“Hold on tight, baby,” he says.
Then his mouth finds me from behind as his tongue drags slow and filthy between my folds, licking me open while I grip the shelf above me. A book topples off and hits the floor. He doesn’t stop, he continues to eat me like he’s trying to apologize with his tongue, deep, hungry strokes, sucking on my clit, fucking me with his mouth until my legs are shaking and more books are wobbling on the shelf.
“Kairo …” I moan, knuckles white on the wood.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against my pussy. “I’ve always got you.” He makes me come like that, standing on the ladder, face pressed against the books he bought for me, my body shaking so hard the entire shelf rattles. He catches me before my legs give out, carries me to the big wooden desk, and lays me out on it like an offering. He then pushes the shirt up over my breasts, opens a drawer, and takes out the fountain pen. It’s black with a gold trim. He then uncaps it, and I notice the nib catching thelight. Then he starts writing on me. First on my inner thigh, right where it meets my pussy.K-A-I-R-O. His name, in elegant, possessive strokes and then across my lower stomach, big and dark, he writesMINE.He moves higher, circling my left breast, writing his name across the soft curve while my nipple hardens under the cool nib. The ink is cold against my heated skin, every letter feels like a claim. He caps the pen, sets it aside, and pushes my thighs wide open.
Then he sinks into me. He fucks me on the desk with his name still wet on my skin, the ink smearing against his hips with every thrust. He leans down and kisses me, whispering filthy apologies between strokes.
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he rasps, grinding deeply. “I’m sorry I made you feel like property. But fuck, Summer … I can’t stop wanting to own you. I can’t stop wanting to breed this perfect little cunt.” He fucks me harder, the desk creaking beneath us. “I’m going to keep you full.” He groans. “Every single day.” And lately he’s been keeping his word. He reaches for the pen again without pulling out. He uncaps it and writes across my other breast, the nib dragging over my nipple, making me whimper.
When I come, it’s with his name written all over my body and his cock buried inside me. I cry out, clenching around him, nails digging into his back. He follows right after, groaning my name like a prayer as he floods me again, holding me tight while he empties himself deep inside.
He stays there for a long moment, breathing hard against my neck, then slowly pulls out. He looks down at the mess, his cum leaking from me, his name smudged across my skin, and an almost reverent look crosses his face.
“Beautiful,” he whispers as he gathers me into his arms, carries me to the big green leather chair, then sits down with me on his lap. He positions me back onto his cock again, facing the bookshelves, his arms wrapped around me from behind.
“Read to me,” he murmurs against my ear, rolling his hips up slowly.
I reach forward with a shaky hand, pull a book off the shelf, and start reading. My voice is unsteady, but I keep going. His cum is leaking out of me onto the green leather, his name is smeared across my body, and he’s still inside me, hard and deep, holding me like I’m the most precious thing in his world.
And I keep reading.
And somewhere between the first page and the third, his breathing evens out against my neck, his arms loosen just slightly, and the most dangerous man I’ve ever met falls asleep with his cock still buried inside me. I place the book down, turn and take him in, this man who seems to have gone to the end of the earth for me, one of the most dangerous men I know, and probably many men know, and here he is asleep with his cock still in me.
I feel so … powerful.
This man loves me, and he would burn the world down forme.
And I think I like it.
14
KAIRO
She's humming, I hear it before I see her as I lean against the doorframe and just watch. Summer is wearing one of my black T-shirts, the hem brushing the tops of her thighs, her hair twisted up in a messy bun that exposes the back of her neck. Two coffee cups are on the counter as she moves around my kitchen like she belongs here, barefoot and relaxed.
Fuck.
Not sure what she told the staff, as they would normally be the ones that get us coffee in the morning, but I don’t really care about the reason, I’m just glad they are not here. A slow, goofy smile spreads across my face because she’s making me coffee, like this is real, that maybe she wants this to be a real marriage.
Fuck.
A primitive warmth settles deep in my chest.
She’s mine.
Not just because I own her, but because she’s choosing to stand in my kitchen in my shirt, humming while she makes me coffee.
She turns and catches me staring, and instead of the usual sharp retort, she smiles a small, almost shy smile.
“Are you going to stand there staring, or do you want your coffee?” she asks, holding out the mug.
I walk over slowly and take it, our fingers brushing against each other. Normally, she would flinch, but today, she doesn’t pull away.
“Black, two sugars,” she says softly.
She remembered. I take a sip, and it’s perfect. I let out a low, satisfied hum. She giggles,actually giggles,and the sound does dangerous things to me.
