“Kiss me.”
The words aren’t even all the way out of my mouth before Kane’s mouth is on mine. A whimper escapes me, and he lifts me into his arms, carrying me over to the counter and spreading my legs. And then we’re all teeth and tongues and hands as we quickly remove each other’s clothes.
“Fuck,” he groans, wrapping his fingers around the base of my throat and then peppering kisses along my sensitive flesh.
“Do you have any idea what this body does to me?” He palms my breast with one hand while keeping his other wrapped around my throat and then sucks my nipple into his mouth.
“Harder,” I breathe out.
Kane glances up at me, and it takes everything in me not to shy away in embarrassment for what I’m asking.
“You’re going to have to be more specific,” he says, his gaze filled with lust. “You want me to choke you or suck that pretty nipple harder?”
“Choke me,” I blurt out.
He stares at me for several seconds, and I’m about to tell him never mind when he nods and says, “We need a safe word.”
“What? Why?”
“Because if I’m going to do anything that could hurt you, even if you want it, we need to make sure it’s done safely. I’m not an expert on BDSM, but I know enough to know that we need a safe word.”
“Okay, um …” I glance around, unsure what to use as a safe word. I’ve read about them in articles when I was researching my craving for rough sex after being raped, but I never considered I would be in the position to make one. And then I remember that one article suggested you pick a word you’d easily remember but wouldn’t use on a regular basis. “Roses.”
It’s my favorite type of flower, and I’ll easily remember it.
“Roses,” Kane confirms.
“Yeah. Roses.”
Kane nods and then tightens his hold around my throat, crashing his mouth against mine. His tongue sweeps across the seam of my lips, and I open, giving him full access to taste and devour me.
“Tell me it again,” he murmurs against my lips.
“Roses.”
“Good girl.”
His lips connect with mine once again, and his hand glides up my thigh and delves between my parted legs. He thrusts his fingers into my core, and I moan into his mouth at the delicious intrusion.
He takes my noises as his cue to thrust back in harder, and I clench around his fingers, already close to coming.
His skilled mouth devours mine while he squeezes my throat, slowly cutting off my air supply little by little as he fingers me. When my orgasm starts to creep up, Kane senses it and applies more pressure around my neck, heightening my senses.
“That’s it, baby. Come all over my fingers.”
At his command, I fly over the edge, pleasure tearing through my body. He tightens his grip around my neck a bit more, and fireworks shoot off behind my lids as I come long and hard around his hand.
While I’m mid-orgasm, Kane yanks his fingers out of me and pulls me off the counter, flipping me onto my stomach so I’m leaning against the edge, and thrusts into me from behind. One orgasm rolls into two, and I scream out his name as he grips the curve of my hip with one hand and shoves his fingers into my mouth with the other, forcing me to taste my arousal.
“Goddamn, you’re perfect,” he groans.
His movements turn erratic, desperate, and then he sinks his teeth into the delicate flesh of my shoulder. Another wave of pleasure rolls through me as Kane drains every drop of his orgasm into me.
As we work to catch our breath, an easy calmness settles over us as it hits me—Kane isn’t the man I wanted to marry, but he’s quickly becoming the man I want to be married to.
And that scares the hell out of me.
“Isn’t she just the cutest?”
