“That isn’t what I meant. This is far too generous a present.” It’s my twenty-second birthday. Kane and I met six weeks ago, and a month ago I broke into his apartment, and he claimed me.
Since that day, it’s been a book rec with five chillies around here. Porn without plot. Pure smut.
Kane is insatiable. He wakes me most mornings by licking me out, which I admit is the most original alarm ringtone I’ve ever heard. I come and then he slides into me. He uses my body as he wishes, turning me over to fuck me from behind fast and hard while whispering filthy words in my ear, or lifting my ankles to his shoulders so he can thrust into me deep and slow while relentlessly stroking my clit.
Which makes it all the more surprising that we’re here in central London in a bookshop for my birthday treat, rather than in his bed, with me tied to the headboard and his cock in my mouth. Or my pussy. Or other places that make me blush even more wildly.
“You’ve seen how well-endowed the contents of mybank accountare. Very large.”
I cover my mouth and laugh. He’s right on that count. Both the bank account and the implicit other enormous thing. Who knew something so big would feel so amazing.
“Now.” Kane pulls me roughly to him and kisses my forehead, before holding me away, those violet eyes so dark they’re purple. “Every book you want, angel. As many as you hand me, I will hold. I’ll give you until the count of three, then I want you torun.”
He always makes everything fun, my billionaire boss. My devil kingpin fiancé.
“One.” He looks me up and down as I turn and get ready, leaning forward. “Two.” I eye up the romance aisles. That’s where I’m heading first. “Three.”
I’m giggling like a toddler as I sprint off to the fantasy romance section, my hair flying behind me, and Kane on my heels.
An elderly lady exclaims, “Oh!” as we blast past her, and heads turn as I screech to a halt, searching the shelves.
There. The full set of gold foil embossed, black-edged hardbacks of the series I’ve been reading as eBooks. I tug them off the shelf and Kane is there, arms outstretched for them.
“Give it to me, angel,” he growls, and I laugh again at the intense expression on his face.
There’s nothing my stalker likes better than to spoil me. Nothing grants him more pleasure than to make me come or giving me presents.
I pile the books onto his hands.
He winks. “More.”
“You’re going to regret this,” I say as I pull out another series—this one paperbacks with bright iridescent covers. My engagement ring glints in the lights as I pile them into Kane’s arms. It’s still not quite familiar. Not real that I’m loved enough to deserve that expensive ring. “Your arms will give way.”
“I’m strong enough to take it,” he teases as I scan the shelves for more favourite books. “You won’t break me, I promise. I’ll be your stallion and you can use me however you like.”
Another pile of hardbacks get tipped into his waiting arms and our eyes meet. And for a second, I’m distracted from my task by the sheer love I see there. Unconditional. He told me that a month ago, and has proved it over and over. There’s nothing I could do that would put my stalker off.
I’ve tried.
He doesn’t care if I’m sweaty, or messy. He doesn’t care if I’ve been crying over a book that broke my heart. Kane just gathers me up, snot and all, and cuddles me.
“I want that indie author series?—”
“In small-town romance,” he replies, reading my mind. “That way.” He jerks his head to the left.
I don’t ask how he knows that, just trusting him and jogging in that direction. And there on the top shelf, in a big display, is the whole twenty-book Canadian romance series I’ve been working through. I scoop them up. Then for good measure, I add some standalones by an author I recognise but haven’t read.
And we continue like that as the timer Kane set—when? How?—ticks down until as I stack a book on top of the two piles he’s holding, the alarm goes off.
“That’s all.” Kane rests his chin on the books and grins. “Should keep you busy for a while.”
“A week at least,” I reply innocently.
“Minx. Let’s buy you your book haul and then we can get you home for some reading time.” And the way he says it, I know he means that I’ll be reading, and he’ll be eating my pussy until my eyes cross.
At the till, the assistant takes in the unusual sight in her stride.
“Someone’s very lucky,” she says with a smile as she beeps through the novels, stashing them into strong paper bags with the shop’s logo on the front.
