Chapter 13
Callie
This was like my personal striptease. The kind of thing women paid for—on stage, in private booths—if they were lucky. And here I was getting it for free.
Actually, scratch that.
He was technically paying me by waiving my rent.
He fisted his cock again, sliding his hand from root to tip until a single, clear droplet formed on the head.
It clung there. Heavy. Tempting.
“Sir,” I whispered, unable to look away from the one-eyed beast.
I was tired and sore, but like a masochist, I needed it.
“You gonna take my come again? Take it in your fertile young pussy hole? Take it raw?” he asked, tightening his grip on my thigh as he used his girth to tease my pussy.
“Yes, sir. Give it to me,” I panted, trying to raise my hips.
He pressed the wet head down until I felt him at my entrance. Parting me open for him.
“Say it.”
“Breed me, Alistair,” I said hoarsely.
Deep down, I knew that I’d regret my words, but right now I needed him so badly that it didn't matter.
“Fill me up. Empty your balls inside me. Fuck me—”
I never got to finish.
“Fuck,” he said and pushed his cock inside me.
I gasped, leaning up to grip his arms.
“Yes,” I cried, feeling him spread me open. “Aah, yes. So good.”
I felt every ripple, every vein as the blunt tip forced its way inside. I was tender, it hurt, and I loved it.
When he pulled back only to slide back in, I clenched around him, trying to keep him inside of me.
“No. Keep it open for me,” he murmured, kissing my cheek before he lowered his head, and his mouth covered my nipple.
I wrapped my arms around his waist, clinging to him as he began to fuck me with deep strokes.
Each time he slammed into me, I felt him deep in my belly. He sucked on my flesh, moving from one breast to the other, teasing me until I leaked all over his cock.
“That's my good girl. Take every inch. No one's ever taken my dick the way you can, baby,” he said, kissing his way up my chest. “And no one ever will.”
His beard scraped along my neck and jaw until his lips found mine. He pressed his weight on my hips, fucking me faster while pillaging my mouth.
Pinned down, spread open and fucked so deep that I couldn't breathe, but I loved it. Every inch. Every second.
I moaned into his mouth, pushing my tongue against his in a silent battle.
He growled, thrusting his tongue in time with each savage downward slap of his hips, hitting something deep in my belly. His back grew damp, and he lifted his head, grunting while he stared at me.
“Mine. My tight little cunt. My good girl,” he snarled.
My lips were wet and bruised, but I nodded, unable to speak.
He changed his pace, slow and deep, grinding against me as if he wanted to live inside of me.
“My sexy little come whore. You love it. You love being fucked by my monster dick.”
My pussy began to flutter, and I dug my nails into him.
“Open and ready for your landlord to fuck his baby into you. Filthy slut,” he said, slamming into me with brute strength.
My back arched, pressing myself up as the rapid pleasure burst inside of me. A strangled cry left my throat as my muscles clamped down on him. The blinding pleasure was off the scales, my eyes rolled back, and I succumbed to the bliss.
He began to move again, rapid pumps of his hips which extended my pleasure.
I slid my hands up his back, uncaring of the sweat, to grip his nape.
The muscles bunched up as he roared. His cock pulsated inside of me.
Hot come splashed inside, I hooked my legs around him, before I closed my eyes, just for a few moments.
The last thing I heard was him sighing my name.
It shouldn't have meant anything, but the reverence made me cling to him a little tighter.
?? ?? ??
I woke up in total darkness, disoriented and confused.
For a second, I had no idea where I was. The sheets were unfamiliar—cool and smooth—and the smell was unmistakably Alistair. Masculine, clean and sinfully comforting.
I blinked a few times. Still nothing.
The curtains must’ve been drawn tight, because the entire room felt swallowed in black.
My fingers instinctively rose to my face—no glasses.
I reached out blindly, patting both sides of the bed until my knuckles knocked into a nightstand. Fumbling, I found the familiar weight of my glasses and slipped them on.
That’s when it hit me.
Shit.
Revision. Movie night. The girls.
The last thing I needed was for them to find out I’d spent the afternoon getting railed by our landlord.
I groaned, stretching out on the mattress, spine cracking slightly as I shifted. My thighs rubbed together—and that slick reminder made me wince.
Alistair Graves.
Potty-mouthed sex god.
This was all his fault.
Okay, maybe not all his fault. But most of it. Definitely the leg-shaking, spine-tingling, brain-scrambling parts. With a sigh, I peeled the covers off and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, wincing slightly as I moved.
Accountability wasn’t something I’d ever had to take seriously before—not like this. Not when it involved sneaking out of my landlord’s house after being railed into another dimension. I stood, stretched, and padded over to the curtain, blinking as I tugged it open.
The sun was still out, but lower now, warm and golden as it hovered just above the rooftops. I could still make movie night, I told myself. I just had to move fast—and ideally without limping.
I glanced around the room.
My clothes were gone.
What the—?
I sat up and immediately regretted it. Every muscle in my lower half felt like it had been scooped out and replaced with jelly.
No bra. No knickers. No sense of dignity left.
“Great,” I muttered, flopping back against the pillows. “He’s turned me into one of those girls.”