Page 193 of Breeding Her: The Red Flag Edition
“Play with your pussy, baby,” he growled, voice like gravel dragging over heat.
“I’m going to fuck that attitude right out of you.”
That was the only warning I got.
The first thrust knocked the air from my lungs.
The second made my knees slide forward.
By the third, I was gripping the sheets like they might save me.
Slaps echoed. Skin on skin. Wet. Merciless. My breath caught with every punishing drive of his hips. He wasn’t just fucking me—he was rearranging my goddamn soul.
“You wanted to brat?” he hissed behind me.
Another brutal snap of his hips.
“Take your punishment, Callie. Take it like the greedy little hole you are.”
I moaned—helpless, ruined, delirious.
And still begged for more.
Every thrust was deeper, harder—and fucking glorious. I shoved my hand beneath me, fingers slipping into my pussy while my palm rubbed tight circles over my clit.
He grabbed my ass, hauling me up and down his cock like I weighed nothing. The nasty, wet squelch of our bodies filled the room, each sound making me clench tighter. My thighs trembled as he slammed into me, again and again, shoving my face deeper into the pillows.
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.
And then it hit me.
Release tore through me like lightning. I screamed into the pillows, lightheaded and shaking. My whole body jerked while he roared behind me, hips still snapping forward like he could fuck himself deeper.
I felt him everywhere—inside me, wrapped around me—and when he came, I knew it.
He owned me.
?? ?? ??
When I came to, I was still twitching. My face was half-buried in a damp pillow, hair plastered to my cheek. Every part of me ached, and my thighs had given up somewhere mid-orgasm.
Alistair was still inside me.
Still hard. Still holding my hips like he could weld us together.
“Welcome back,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the base of my neck.
“You passed,” he added, voice smug. “Top of the class.”
I groaned something unintelligible. Maybe praise. Maybe a prayer.
Either way, I was definitely seeing stars.
He handed me my glasses.
“Thanks,” I croaked, voice shredded.
I barely got them on before he started talking again. I missed his grumpy silence at times.
