Chapter 82 Aurélie #2
The thought alone made me drip, and from the way he was looking at me, he knew it.
“Let me show you what happens when you call me a slut—or a whore—mon amour.”
Mon amour.
He couldn’t call me that and not expect my heart to give itself to him.
With one hand, he tugged his shorts down, still damp where he’d come earlier, and his thick, heavy cock sprang free. The tip was red and glistening with pre-cum, and the piercing was practically calling my name.
I salivated in anticipation of tasting him on my tongue, feeling him claim me, having him fuck my mouth and use me to get off. I braced my hands on his thighs as he shoved my head down.
“Tongue out,” he ordered, voice tight with restraint. I obeyed instantly, tongue flicking out to tease the tip—just once. A sharp hiss cut through the air. “Fuck, you’re such a tease. But not tonight. Tonight, you’re going to take every inch and thank me for it.”
He didn’t give me time to answer. He pushed into my mouth slowly, watching me the whole time, and I relaxed my jaw as best I could, but holy fuck, he was huge. I gagged on the second thrust, and he growled, the sound vibrating in his chest.
“Just like that,” he rasped. “God, I love how your throat tightens when you gag on it. You were fucking made for this.”
My eyes watered as I tried to adjust, trying my best to breathe through my nose.
My hands scrambled for purchase, grabbing his hips while he slowly started to move in and out of my mouth.
My fingers curled into him, nails digging into his skin as inch by inch, he fed himself into me until my nose brushed the base of him, the piercing bumping the back of my throat.
I moaned. Callum twitched, then pulled back just enough to let me breathe. He slammed back in again, one hand gripping my ponytail like reins. “Look at that. On your knees, slobbering all over me, like a filthy little cockslut. Is this what you wanted when you called me a whore? Huh?”
I could only choke around him in reply. My mascara was probably smeared, tears pooling in my lashes as spit dripped down my chin and onto the floor. The sounds coming from us—my heavy breathing and garbled moans and his groans—were absolutely filthy.
“You’re fucking gorgeous like this.” His other hand slid down my spine, rough and hot, making me arch instinctively. “Jesus, I wish you could see yourself like this, face down, ass up. Love seeing that pretty thing while you worship my cock.”
I adjusted my position, without thinking, to please him, arching until my ass was high in the air like a perfect offering.
“Fuck me,” he groaned. “You’re unreal.” His hand slipped over the curve of my ass, pushing my shorts down to mid-thigh, baring me completely.
The gym air hit my bare, soaked pussy, and I whimpered around his length.
He didn’t pull out, just kept holding me there, deep in my throat, while his fingers explored my bare skin.
Then he paused, a reverent whimper escaping him.
“That tattoo…” His hand trailed over the ink at the small of my back.
“‘Fait au paradis.’ Made in heaven. Is that what you really think, baby?” He withdrew from my mouth with a wet pop.
I gasped for air, chest heaving, drool stringing from my lips to his cock.
He leaned forward from where he sat, legs shifting and widening. I was kneeling between them, bent low, ass in the air, hands clawing at the hard muscle of his thighs like I could mark him too. We were a mess of sweat and desperation. I never wanted it to end.
Here, in this moment, I wasn’t a woman. I was devotion incarnate, my body exposed like the offering it was, all his to take.
And I was a sinner on my knees at his altar, desperate for communion.
Mouth full, soul stripped bare, I was drunk on the taste of him, high on the way he said my name reverently.
He was the first to make this feel like a prayer, like if I begged hard enough, I might be saved.
Worship wasn’t the word. This was ruin. This was sacrilege.
If wanting him like this made me wicked, I’d gladly burn for the privilege of being used, adored, and damned in the same breath, worshipped like a saint and fucked like a sinner.
I’d let him destroy my body and rewrite my soul until there was nothing left untouched by him, nothing left to be redeemed.
“Non, mon amour,” Callum said, voice guttural and filthy as he reached forward, chest brushing my back. “Tu étais faite au paradis pour moi.” You were made in heaven for me.
I whimpered, thighs trembling as he spread my cheeks apart, before he shoved me back down onto his cock. Then his hand slipped around, down, under, fingers gliding between my thighs from the front to collect the dripping mess I’d made.
“Jesus, Auri, you’re soaked,” he said with a groan. “Sucking my cock like you need it, melting like your greedy little pussy can’t wait its turn.”
I tried to respond, but he shoved my head back down, sliding deep in my throat with a needy grunt. His piercing—fuck, it was bruising me in the best way. I’d feel him there long after we were done.
“Take it,” he bit out between gritted teeth.
“Take every inch.” With one hand gripping my hair and the other stroking me, he was all primal dominance, and I was his willing submissive.
He lifted his lips, using his heels as leverage as he thrust over and over again.
His thighs flexed with the effort. I let him use me the way he needed.
“Look at this ass,” he muttered, more to himself than me.
“Perfectly fucking heart-shaped. It’s art.
Your whole body is fucking art. I want it burned into my memory forever.
” And then—God help me—his fingers slid between my folds, dripping wet and ready.
I bobbed my head up and down on his cock, spit coating him and dribbling down my chin, my tongue swirling around the thick ridge near the tip.
The veins on his shaft throbbed against my tongue as he twitched, already close, already too far gone to pretend otherwise.
He didn’t stop there. He guided me, controlled my pace with the hand tangled in my hair, while the other circled my clit with practiced precision—teasing, coaxing, punishing in the best way.
We could get caught at any moment. Anyone could walk in here and see us in the most compromising positions possible, but neither of us cared.
We never did. We got off on exhibitionism, the forbidden aspect of it all, the fact that we really shouldn’t be doing this, but we were meant for each other, meant for this, and nothing—no one—could stop us.
Callum let go of my hair. I hollowed my cheeks to suck harder.
“Still so wet,” he rasped. “Fucking dripping. That from sucking me off or from me praising your slutty little tattoo?” I shook, helpless and panting, whimpering in response, unable to speak with my mouth stuffed full of him.
My eyes watered, my jaw ached, but I didn’t stop, not when he was wrecking me from both ends.
He dragged his fingers through my folds once more, gathering my arousal before he pulled away.
I almost cried before I felt his hand skating down the small of my back to the curve of my ass, then between my cheeks, until they teased the tight rim of muscle.
His other hand cupped one cheek, squeezing, admiring, spreading me open.
“Fuck, baby,” he rasped. “Seeing you like this in the mirror…” He didn’t finish the sentence. Just groaned. Carnal, awed, broken. Like language failed him and only need remained.
“Callum—” I managed to gasp around his cock, my voice a garbled sob as I nearly choked.
He chuckled darkly, low and dangerous, then kissed the dip of my spine, right on the tattoo. “Let me play. Let me feel how far I can stretch my girl.” My girl. Fuck me. Then, he added, “As for you? Keep my cock in that pretty little mouth, Auri. Show me what that tongue can do.”
I obeyed, whining as I took him back in, just as he pressed a single wet finger to my ass. The pressure made my thighs shake, my body clenching as he circled slowly, teasing me open.
“Relax,” he breathed gently, like a lover would, then slid inside. “Fuuuuck, you’re so good for me, baby.”
God, the way I would beg every day for the rest of my life to be told I was still his good girl.
My hips jerked. I moaned around his cock, the sensation of fullness sending fire across my nerves.
But then—goddamn it—his other hand returned to my pussy, fingers curling inside me while the one in my ass slowly worked deeper.
The combination was brutal and intoxicating.
I convulsed, moaning so hard I gagged on his cock.
“That’s it,” he growled. “Fucking take it. Let me ruin you.”
The tension building in my core reached a fever pitch.
Pleasure and pressure overlapped until I didn’t know where one ended and the other began.
I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The pressure in both holes sent me careening toward the edge until I shattered around his fingers with a scream muffled by the cock in my throat.
I came hard, body jerking uncontrollably, gagging again as my throat tightened around him.
I was ripped apart and rebuilt by the only man who looked at my broken pieces like they were holy and all his.
He hissed. “Fuck. That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” He withdrew his fingers slowly, dragging my orgasm out with wicked finesse. My body collapsed forward, wrecked, trembling—and that’s when his hand curled around the back of my head.
He forced me upright again, cock nudging my lips, still slick with my saliva and demanding more. In a voice that was all gravel and sin, he whispered in French, “T’as une jolie petite bouche, Aurélie.” You have a pretty little mouth, Aurélie.
He thrust into me with a brutal snap of his hips, and I clawed at his hips, trying to get a grip, trying to take a seemingly impossible breath.
“Elle est si chaude—” So warm.
Another thrust.
“Mouillée—” Wet.
Another.
“Serrée—” Tight.
He wrapped my hair around his fist and yanked.
“Parfaite pour que je la baise.” Perfect for me to fuck.
And then he came. He groaned, a brutal, beautiful sound as he buried himself deep.
Hot, thick ropes of cum hit the back of my throat as his cock twitched and pulsed between my lips, and I swallowed all of it.
I wanted to—no, I needed to. He’d already claimed every part of my body, and this was my reclamation of him.
This was me showing him that I belonged to him.
When he finally pulled back, chest heaving, he looked down at me still on my knees, spit and cum dripping from my mouth, completely fucked out, and said, “I should’ve run to you sooner.”