Page 29 of Red Flagged
He moaned into me like that confession alone could make him come.
I couldn’t reach for him or guide his touch. I could only feel and be held. Let myself be taken. I was bound in every sense of the word—by leather, by love, by the feral, careful hands of the man who knew exactly how to break me open. And I had never felt so safe.
He was behind me, out of sight buteverywhere. My world had narrowed to sensation. The wet glide of his tongue. The heat of his mouth. The way his fingers spread me wider so he could lick deeper. The roughness of his facial hair scraped against the slick skin between my legs. I had no control, no idea what he’d do next, just the feel of it, the molten pleasure building again in my belly, the slurping sounds echoing indecently off the walls. It was filthy. It was sacred. It was everything.
His tongue flicked through my folds again, and I swore I saw stars. My thighs shook from the pressure rising, from the sheer eroticism of being eaten out from behind like I was his goddamn religion. Like he didn’t care about anything except making me sob from his exaltation.
My hips rocked back instinctively, chasing the friction, but his hands clamped down and held me still.
“No,” he barked, and the vibrations went straight through my pussy and up my spine. “You stay fucking still. Be a good girl. Let me worship what’s mine.”
I moaned loudly as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. It was too much. Not the pain or the restraint, but theintimacy.The precision. The devotion.He licked again, rougher now. Tongue wide, flat, unrelenting. He circled my clit like he was crafting pleasure from the inside out, and judging by the surge of warmth that rushed up deep inside me, he was doing exactly that.
Then he bit.
Just enough to make me shriek. His lips closed over my folds and hebit them together, latching over the seam and sucking, firm and filthy, and I cried out as my entire body trembled. His grip tightened on my hips, holding me upright as he suckedhard, as if he was trying to brand me, mouth scorching and savage. Like if he drank enough of me, he could etch me into his bones.
He groaned, deep and guttural, practically gulping down my arousal like a sacrament or a holy tithe he wasn’t worthy of, but he’d burn in hell before he let it go to waste. Every muscle trembled from the sheer overwhelm of it all. Pleasure, pain, emotion, arousal. Then he unlatched and lapped at me like he was dying of thirst, like I was the only thing that could sustain him, like this was the last time he’d taste me.
“Fucking perfect,” he snarled against my pussy. “You taste fuckingdivine, baby. You’re so wet I canhearit.”
His tongue dragged through me again, this time flatter, rougher. He circled my clit, slow, teasing, deliberate.
“You feel that?” he rasped, nose nudging against me. “That’s devotion.” He nipped at one of my lips, and I jolted in response. “Christ, I love when you twitch like that. Your pussy clenches every time I use my teeth.”
“Please,”I panted. “Please, don’t stop.”
“I’m not fucking stopping until I feel you fall apart on my tongue one more time.” He growled, then sucked my clit into his mouth, hard enough to make my legs shake, and Iscreamed.
“Mine,” he grunted, sounding feral and out of control. “My perfect little submissive. Look at you. You’re fucking ruined for me, aren’t you?”
Callum gripped my ass and spread me wider, dove in deeper, licking and sucking like a man possessed. I was soaking the bedding, pulsing, clenching, on the very edge of coming?—
“Cal—”
“No,” he interrupted to land a palm across my ass. “Mon dominant.You know how much I fucking love when you speak in French.”
“Mon dominant,” I gasped.
I felt him grin against me as he fucked me with his mouth. Every lick, every flick, every suck dragged me closer to the edge. Tears streamed down my cheeks. Not from pain, but from the weight of being wanted this way.
“You’re gonna come again,” he said. “And you’re going to thank me for it. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I sobbed. “Yes, my Dom.”
“Good fucking girl.”
He didn’t stop. Two fingers pushed into me, thick and deep. He curled them just right, justonce, and my vision went white. My back arched, my bound arms pulled tight behind me, and my scream tore from my throat like it had claws. My whole body spasmed. The pressure snapped, and liquid heat spilled out of me in a sudden rush, soaking his hand, the carpet, the sheets, my thighs.
Mon Dieu, Igushedfor him. Shattered. Soaked. Undone.
“That’s it,” he rasped. “That’s my girl. Let it out. Show me what I do to you.” He kissed me between my legs, slow and soft,like he was sealing a blessing over my most vulnerable place and claiming the aftermath as much as the act.
I was his, and I always would be.
The world tilted. I couldn’t tell where I ended and the mattress began. My breath stuttered out in uneven gasps, every inhale rasping like I’d run a marathon I barely survived. My heart thundered in my chest, my ears, between my thighs. The blood rushing through me sounded like waves crashing against my skull.
I couldn’t move, didn’t even want to, but Ifelteverything. The wet stickiness running down my legs. The tremble in my arms. The pull on my shoulders. The leather of his belt biting into my wrists. The delicious ache between my legs where his fingers had just coaxed me into that mind-melting release.
