Page 78 of Flat Out
His forehead dropped to my shoulder, teeth scraping my skin. “Fuck, you’ll kill me.” He nipped at me again before pressing a gentle kiss to the tender spot. “I promise I’ll take care of every last ache, every need, until you’re begging me to stop. But right now—” He squeezed me, pinning me exactly where hewanted me. “You’re going to sit here, be so fucking good for me, and pay attention. Understand?”
I nodded, breath hitching. “Oui.”
“Good,” he said, brushing his lips over mine but not kissing me. “Because the sooner we finish this, the sooner I can ruin you properly.” Callum tapped the paper. “Start with Turn 5.”
With a deep breath, I did just that.
The hotel roomwas too quiet.
I’d drawn the curtains, stripped down to my briefs, and stretched out on the bed with an ice pack balanced over my ribs like a fucking patient. I told myself I’d nap while she finished debriefs. She’d be hours yet, while stuck in team meetings, press vultures, media scrums. Plenty of time for me to rest before she came back to fill me in, to plot our next moves.
Except when I closed my eyes, sleep didn’t find me. I was in pain, sure. My neck was stiff and my head throbbed consistently, but it was lessening each day. The bruises on my chest and shoulders were finally fading, yet my ribs hurt like a bitch, and if I twisted too hard, the laceration pulled and it fuckinghurt.
What got me through it, though, was hearing her voice in my head. Even alone, her spirit was still here with me, reminding me that no matter what, we’d always find our way back to each other.
I want you to take me there. My last virginity. I want your cock in my ass, Cal.
The words replayed, raw and wrecked, until my cock throbbed against the waistband of my briefs. Every nerve in my body went taut. Christ, I was hard enough to hurt.
I pressed my palm over the bulge, hissing as the pressure spiked. It would’ve been so easy to jerk off. To close my eyes, fist myself to the thought of her bent over the table in that cabana, whimpering in French as I shoved inside her.
But no. Not this. Not now.
If she was going to give me that last untouched piece of her, if she was going to let me make her mine in every sense of the word, then my orgasm belonged to her. She deserved it, earned it, owned it. I wouldn’t waste it into my own goddamn hand.
I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling, teeth clenched, chest rising and falling as though I’d run a sprint. My head spun with images I’d only ever craved before she whispered it into existence and gave life to something that would be sacred between us—her ass spread wide for me, her cries muffled into the sheets, my cock glistening with lube as I eased deeper into her tight little hole.
Mine. All fuckingmine.
I lasted ten minutes like that before I snapped. I couldn’t lie here any longer, couldn’t keep pacing the cage in my own head, couldn’t keep myself from thrusting into the covers out of desperation.
I needed to be ready for her. I needed to make this more than a dirty fantasy.
The city was still buzzingwhen I stepped out, a worn black cap tugged low, hoodie zipped despite the heat. I didn’t care if anyone recognized me, but I did care about shielding my eyes from the blinding sun.
That didn’t matter, though. I was on a mission, driven by my own desire.
The sex shop wasn’t far. It was a dingy storefront tucked between a pharmacy and a tourist market, complete with neon lights glowing pink in the window. I walked in like I belonged there, my eyes scanning the shelves until they spotted what I was looking for.
Lube.
I grabbed two bottles of silicone and two water-based. Then a box of condoms, not because I needed them but because I knew she’d worry if I didn’t have them.Just in case.
Pausing in front of the toys, I slowly reached for a small, curved plug that would let me warm her up slow, and—fuck it—a slim black vibrator, because if she hadn’t packed one, she’d thank me later when I teased her clit until she begged for mercy. It would help her relax as she settled into me, taking my pierced dick all the way to the hilt, squeezing me until I could barely breathe.
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
I found my hands lingering over the racks of bondage gear. Leather cuffs, crops, ropes. The image of her bratty little smirk flashed in my head—her rolling her eyes, mouthing off, daringme while she crossed her arms and popped her hip in that way I loved so goddamn much. Christ, I wanted to bend her over and leave stripes on her thighs until she cried.
I almost groaned, my cock pulsing so hard I was certain I had very little blood left in my brain.
God, I wanted her bound. Forced to take every inch of me while I broke her down into whimpers and pleas. The thought of controlling every gasp, every twitch, every orgasm until she was nothing but wrecked and pliant for me made my spine shiver.
I wanted her bratty too. Wanted her mouthy and smug, pushing me until I had to punish her, until I could flip her over my lap and spank her just to hear her cry out my name. Red skin welting under my palms, pussy leaking down her thighs, hair swinging as she pushed back into me like the desperate little slut she was for me.
But then—fuck—I thought about Monaco. The shower. Her standing over me, steam curling around her body like smoke, my lips on her thighs, my tongue worshiping her cunt while she tangled her fingers in my hair and let me drown in her. Yes, she was my good girl, but she was also my queen, my goddess, my forever. And Christ help me, I’d have gotten on my knees and stayed there for eternity if she asked.
I realized I was just standing there, staring at the display like a creep, breathing too hard, a fucking weirdo in the middle of a shop. My knuckles whitened on the edge of the shelf, and I knew I needed to get the fuck out before I embarrassed myself.
