Page 172 of Breeding Her: The Red Flag Edition
My bra slipped down my arms and landed on the floor.
He stepped back to examine me.
I almost lifted my hands to cover myself—until he spoke.
“You’re beautiful, Callie.”
I grinned.
“A beautiful brat. Bedroom. Now.”
“God, you’re so bossy,” I muttered as he took my hand.
“I heard that, and it's detention for you.”
“I've never had detention in my life,” I said, giggling at the way he mimicked a teacher.
He was rather good at it.
?? ?? ??
My head slipped off my hand, and I jolted awake. The class was still in session. I glanced around, but no one had noticed that I’d nodded off.
Alistair Graves was thorough with his lesson plan.
After being almost dicked to death, I’d snuck back to mine at two a.m. when all the lights were out. I checked my phone and saw part of his message.
The image of his cock flashed through my mind.
His dick wasn’t normal. It was so thick I couldn’t get my fingers around it without choking it, and it was so long I was sure he’d done permanent damage to my cervix. I’d felt the bulge through my belly.
But if I was being honest, I didn’t want to go back to a normal-sized dick.
I tapped on his message.
Alistair:Finish class and come home.
I knew his game. He wouldn’t win.
Me:I can’t. I need to sleep, revise, and it’s movie night with the girls.
Alistair:I don’t care if it’s for ten minutes. Come over. You said anything, remember?
He was dangerously addictive.
The first man who didn’t wear a condom.
The first man to make me come.
The first to go down on me.
Or do that thing with his fingers.
I was playing Russian roulette with my womb.
Me:Ten minutes. ONLY.
The dick was too good, even though Alistair was a walking, talking red flag.
