Page 73 of Red Flagged
Fuck. I whimpered.Audibly. She smiled, wicked and devastating, because she knew exactly what she was doing. Weaponizing every inch of her body, every note of her voice, every piece of me that belonged to her and only her.
“No worshipping my pussy. No kissing my thighs until I’m shaking. No tying me up and watching me beg. Les mauvais garçons doivent apprendre à attendre.”
Bad boys have to learn to wait.
My cock throbbed. My blood burned with desire and restraint.
“No telling me I’m your good girl,” she added, her voice slipping into something syrup-slick and cruel. “No burying your face between my legs until you’re dripping with it. No tasting me until I scream your name so loud the neighbors complain.”
My knees buckled.
“And youlovewhen I scream for you, don’t you, mon amour?”
I groaned. “Auri?—”
“You want those privileges back?” she asked, tilting her head. “Then start acting like the man who earned me. Considère ça ta punition.”Consider this your punishment.
Her French was so sharp, so final. It was the cruelest kind of mercy—denial delivered in the language she used when she unraveled. When she moaned. When she prayed to me in bed. And now, she was using it to punish me.
Rain lashed down harder, soaking us through until even my bones felt cold. I was shivering, but not from the wind. It was her. Her voice. Her body. Her rage. Her love.
And then she kissed me. It was hard and brutal and possessive and everything we were at our core. A clap of thunder cracked overhead like a war drum, echoing off the mountain as her teeth scraped my bottom lip. It felt symbolic, like she was branding me with her fury, marking my mouth with the same fire I’d ignited in her and failed to contain.
Aurélie pulled back just barely, our lips still brushing. I exhaled when she inhaled. We were the same broken storm breathing in sync.
“I hate that I love you so goddamn much,” she whispered, a sob catching in her throat. “Because I would doanythingfor you.”
Her voice cracked, andGod, it tore my heartstrings straight out of my chest. Her lashes clumped together, eyes soaked, makeup smudged all over her cheeks. The wild, furious goddess in front of me was shattered, mascara-stained and shaking, fists still tangled in my shirt like I was the only thing keeping her upright.
“I let you wreck me,” she choked out, “and I still come back for more.” Her eyes squeezed shut, and fresh tears spilled downher cheeks. Her shoulders trembled as the sob escaped. It was raw, helpless, the kind of sound that left a scar.
“And I need to know,” she pleaded, louder now, more broken, “that you mean it. That you meant every word you said in that car. Because if you didn’t…” Her voice dropped to a whisper so quiet I could barely hear her over the sound of the rain. “I can’t handle it if you didn’t.”
That was it. That fucking ripped me open.
I cupped her face—both hands, firm and shaking and reverent—because she was still trembling, crying, trying to stay standing when all I wanted was to fall to my knees and beg.
“I’ve never meant anything more,” I rasped. “Aurélie. Camille. Dubois.”
Her eyes fluttered shut. My thumbs swiped under her lashes, collecting every tear like they were sacred.
“I’m going to fuck up,” I breathed. “Because that’s what I am. One big fuck up in a nice suit with a fast car.”
She gave a short, tear-wet laugh that made me want to die.
“But I need you to stay,” I said, forehead pressed to hers, desperate now. “Stay by my side when I do. I’ll always make up for it. I’ll learn. I’ll listen. I’ll bleed for you, mon amour.”
Her fingers gripped my wrists.
“I promise,” I whispered into the night, into the space between us, into every mistake I hadn’t yet made. “I promise. I promise. I’m so sorry.”
She didn’t say anything right away. We swayed together, shivering in the downpour, illuminated only by the car’s headlights and random flashes of lightning. We breathed each other in for a minute, gazes locking.
And then Aurélie kissed me again. Harder. Faster. Messier. We collapsed into it like we were drowning and this was our last breath.
But I couldn’t melt into it. Not yet.
Because everything she’d said still echoed in my skull—loud and ugly and fuckingtrue.
