“Now tell me to breed you,” he breathed in my ear.
My mind screamedno. My body whisperedplease.
Four days. That’s how long it took for reason to erode, for every line I’d drawn to blur. And now, on the flight back to London, there was nothing left between us but the truth I’d tried to deny.
I wanted him.
“Please breed me, Laurent,” I whispered, my voice trembling.
His eyes darkened, his gaze pinning me in place. I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to. His jaw flexed, muscle tight beneath the dark beard that did nothing to hide his need.
For a long moment, he didn’t move. The air between us tightened, heavy with everything that hadn’t been said. Then his breath left him in a rough exhale, and I saw it—the crack in his composure, the hunger he’d been fighting from the start.
It made me wonder who was really in control.
I spread my fingers on the marble counter, bracing myself, and stared at him.
“Fill me up, use me. Fuck me so hard with that cock until I feel nothing but you. Let me feel you leak out of me until we reach London.”
His eyes widened, his breath catching at the back of his throat. I stared, fascinated by how a few words could trigger him. Then his lips slowly tugged to one side, and a dangerous gleam flickered in his eyes.
That was the moment I knew.
I’d fucked up.
His hands released my breasts to stand upright. I heard him unbuckle his belt. His movements were unhurried. My mouth went dry at the slow, deliberate rasp of the zipper. A few seconds later, he hauled my hips back before peeling my wet thongs out of his path. He pinned them to my hip. His other hand moved to take a handful of my hair, lifting me until my back arched.
“You’ll come to my office at 7 am sharp every morning to take your load. When you finish work, Garrett will drop you off at my house. I’ll arrange for you to finish early each day. Understood?” he said, teasing me with his cock.
“Yes, sir.”
He guided himself into me until the head of his cock spread me open. I hissed, trying to wiggle, but he held me steady.
He thrust inside me brutally, shoving through all my tight tissue until I cried out his name.
“Fuck, yeah. Nice and tight,” he hissed, punctuating his words with short, sharp thrusts of his hips, causing him to bottom out inside of me.
His hands gripped my throat, and I clenched around his thick cock, panting. The position arched my spine as he drove into me over and over again, setting a harsh, punishing rhythm.
“Oh God,” I howled, uncaring if anyone could hear me.
His eyes stayed on me as if he were possessed—burning, alive, threaded with a hint of madness. His fingers tightened, and pleasure unfurled low in my stomach, overpowering the pain.
I gasped for air, pulling on his wrist.
“Are you going to come on my cock, whore?” he asked, thrusting harder as he fucked me relentlessly.
My pussy began to flutter, and he chuckled.
“I can feel you trying to suck me in, trap me in your tight little cunt,” he rasped, and my eyes rolled back.
I spluttered as I came long and hard. Every muscle in my body locked as I milked his cock. His fingers loosened, and I could breathe again. He released a long guttural moan, and I felt his come gush out of him. It splashed my insides, catching the last of my contractions.
I collapsed against the counter.
I wanted to blame him for being a psycho dickhead, but deep down, I couldn’t deny how much I loved driving him deeper into madness.
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