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.
“Play with your pussy, baby,” he growled, voice like gravel dragging over heat.
“I’m going to fuck that attitude right out of you.”
That was the only warning I got.
The first thrust knocked the air from my lungs.
The second made my knees slide forward.
By the third, I was gripping the sheets like they might save me.
Slaps echoed. Skin on skin. Wet. Merciless. My breath caught with every punishing drive of his hips. He wasn’t just fucking me—he was rearranging my goddamn soul.
“You wanted to brat?” he hissed behind me.
Another brutal snap of his hips.
“Take your punishment, Callie. Take it like the greedy little hole you are.”
I moaned—helpless, ruined, delirious.
And still begged for more.
Every thrust was deeper, harder—and fucking glorious. I shoved my hand beneath me, fingers slipping into my pussy while my palm rubbed tight circles over my clit.
He grabbed my ass, hauling me up and down his cock like I weighed nothing. The nasty, wet squelch of our bodies filled the room, each sound making me clench tighter. My thighs trembled as he slammed into me, again and again, shoving my face deeper into the pillows.
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.
And then it hit me.
Release tore through me like lightning. I screamed into the pillows, lightheaded and shaking. My whole body jerked while he roared behind me, hips still snapping forward like he could fuck himself deeper.
I felt him everywhere—inside me, wrapped around me—and when he came, I knew it.
He owned me.
?? ?? ??
When I came to, I was still twitching. My face was half-buried in a damp pillow, hair plastered to my cheek. Every part of me ached, and my thighs had given up somewhere mid-orgasm.
Alistair was still inside me.
Still hard. Still holding my hips like he could weld us together.
“Welcome back,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the base of my neck.
“You passed,” he added, voice smug. “Top of the class.”
I groaned something unintelligible. Maybe praise. Maybe a prayer.
Either way, I was definitely seeing stars.
He handed me my glasses.
“Thanks,” I croaked, voice shredded.
I barely got them on before he started talking again. I missed his grumpy silence at times.
“Callie Shaw, no woman has ever passed my cock tests. You’re the first. And the last—”
Oh God. What was he saying?
“—Will you do the honour of marrying me and my cock?”
I blinked.
Then blinked again, because the sparkle from the diamond nearly took my eye out. The ring was nestled in black velvet like it was innocent. It wasn’t. It was huge. The size of a small moon.
How did he expect me to carry that around every day?
Then again… how did he carry that dick around?
No wonder he worked from home. He could probably frame it as a disability.
“Callie?” he asked, voice suddenly uncertain.
I looked back at him—and my heart cracked open.
He looked freaked out. Like I was about to say no.
The father of my child. The monster-dicked freak of nature.
The fucking love of my life.
My lips began to tremble, and I sniffed a few times, but it didn’t help. My vision blurred. Tears rolled.
“Oh, shit. Callie? Are you hurt? Baby?”
He started muttering something about dicking me too hard, and I snort-laughed through the tears.
“Yes!” I cried. “I’ll marry you!”
“Oh, thank fuck. Kidnapping you and smuggling you out of the country would have been problematic,” he said, twisting my face to kiss me.
My mouth opened for him automatically—his tongue claiming mine before my brain caught up.
Did he just say—
Kidnapping me?
He pulled back, only slightly, his breath brushing my lips.
“What?” he asked innocently. “You think I wasn’t planning contingencies? Baby, I had aliases picked out for us and a flight to Buenos Aires on standby.”
My jaw dropped.
“You’re insane.”
He grinned, utterly unbothered.
“I’m in love.”
The fact that I didn’t know whether he was joking should have been a red flag. But I was tired of always being good. Tired of never taking risks. Tired of studying for a career that I never wanted.
He loved me, and that's all that mattered to me right now.
?? ?? ??
“It’s time. I could do this,” I said—for the ninth time.
“You’ve got this,” Alistair said with a tight smile.
I couldn’t blame him. We’d been sitting in the car for almost twenty minutes.
I glanced down at the ring. I could do this.
“Right. I’m doing it,” I said, yanking the door handle.
“Thank God,” he muttered.
“Hey, I heard that,” I shot back, shutting the door behind me.
I made it halfway up the garden path before I froze.
They were all lined up in the front room.
For fuck’s sake.
Belle had Dottie in her arms, stroking him like a villain.
They must’ve seen us parked outside.
That one was on me.
This was why I hated confrontation or conflict. I was utterly inept at handling these situations. It was easier to smile and repress all that frustration—deep, deep down—hiding it away like the butter and toilet paper.
I opened the door, and chaos erupted.
They all started talking over one another.
Dottie leapt from Belle’s arms and darted upstairs—I wished I could follow him.
I raised my hand and wiggled my fingers.
“Is she—?”
“Holy fuck.”
“Look at the size of that thing.”
“She’s fucking the landlord.”
“If she marries the landlord, does that make her our landlord too?”
“She might give us a discount.”
“I can’t believe you got to him first.”
I turned and glared at Melissa.
Everyone else stared at her too.
“What?” she said, shrugging. “I was just being honest.”
And just like that, we all hugged.
When the questions started flying, I put the kettle on and told them everything—how it started as a hook-up, how it spiralled into something more. I skipped only one detail: Alistair’s dick size. Even an exorcism wouldn’t keep Melissa away from him if she ever found out.
Two hours later, I was back at Alistair’s place.
The weight had lifted.
Now there were only my parents left.