Page 41 of Breeding Her: The Red Flag Edition
“God, you’re soaked,” he muttered, almost to himself, like he’d forgotten I was listening. “This pussy’s greedy for me. Missed me, didn’t you?”
He circled my clit with maddening precision—not fast, not slow, just enough to make me twitch. My legs trembled, my hands curling into the sheets, but he never gave me more than that infuriating tease.
“Say it,” he whispered, his breath ghosting over my skin. “Say you missed me inside you.”
I clenched my jaw. Refused.
He hummed, then dipped his finger inside me, knuckle-deep, curling it just so.
My mouth fell open in a silent cry.
“That’s what I thought,” he said, adding a second finger. “Body’s more honest than your mouth, little mama.”
His rhythm was slow—deliberate. Every curl of his fingers hit that devastating spot inside me while his thumb rolled soft, lazy circles over my clit. I felt my thighs start to shake, my stomach fluttering with the kind of pressure that made my toes curl.
“Kade,” I gasped, reaching for his arm.
His hand stilled.
“No,” he said, eyes locked on mine. “Not until you ask nicely.”
My legs trembled, hips twitching beneath his hand as he kept me right on the edge—cruel and smug and perfectly in control. His fingers curled again, a devastating little twist that had my vision white at the edges.
“Please,” I whispered.
“Not good enough,” he murmured, lips grazing my inner thigh. “You want to come, sweetheart, you’re gonna have to beg like you mean it.”
I sucked in a breath and pressed my head back against the pillows, pride warring with need.
“Kade—”
He pulled his fingers out. Completely.
“No—no!” My hands scrambled for him, helpless and desperate. “Please, I’m sorry, I—”
He raised a brow. Waiting.
I bit my lip, eyes burning. But the need was stronger than the shame now.
“Please, Kade,” I breathed. “I need to come… I need you to make me come. I’ll be good, I promise. Just—please. I need your fingers, your cock, anything—I’ll take anything you give me, just don’t stop. Please.”
That earned a wicked grin.
“Good girl.”
He slid back into me—two fingers, deep and sure. His thumb found my clit again, but this time there was no teasing. Just purpose. Power. Precision.
I moaned when he pulled away again.
But he was pushing his boxers down and it was the first time I saw him. It made me understand how I got pregnant. My womb never stood a chance.
He slapped the heavy weight of his cock against my pussy. The sound—wet and obscene—sent a shiver through me. My feet slipped at the edge of the mattress, but I held my legs open, thighs trembling under the strain.
“My greedy little pussy,” he mused, watching me. “You hold that position.”
I nodded, breath caught in my throat.
Then I felt him—his cockhead sliding along my opening. Once.
