One knee between mine slides my legs further apart.
‘Let me remind you,’ he rasps, his hands all over my skin. ‘All this is mine. The smooth curve of your hips and the soft swell of your arse.’ As he pushes himself inside me, one hand clasps the delicate column of my neck, his long fingers cradling there. ‘And this pussy. All mine.’ My cries of pleasure mix with his words, vibrating against his hand.
‘Good, kitten?’ As best as I can, I nod. ‘Want me to make you come?’
‘Yes.’ I lick my lips. ‘Yes, please.’
‘Then tell me what the fuck is going on inside that head of yours.’
My insides pulse emptily as he draws back, his cock now lying between the cheeks of my behind. I’m almost calcified against the wood, but it’s not his action that has me panicked; it’s the whispers inside my head.
What if—is she—did he—what about?
‘Was it as good with her?’
‘What?’ Kai’s hand tightens against my throat, and I swallow in reflex.
‘Withher.’ I can’t bring myself to say her name. ‘Did you enjoy fucking her?’
Kai’s laugh is almost cruel. ‘You’re much more of a masochist than you seem.’
‘Fuck you,’ I growl.
With a flex of both his hips and hands, I find myself widening my stance, almost working myself into the wood. Mortification, or as some sensory demand, I can’t be sure.
‘Oh, you want to, sweetheart. Maybe you want to fuck her, too?’
‘Maybe you’d like to see that.’ Now it’s me who sounds harsh.
‘A threesome, kitten? Why, I’m almost amused.’ His wet length slides down my cleft causing me to shudder. ‘I think our marriage bed is a little too new to be introducing others into the space.’
‘So you would?’ My heart aches. ‘You’d fuck her again?’
‘Why do I get the impression you want me to hurt you?’
‘That’s not an answer.’
‘I would not,’ he says thrusting inside me once more. I bite my lip to stop myself from calling out, my nails scratching the wood. Suddenly, his mouth is near my ear, the momentum of his body crushing me to the table. ‘Because for me, there is only you. How many times must I say it?’
As Kai pulls back, I teeter on the pointed tips of my toes, my arse thrust upwards and his grip on my neck almost tight enough to bruise. It’s not a comfortable position, but that isn’t a priority—for either of us—as he begins to move, each controlled thrust lancing deep in my belly, each flex of his hips delivered with his whispered words.
That I’m a fool.
That he craves me.
That he loves to hold me down and hear my cries.
That I love it as much as he.
Because what we are is a duet, not a duel.
A hungry arousal licks its way through me as my hips clash with the table top, each promise of ownership tightening my insides
‘Tell me. Who does this belong to?’ he demands, punctuating his point with a collision of flesh.
Incoherent, I can’t answer as he continues to pound into me.
‘Answer me.’ His hand on my neck tightens, pulling back my head another inch. I cry out his name, his next thrust so deep the table’s feet screech against the floor, my fingertips pushed against the smooth surface to steady myself.
