Kayne chuckles as he pulls me up. I groan miserably.
“Everything okay?” I ask him.
“Yes, crisis averted.” He kneels in front of me and removes my pants so I’m left standing in just my ripped pink tank top and belt around my neck.
Scratch that, he just pulled off my top. “We scared the neighbors.”
“Us? Preposterous,” I snort.
Kayne laughs, tugging me by the makeshift collar into a quick kiss. “Yes, I had to assure him it was just a bout of rough sex.”
“In French?” I look up at him.
“Yes, speaking his native tongue helped.” He smiles.
“I didn’t know you spoke French.”
“Yup.” Kayne nods. “And Spanish and Arabic and Mandarin.”
“No Italian?” I joke. “Such an underachiever.”
“Tell me about it,” he jokes. “Maybe I can learn a few choice words just for you.”
“Mmm. Maybe.” I lean against him seductively and kiss him right where my name is tattooed on his skin. His chest is warm and smells so good, like sex and sweat and body wash.
“Come on, siren,” he moans. “Let’s take care of that bottom before we go another round.”
“I’m all for another round.”
“In bed,” he promises darkly, then takes the end of the belt and leads me back downstairs. It’s so hot, him toting me around the bungalow, I almost want to purr.
“Lay down,” Kayne commands once we’re back in the bedroom. I slide forward on the bed and stretch my body out like a lazy cat. Kayne’s lazy kitten. He groans appreciatively behind me.
“Relax.” He rubs my back starting from the tip of my tailbone and circling upward. I just sigh, sated, until I feel the tickle of his warm breath against my check.
“I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?” I protest.
“To get something to rub on your ass. I didn’t exactly come prepared for this.”
“For what?” I question.
“Kink.”
“I think you’re doing a bang-up job so far.”
He glances at me fiendishly then walks out of the room.
“The only thing I could find was Vaseline,” he says as he climbs onto the bed and straddles my thighs. “This might hurt a little.” He rubs the sticky substance over my welts.
I whimper in return. It does hurt. Like a son of a bitch.
“Kitten, are you okay?” Kayne almost sounds worried. I crack my eyes open and look at him over my shoulder. “I’m fine.” I smile. “Better than fine.” I blush.
“I wasn’t expecting that,” he confesses as he wipes his hands with the towel he also brought from the bathroom.
“Neither was I.”
