Page 151 of Stranger to Love

"Does my little heartbreaker like it when Mommy claims her?" she whispered against my ear.

"Yes," I choked out, my eyes squeezed shut. "Please, Mommy. Yes."

"Look at me when you answer," she commanded, her tone shifting back to that sharp, academic steel.

I forced my eyes open, meeting her dark, dilated pupils. The power radiating off her was intoxicating.

"I love it," I said, my voice steady now, infused with a raw, aching honesty. "I love being yours. I don't want anyone else to touch me. I only want you."

She hummed, a low vibration of approval. She reached up, her thumb tracing the edge of the fresh, dark mark on my neck, her touch almost clinical.

"Good. Because this is just the beginning of your re-education, Alex. By tomorrow morning, you won't just look like you belong to me. You’ll feel it in every muscle of your body. You’ll be so saturated with the memory of my touch that the mere thought of Ms. Davies will feel like a sacrilege."

She leaned down, her lips ghosting over mine without quite touching them. "Are you ready to be a good girl and show me just how much you value my ownership? On the bed. Now."

I practically scrambled. My knees hit the mattress and I crawled toward the centre, my movements frantic. I was a live wire, humming with a desperate need for the tension to snap.

Carrie stood by the edge of the bed, watching me with an unblinking intensity as she began to undress. Her movements were a sharp contrast to my desperation—deliberate, elegant, and entirely controlled.

"You deserve to be punished for this, Alex," she said, her voice a low, melodic threat as she unbuttoned her blouse. "You deserve to be wrecked for letting another woman believe she could touch what is mine. I should leave you aching and empty for a week just to remind you of your place."

The soft whimper I let out was lost in the quiet expanse of the room, doing nothing to stall her as she coolly unbuttoned her trousers and stepped out of them.

"But... you were a good girl. You came to me. You confessed. You told Mommy exactly how you’ve been misbehaving." She stepped out of her clothes, standing there in nothing but her black lace underwear—a goddess of both mercy and ruin. "And, because you were honest, I’m going to make you feel so good that you’ll forget any other woman ever existed."

The sight of her made my blood turn to liquid fire. With a single, fluid motion, she hooked her fingers into the straps of my sports bra and pulled it over my head, discarding it carelessly onto the floor. My underwear followed a second later, leaving me completely exposed under the intoxicating press of her body.

She finally leaned down, closing the agonising gap between us. When her lips hit mine, it was not a soft peck—it was a claim. It was deep, hungry, and possessive. I let out a choked moan into her mouth, my arms flying up to wrap around her neck, pulling her body flush against mine. I wanted to disappear into her, to feel the friction of her skin erasing every trace of the library, every trace of Billie.

Carrie’s hands began a slow, reverent pilgrimage across my skin. They were warm, possessive, and impossibly soft as they glided over the curves she had spent weeks memorising. She broke the kiss just enough to trail her lips along my jaw, her voice a ragged, intimate whisper.

"I need you to understand, Alex," she murmured, her breath hitching slightly. "You have to understand what it means to me... to be the only one."

She shifted her weight, her fingers splaying across my stomach, tracing the dip of my waist with a lingering touch that made my muscles quiver. "To be the one who gets to treasure you as you deserve to be treasured. To be the only person on this earth who knows the sounds you make when you’re coming apart. To be the one who makes you feel this good."

She punctuated the sentence with a deep, lingering kiss to the hollow of my throat, right beside the mark she had just given me. I was gone. I was lost in it, my fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her closer.

"You’re mine," she breathed against my collarbone. "Mine."

Every touch was an erasure. She wasn’t just making love to me; she was rewriting my history, overwriting every quick encounter I had ever had with this slow, overwhelming devotion.

She moved between my legs, her fingers tracing the fading, yellowed bruises on my thighs. Her mouth ghosted over my centre, her chin tickling against the soft curls of my hair, making my entire body twitch in frantic anticipation. She caught the movement and smirked, a flash of pure, predatory mischief in her eyes, before dipping her head.

She dragged her tongue upward in one long, agonisingly slow stroke. I let out a broken whimper, my hips arching off the bed instinctively, but she pulled away instantly, leaving me shivering in the sudden cold.

The words fell from my lips before I could even think to catch them. "Mommy... please."

A visible shiver ran through Carrie at the sound of my voice. She leaned back in, peppering soft, stinging kisses across the sensitive skin of my inner thighs as I tried to angle myself toward her. She let out a low, melodic chuckle, cooing at me with a sweetness that was somehow more demanding than a direct order.

“Oh, princess,” she breathed against my skin. “Do you really need me that badly?”

I nodded frantically, my fingers tangling in the bedsheets. "Yes," I gasped, my voice thick with a need I couldn't begin to hide. "Yes, please."

Carrie hummed, a low sound of satisfaction that vibrated through my entire body. She leaned back in, her tongue swirling against me before she caught my clit in a light, steady suction. My world narrowed down to that single point of contact.

"Fuck, yes," I choked out, my back arching until only my heels and head touched the mattress.

But just as the pressure began to build into something unbearable, she pulled back. The sudden loss of her warmth made me let out a high, pathetic whimper. I reached for her, my hips stuttering in a desperate search, but she caught my wrists, pinning them gently but firmly against the bed.