Page 268 of Breeding Her: The Red Flag Edition
I reached for the lube, flicked the cap open, and let it drip onto her slowly—watching it glisten as it trailed down her skin. My fingers followed, spreading it across her entrance, then slicking it over my length with a deliberate stroke.
“Look at you,” I murmured, fisting myself once, slow and tight. “Already trembling, and I haven’t even given you what you’re begging for.”
She whimpered, pressing her cheek into the mattress, offering herself up with a soft arch of her spine that nearly undid me.
I leaned over her, lining myself up and letting the head of my cock brush over her—just enough for her to feel it. Just enough to drive her mad.
“I’m going to fill you so slowly,” I rasped, lips brushing her ear. “You’ll feel every inch, every pulse—until you don’t know where I end and you begin.”
Her breath hitched. Her thighs trembled.
And then, with one hand on her waist and the other guiding me in, I began to push forward—inch by inch—letting her take me, stretch around me, until I was buried deep.
“Good girl,” I growled. “Now stay still while I show you what it means to belong to me.”
Her breath hitched the moment I pushed in deeper, my hand firm on her waist, guiding the rhythm like a slow, deliberate waltz. Every inch was a promise. Every retreat, a tease. I leaned in, my chest brushing her back, lips trailing over her shoulder.
“You feel that?” I whispered against her skin, voice low and thick. “How perfectly you take me… like you were made for this.”
She moaned—soft, needy—her hips shifting for more. But I didn’t give in. Not yet. I pulled back, letting just the tip remain inside, then pressed in again, slower this time, savouring every flicker of her response.
“You’re so sensitive tonight,” I murmured, brushing her hair aside to kiss the nape of her neck. “You take my cock so well in this tight little arsehole. I own every inch of you, my little toy.”
She whimpered my name, clutching the sheets, her body caught between tension and surrender.
I dragged my hand up from her waist to her chest, cupping one soft breast and letting my thumb brush across her nipple. Her gasp hit the air like music, and I kissed her shoulder again, slower now—luxuriating in every sound, every tremor.
“Please,” she whispered. It came out hoarse, like her throat had already been worked raw from earlier.
I placed my hand on the back of her neck, standing upright before pulling back to leave the tip inside her arse.
And waited.
“Silas… I can’t take it.”
She buried her face in the bed, her voice muffled now.
“I need you. Please—don’t tease. Don’t make me wait.”
Each word came out more desperate than the last, like the ache inside her was swallowing every last shred of control.
“Keep that hole open for me,” I rasped, and drove forward until my balls smacked her cheeks.
“Yeah. Just like that.”
Her cry tore through the room as she clenched around me.
“This is what you wanted,” I growled, hammering into her with deep, punishing thrusts.
A sound escaped her—half gasp, half moan—as her fingers twisted in the sheets.
Whenever I felt her tighten around me and saw her eyes flutter shut, I slowed my pace—just enough to keep her teetering. Holding her there. Making her beg. I kept her on edge, teasing us both, until the need became too much and I drove into her again, harder.
Her arsehole was soft and open for me, taking every inch like she was made for it. She held her position, obedient and desperate—my wife, my toy, my good girl.
Utterly ruined.
When she came, her scream ripped through the room, and I gripped her hips to keep her steady as I kept moving inside her, chasing the high she dragged out of me. Her whole body shook with release.
