece of you belonging to me. Not because I own you, but because youaskme to.”
I half giggled, half moaned, one hand latching onto his forearm. “Then make it real.”
His grip on me tightened, dragging me back so my clit ground against the seam of my leggings, stretched taut and cruel over swollen flesh. We were panting and writhing, sweat prickling my temples.
“You do this again, tease me like this in public?” His Scottish accent was dark velvet, a promise and a threat all at once. “I’ll make you sit on my cock under the table. Keep me buried inside you. No one will know but us.”
A desperate, guttural laugh tore out of me, head tipping back against his shoulder. “And I’ll do it. I’ll sit there like your perfect girl, dripping for you, knowing I’m full of you while the rest of the world has no idea.”
