Chapter 14
Alistair
With work finished, I could finally focus on Callie and dinner. She’d been asleep for a little over four hours. Hilarious, really, considering how much energy she’d spent wearing that toy out last week. She could ride rubber on repeat, but give her the real thing, and suddenly she couldn’t keep up.
I picked up the washed thyme, ready to chop and toss into the sauce, when she padded into the kitchen wearing one of my T-shirts and a sour expression.
“Your clothes are in the dryer,” I said mildly, sliding the herbs onto the chopping board.
“Oh. Thanks.”
She pulled out a stool and sank onto it across from me, running her fingers along the edge of the marble island. “I like this island,” she said casually, tapping the smooth surface.
“Mmm. Thank you. We can test it out next,” I added with a wink.
She screeched, leapt off the stool, and ducked beneath the counter.
I raised a brow and leaned over the island until I spotted her crouched frame.
“Daisy’s in the kitchen,” she hissed, shooting me a glare. “And I am not fucking you where you had her.”
I gave it a moment. Fair point. Still wouldn’t stop me later.
I glanced toward the back—sure enough, two of her housemates were by the fridge. One giggling, one chewing. Blissfully unaware.
“Callie, why don’t you just tell them?”
“What! Tell them I’m shagging our landlord? Are you insane?”
I chuckled at her scandalised whisper, then lowered the blinds like it was no big deal.
“You can stand up now.”
She slowly resurfaced, then sat back down like a woman still planning her own funeral.
“Mmm. That smells nice,” she said, sniffing the air.
“What are you making?”
“Nothing special. Lamb chops and some vegetables,” I said, tossing in the herbs and giving the sauce another slow stir.
“I didn’t realise how hungry I am.”
“It won’t take long.”
I watched her over my shoulder as she shifted in my T-shirt.
My T-shirt.
No bra. No knickers. Legs still bare and thighs probably still sticky with the last load I bred into her.
She had no fucking clue what she was doing to me.
Dinner. Revision.
Then I was going to bend her over and fuck another nut into her.
Slow. Deep. Until she whimpered and begged me to stop—but she wouldn’t really want to.
She never did.
I wanted to watch it spill out of her. See it drip onto her thighs, onto my sheets, onto the fucking floor if it had to.
I wanted to fuck her so full, she leaked me for hours.
So full she’d feel it with every step she took.
Movie night? Not a chance.
She wouldn’t even make it to the front door once I was done with her.
She thought this was casual. A bit of fun.
But my come was a claim.
And tonight, I’d make damn sure her body didn’t forget it.
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I closed her book, snapping it shut with one hand.
“That’s enough advanced financial reporting for tonight.”
She looked up, shoulders sagging in relief.
“Ugh. I’m so stressed about these final exams—and I’m still working on my dissertation. Well, more like a research project, but still pretty intense,” she said, nibbling on her bottom lip. Her voice lowered. “Plus… my parents won’t approve of us.”
Her last words were barely above a whisper. But I heard them. Loud and clear.
“Don’t worry about them,” I said smoothly. “I’m good with people when I want to be.”
The tension bled from her body. She snorted. Then laughed—full and unguarded.
“You’re so funny when you want to be,” she giggled, tossing her pen down.
I pulled her into my lap like she belonged there—because she did.
My hands found her thighs, bare and smooth under the hem of my T-shirt. The material barely covered anything when she sat like this, straddling me. I could feel the warmth of her cunt through the thin barrier of my boxers.
“Is this what you meant by advanced revision?” she asked, wiggling slightly.
My cock throbbed against her, already half-hard, already hungry.
“No,” I said, sliding one hand under the fabric to grip her ass. “This is extra credit.”
She bit her lip. “What do I get if I pass?”
I leaned forward and kissed the edge of her jaw, then lower just beneath her ear where I knew she was sensitive. Her breath hitched.
“If you pass…” My other hand moved up her spine, slow and firm, until I tangled it in her hair. “You get to walk funny tomorrow.”
She laughed. It broke off into a moan when I rolled my hips just once—enough to let her feel the shape of me beneath her. Her thighs clenched around my hips.
“And if I fail?” she whispered, breath warm against my cheek.
“Then I’ll bend you over this couch and fuck the answers into you until you beg me for mercy.”
Her eyes fluttered.
Game over.
I took her glasses off. The blue oversized frame that once annoyed me now gave her that sexy student-or-librarian look I couldn’t get enough of. I placed them on the side.
Then I tugged her T-shirt off in one slow movement, exhaling at the sight of her breasts—soft, full, fucking perfect. My cock twitched hard beneath her, thickening by the second as her skin brushed against me.
I handed her the glasses like a gentleman.
“Such pretty little tits, Miss Shaw.”
She flushed but didn’t look away. Her hands went to my shoulders, nails pressing in lightly as she adjusted herself in my lap, grinding down with the barest hint of pressure.
Fuck.
I thrust up in response, lazy but firm. With controlled and deliberate movements. Her eyes widened and her breath hitched, but she didn’t stop me.
“Are you trying to distract me from revision?” she asked, a breathless tremble in her voice.
I grinned. “No, I’m giving you a reason to stay focused.”
She gasped when I moved again—slow and deep. The friction of her pussy against my boxers was sinfully good. Damp. Warm. She was already wet for me, soaking through the thin fabric. I could feel it.
“God,” she whimpered. “You’re such a menace.”
I grabbed a fistful of her ass and ground her down on me, harder this time. Her body jolted, head falling forward until her forehead touched mine.
“Keep talking, Callie,” I rasped. “Let’s see if you can still form words once I’m inside this sweet cunt.”
Her jaw dropped.
She didn’t even try to move.
And neither did I—because the longer I dry-humped her like this, the more desperate she became.
And I planned to take my time.
She whimpered as I palmed her ass, dragging her slowly against my length again, letting her feel just how hard I was—just how much I needed her. But I didn’t rush. I didn’t yank my shorts down or tear my boxers off her. No.
This was about discipline. Mine, not hers.
I reached behind my head and pulled my T-shirt off in one fluid motion, tossing it somewhere I didn’t care to look. Her fingers skimmed my chest, tentative, greedy. She looked like she was about to beg—and fuck, did I want her to. But not yet.
I brought her closer, letting her straddle my thighs while I kissed the side of her neck, slow and unhurried, right at that sweet spot below her ear.
“You like teasing me, don’t you?” I whispered against her skin.
She nodded, breath catching.
“That’s why you came out here in nothing but my T-shirt. No bra. Just dripping and ready for me.”
She made a soft, strangled sound when I kissed lower, dragging my mouth down the delicate column of her throat to her collarbone. I could feel her hips twitching, trying to roll forward. But I held her still with a firm grip around her waist.
“Please,” she whispered.
I ignored the plea, bringing my mouth to her breast instead, sucking her nipple slowly, tongue flicking over the tip until it pebbled under my attention. She gasped and arched into me, one hand fisting the back of my hair.
I smiled against her.
“You’re so sensitive,” I murmured, moving to the other breast, lavishing it the same way—long, deep pulls, until she was shaking. “Are you this desperate already, baby?”
She couldn’t answer. Her head dropped back as her hips began moving on their own, dragging her pussy against the thick ridge in my shorts. I let her this time. Let her grind. Let her make a mess.
Her moans were soft, breathy things—and they only made me harder.
I kept kissing her breasts, her ribs, then circled back to her throat. Her skin was flushed and damp now. Her eyes glazed.
“Alistair—” she whispered.
“I know,” I said, brushing my mouth against hers. “You’re close, aren’t you? Just from this.”
She nodded again, dazed. Desperate.
And still—I didn’t let her come.
Not yet.
Not until I was balls deep inside her sweet cunt.
“Stand up,” I said, watching her slide off me.
I knelt, tugging my white boxers down her thighs and inhaling her scent before rising to my feet.
“Kneel on the couch. Hands on the armrest.”
I’d never get tired of seeing her like this—arched for me, presenting like she knew exactly what I needed. Her back bowed, arse pushed out, pussy glistening. Every inch of her was an offering. Even the soft purple curls against her pale skin made me twitch.
I shoved my shorts down and stepped up behind her, my cock already heavy, throbbing.
This was mine. All of it. Her body, her sounds, her mind. One day, I’d marry her—not for romance, but to brand her. To make it clear to the world that she belonged to me. No other man would look at her the same again once she wore my ring. They’d know what she was.
My woman. My fuck toy. My future.
And if anyone dared to forget that, I’d remind them. Callie was going to carry my name, my child, and every filthy memory I carved into her body.
“You’re sleeping in my bed tonight, Callie. And you’ll fall asleep with my cock still inside you,” I murmured, letting it glide through her slick folds until she gasped.
“Are you malfunctioning?” she asked, her tone bratty, but her body desperate for me.
She wasn’t a brat at all, but I loved that she felt comfortable enough to push my buttons.
No fear. Just pure, smart-mouthed temptation in my home, dripping for me.
I pressed forward slowly, letting the head of my cock part her, savouring the way she twitched and arched, breath hitching on every inch.
“What were you saying?” I asked, pushing deeper.
She was hot, wet, and so deliciously tight that it knocked the breath from my lungs.
Every time I sank into her, it felt like coming home.
She didn't speak, but she moaned when I pulled back. Her slick coated my dick.
She was ready.
When I didn’t give her my cock, she glanced over her shoulder, eyes dark with impatience.
I slid my palms over her arse cheeks, up along her waist, skimming her ribs until I cupped her breasts—heavy and all mine.
“Beg for it,” I murmured, gently massaging the soft flesh until her swollen little buds began to harden again beneath my touch.
She knew what I wanted to hear.
“You’re so big—too big—but I want it. I want everything. Stretch me open. Ruin me again. Teach me what it means to be yours, sir,” she said, wincing as she arched her back and pushed her arse toward me—begging with her mouth, her body, her need.
I pushed my thumb into her slick hole, rotating it before dragging it up to her arsehole. An unexplored territory. I doubted the two fools that came before me touched her here.
Her body tensed but she said nothing.
I massaged the rough skin with the pad of my thumb, teasing and waiting.
“I’m yours, sir. Use me. All of me,” she cried.
I pushed my thumb into her slick hole, rotating it slowly before dragging it up to her arsehole—an unexplored territory. I doubted the two fools that came before me had ever touched her here.
Her body tensed, but she didn’t speak.
I pressed the pad of my thumb against the tight ring, massaging the rough skin—teasing, waiting.
“I’m yours, sir,” she cried out, breath hitching. “Use me. All of me.”
“You offering me all your holes, Callie? Do you want me to ruin you here too?” I asked, pushing harder until her tight ring began to give way.
I was already thinking of all the stretching her ass would need. The tools I’d use on her, and by the time she was pregnant, she’d be ready to take me.