‘You can be concerned. You could’ve also just given in.’
‘Fuck your concerns into the background? Distract you? Distract me?’
‘Sometimes sex is just sex, Kai.’
‘And sometimes it’s not about sex at all.’
I press my arse into his crotch—these shoes have me nearer his crotch, anyway. ‘Then maybe you can just kiss this booboo better?’ I slide my hand between us, my palm brushing his hard length. ‘The body’s willing, at any rate.’
‘And the control is weak,’ he says all gravelly, pushing back against my hand.
And now we’re getting somewhere.
‘Control is overrated,’ I answer in soft encouragement.
‘Now there’s where you’re wrong, kitten.’
And just like that, he turns me, and I tilt my head for his kiss... a kiss that’s devious and cunning and hidden in the corners of my mouth, my hair, the place where my neck and shoulder meet.
I groan as his fingers simultaneously make short work of my zip. I don’t give the sound of fabric tearing a second thought. In fact, as I close my eyes, I don’t think about anything but having him inside me as he pushes the dress from my shoulders, dragging it further past my waist.
‘These are new,’ he says running a finger across the froufrou edges of my undies. Navy lace—the real stuff, made in France, I’m told—quite a lot of it, considering the brevity of these briefs.
Wonder if Sofia has undies from Europe? Wonder what size dress she is?
‘Thank Martha,’ I answer, almost panting between his kisses as Kai runs a finger between the lace cup and my breast; my nipple pebbling in an instant.
‘Martha?’
I shake my head. ‘Never mind. Tell you later.’ Laundry. Who gives a stuff now.
I melt in his hands as he grabs my arm and marches me across the hall, turning and pushing me down against the table, simultaneously pulling the delicate cups of my bra down. My nipples harden further against the cool wood, the deep throb of my pulse pounding everywhere.
‘I love fucking you,’ he rasps, threading his hands over mine, covering my body with his. ‘Love fucking you and fucking love you.’
‘Quite a way with words you’ve got there.’ It sounds like pure encouragement.Wonder how many times he screwed Sofia. Wonder how long it went on.
‘My wife loves dirty talk, almost as much as she loves my cock.’
His words snake through my insides, his lips and teeth trailing my shoulder, catching my skin in sucking bites.
‘No marks—my dress,’ I pant. ‘My wedding dress.’She’d better not be there.Kai chuckles from behind me, beginning to lick his way down my spine, using his teeth next and causing me to gasp. ‘Be nice.’
‘Nice is for pussies.’ His tone is low and husky as his fingers find mine again, curling them together. ‘But I’m always nice to what’s mine.’ He drags both hands down my arms, my sides, and down the cheeks of my butt, moving the delicate lace to one side. I cry out as he impales me on his fingers, twisting his wrist as his fingers stroke inside. ‘Remind me, sweetheart, whose pussy is this?’
Smiling into the wood, I tell him exactly. ‘It’s mine.’
‘Is that so?’ His reply has a hard edge.
I groan as his fingers withdraw; now trailing my legs from knee to thigh, damp against one side. Kai grasps the ruffled edges of my knickers in his hands, sliding them slowly down my legs, his breath blowing over my skin.
I step from the pool of lace.
Maybe he fucked her over a table.
Wonder if he used the chair in his hotel suite the same way with her?
My heart plummets, but at the metallic clink of his buckle and the rasp of his zip, a frenzy of pulsing and anticipation starts between my thighs.
