Page 86 of Flat Out
Two drivers. Two people.
Two souls obsessed with one another, burning to the ground just to feel more.
Two bodies pushing every limit, exploring every corner of love and lust until there was no line left between us.
A sound tore free of me, broken and raw. A whimper, for Christ’s sake. She’d undone me so completely I could barely form words. My forehead pressed to her temple, sweat dripping down my spine as I fought not to come like a bloody teenager.
Her body clenched again, and I slipped my hand from her throat to her hips, holding on like a drowning man. “Aurélie…” My voice cracked, thick with too much. “If you move—Christ, if you move?—”
But she did.
Her thighs quivered as she lifted an inch, then sank back down with a slick, devastating squeeze that ripped a roar from my chest. My chin dropped to her shoulder, a curse tumblingfrom my lips as I fought for air and leaned in to her for safety, for steadfastness, for reassurance that we were in this together. The mirror showed me ruin in real time—her taking me so perfectly, me coming apart beneath her.
Aurélie wound her arms around the back of my head, her spine arching as though she was offering herself to me. I kissed her collarbone, and the shift pulled me even deeper, a brutal, beautiful angle that had me hissing through clenched teeth. Her fingers tangled in my hair, tugging hard, anchoring me to her.
I didn’t fucking care about the pain. Didn’t care about the bruises or the injuries. Because when she held on to me as fiercely as I held on to her—when our bodies glued together like they’d never come apart again—nothing else fucking mattered.
She used her hold on me as leverage, her body rising and sinking, the rhythm stealing every shred of my composure. She rode me again. And again. Each movement was torture, slow and intentional, dragging my piercing through her silky heat until sweat stung my eyes and my chest heaved.
“Fuck,” I ground out, hips jerking up to meet her, the chair rattling under us. “You’ll be the death of me.”
Her reflection met mine, eyes bright gold in the candlelight, and plump lips parted, and then—God help me—she spoke.
“Mon dieu,” she moaned, accent thick and dripping sin, her voice turning into something raspy and wrecking. “Tu me détruis… tu me fais tienne.”
God, you’re destroying me… you’re making me yours.
She said it in her addicting French, sinful and feminine and devastating, and it shot straight through me, igniting every raw edge until I was shaking with it.
Her praise wrapped around me tighter than her body, and my eyes burned with the force of it—because fuck, I finally understood. I wasn’t just in love with her. I wasconsumed. Desperately, painfully, beautifully in love in a way I’d neverimagined possible. It ran deeper than veins, deeper than marrow. Every nerve ending in me flared with it, alive only for her.
“Christ, lass,” I groaned, the brogue I fought so hard to keep at bay, tore free, thick and unrestrained. “Ye’ll ruin me, Aurélie. Ruin me and I’ll thank ye for it.”
When she lowered down around me, when she pulled me tighter with her nails in my hair and her words in my bones, I knew there was no coming back. I was hers, utterly and forever.
“So strong,” she gasped, her voice trembling but sure. “So fucking good, Callum. You’re perfect.Myperfect.”
The words ripped through me like a shunt at full throttle. My hips snapped up hard, the chair screeching across the floor as I buried myself deeper, desperate to prove her right. My grip on her hips turned punishing, branding her with my need.
The moment detonated inside me. Her praise was like fuel poured straight into my veins, feeding something wild and desperate I never knew I needed.
“Aurélie,” I groaned, forehead pressing into the back of her neck as I drove into her. “Don’t—don’t say things like that unless you want me to lose it.”
But she only rocked harder, her praise tumbling out like a litany. “So deep. God, you fill me so good. Nobody else, no one, only you. Always you.”
I broke then, a gruff sound tearing from me as I hauled her down on my cock, chest heaving, every thrust a prayer, a plea, a vow. She was praising me.Me, not the driver, not the image, but the man beneath it all, and I’d never felt more undone in my life.
I bit down on her shoulder again, hard enough to leave a twin mark by the other, and fumbled the vibrator from her clit, tossing it blindly across the room. I needed nothing between us. Just her. Only her.
One hand clamped her jaw, tilting her head back onto my shoulder, I kissed her messily, open-mouthed, teeth and tongues, sweat-slicked lips sliding together. She tasted of salt and sex and Aurélie, and I drank her in like a man dying of thirst. My other arm snaked low around her waist, palm gliding up over her belly to her breasts. Her nipple pebbled under my touch, and I rolled it between my fingers until she sobbed into my mouth.
I trailed lower, through the slick mess coating her slit. Christ, she was drenched for me. My fingers found her clit first, circling, teasing, before slipping down and pressing into her. One finger, then two, sinking deep, pumping in tandem with my cock already buried to the hilt in her ass.
And I couldfeeleverything. Every ridge, every flutter, every desperate pulse of her body tightening around me. Her walls spasmed around my fingers at the same time her ass milked my cock, and it was so fucking overwhelming I saw white behind my eyes.
“Look at ye,” I rasped, kissing the corner of her mouth, then her temple, my accent thick, guttural. “So tight for me, mon cœur. So perfect. We were made for each other, Aurélie Dubois. I love you.”
She keened, wild and gorgeous, nails clawing into my hair, pulling until my scalp burned. Her back arched hard into my chest, her body using mine for leverage, grinding, humping, chasing the edge like she’d drag me over with her.
