“You ready, baby?” I asked, voice hoarse with restraint.
“Yes,” she said so fast I laughed under my breath.
I slowly pulled my fingers free and watched her ass flutter at the loss. She was trembling now, her whole body a beautiful mess of need. I slicked myself up with more of the lube, pumped it from the bottle and coated my cock, hissing at the feel of it.My tip nudged against her stretched entrance, already twitching with anticipation.
She gasped, her breath catching, and I felt her flinch—not from fear, but from the intensity of the moment.
I gripped her hips and leaned forward to kiss her spine.
“You’ve got this, sweetheart,” I murmured. “You were made for me.”
And then I began to press in, watching her asshole yield to me while she cried out my name.
This was possession.
Not taking, but giving.
“My sweet, Callie. My beautiful little arse slut,” I groaned as she sucked me in.
She fucking owned me.
Chapter 19
Callie
The pain made me hiss when he pushed deeper. I clenched without meaning to, but then I remembered to breathe—slow, deep breaths—and let my body relax. I shifted onto my elbows, seeking relief, and his hands moved from my hips to rub slow, soothing circles into my back.
“Good girl. Keep that hole open for me, baby,” he murmured, voice low and warm.
The softness of his praise grounded me. I exhaled again and let go of the tension, welcoming the stretch instead of fighting it. This was why he’d taken his time. Why he’d been so generous with the lube. I was grateful. But of course he would. That was Alistair.
His hands slid beneath me, cupping my breasts as he pulled me upright to kneel for him. I gasped when he nudged deeper, the new angle pushing me closer to the edge.
“You’re mine now, baby. Every single inch,” he growled, squeezing my breasts until his fingers bit into my skin. “And these—” he gave another possessive squeeze, “—these beauties will nourish our child soon.”
“Yes,” I moaned, pushing back into him, offering everything.
“Fuck, Callie. Your ass feels so good,” he hissed, one hand smoothing over the swell of my belly before sliding between my legs.
His fingers slipped through the flood pooling there—slick, shameless, and messy as sin. The obscene squelch that followed made my face burn.
“How’s it feel, baby? Your first ass fuck.”
He thrust his hips forward just enough to bump something deep and aching inside me.
“Alistair,” I snapped, gasping when his fingers grazed my clit, light and maddening.
He was too deep. Too everywhere. My skin buzzed, overstimulated and taut.
He chuckled, mouth brushing my shoulder.
“There’s my little brat. That’s the attitude I love.”
My thighs were slick, my pulse a staccato rhythm between my legs. I tried to stay upright, but my body trembled with every teasing swirl of his fingers. The pressure in my spine, the fullness behind me—it was too much, too good.
He suddenly shoved my face into the pillows. No warning. Just a firm hand and brute force.
His palms gripped my hips, possessive and steady.
