Chapter 12
Brielle
“That’s it, Princess. Bend over and show me your ass.”
I do as Kane said and roll over onto all fours, jutting my ass out and wiggling it playfully. His hand cracks down on one cheek, and I moan as the pain radiates through my body.
Fuck, that feels so good.
“Again,” I demand.
He smacks my other cheek.
“Oh God,” I moan. “Again.”
Another smack, and I clench my thighs, worried that my arousal is going to drip down the inside of my thighs and onto the sheets.
I reach between my legs, needing the release, but I can’t seem to find it.
It’s so close, resting on the precipice, yet no matter what I do, how fast or slow I massage my clit, I can’t seem to tip over the edge …
“Please, Kane,” I beg in frustration. “I need help. I need to come.”
“Fuck, baby. Open your eyes and say the word, and I’ll help you come.”
Open my eyes?
But they are open …
My eyes fly open, taking in my surroundings, and I quickly realize that I was dreaming.
I glance down, finding myself in nothing but a men’s shirt and my hand in my panties.
Oh God.
No, no, no.
I wasn’t just dreaming.
I was fantasizing about being with Kane.
Only it wasn’t just a fantasy because the wetness between my legs and all over my fingers is real.
“Fuck,” Kane groans, his eyes igniting with lust. “Even in your dreams, I’m satisfying you. Tell me, baby”—he smirks—“what was I doing to you?”
“It’s not what you were doing to me. It’s what I was doing to you.”
“Oh, yeah? And what were you doing to me?”
“Murdering you,” I deadpan.
Kane chuckles. “Hmm … so, you’re telling me, if I reach between your legs, I won’t find you soaked?”
He glances down, and I quickly pull my hand out of my panties, instantly regretting it when my fingers shine with my arousal.
“What can I say?” I shrug, trying to play it off. “The thought of killing you turns me on.”
“Oh, Bri.” He tsks. “You want to hate me, but you can’t deny the way you want me.
” He grabs the hand that was just in my panties and slides my pointer and middle finger into his mouth, making a show of licking and sucking the juice off my digits.
“The way you want this …” With my hand still in his, he brings it down to my material-clad pussy and uses my own fingers to push the fabric aside.
“Go ahead, baby. Finish what you started.”
I grind my molars, not wanting to admit the truth—that I can’t finish.
I’ve tried countless times since the night I spent with Kane, but every time, I get lost in my own head.
It’s like once my body got the taste of true satisfaction, it no longer wanted the imitation.
Even in my damn fantasy, I couldn’t finish.
“I’m not in the mood,” I mutter, pulling my hand away.
“No?” His brows furrow. “Can I?”
He nods toward my pussy, asking permission to touch me, and a lump of emotion forms in my throat. He doesn’t know what happened to me, only that I crave control, and he makes it a point to give it to me.
Except when he’s forcing you to marry him …
My legs, apparently with a mind of their own, fall apart.
Kane reaches into my panties and, when he finds me soaked, smirks devilishly. “Oh, baby, you’re definitely in the mood.”
He pulls the material down my legs and drops them off the side of the bed.
I have no idea where we are or whose room we’re in—because it’s definitely not my room or one of the rooms at the country club—but before I can give it any more thought, Kane pushes two fingers deep inside me, making me arch off the bed and moan in want.
“That’s it, Princess,” he murmurs, shifting so he has easier access to my pussy. “Now, while I finger your tight pussy, tell me what you were fantasizing about.”
Oh God.
I shake my head, refusing to admit what we were doing in my dream, and Kane stops fingering me.
“If you want to come, you’re going to tell me every detail of your dream.”
Fuck, I really want to come.
“Okay,” I breathe out. “Keep going.”
He quirks a brow.
“We were in bed together.”
He goes back to massaging my walls with his fingers, and I moan in pleasure.
Kane’s right—I might hate him, but I can’t deny how much I want him.
“Keep going,” he warns.
“And I was on my hands and knees, and you were behind me.”
He shocks me when he pulls his fingers out and flips me onto my hands and knees.
“What are you—”
He reaches between my legs and thrusts his fingers back inside me, hard and deep.
I drop my head onto the pillow, releasing an embarrassingly loud moan, and I hear him chuckle darkly from behind me.
“And what were we doing in this position?” he asks nonchalantly, like he’s not finger-fucking me into oblivion.
“You were …”
He adds a third finger, and I curse under my breath at how full I feel.
“I was …” he prompts, finding my clit and stroking it with what I assume is the pad of his thumb.
“You were spanking me.”
He stills, and I glare back at him, needing him to keep going.
“You want me to spank this sweet ass?” he asks, rubbing my ass cheek with the hand that’s not buried inside me.
When he stops, I move back slightly, silently begging him to keep going.
I’m like an attention-starved cat.
I can’t stop craving Kane’s touch.
I shouldn’t want it.
Hell, I should be repulsed by it, but my body isn’t on the same page as my brain.
It wants his touch. His warmth.
For years, when I was in Russia, I yearned for a connection like this. It was why I settled for Theo even though the attraction wasn’t there.
But now that my body is getting what it needs from Kane, it can’t stop craving more of him.
“Please,” I cry in frustration, needing him to make me feel good.
“Tell me to spank you, and I’ll give you what you need.”
Fuck, this guy.
How the hell does he manage to make me feel like I’m in control while not giving up an ounce of it?
“Princess …” He circles my clit, and the beginning of an orgasm stirs within me.
“Yes!” I hiss. “Spank me and make me fucking come—now!”
His hand connects with my flesh at the same time he pushes his fingers back inside me, and my body lights up like a Christmas tree.
And fuck if what he’s doing to me isn’t the best damn gift I’ve been given.
Just like in my dream, he alternates smacking each ass cheek while he fucks me slow and deep with his fingers.
His thumb massages circles along my swollen nub, and before I know what’s happening, the most amazing orgasm takes over my body.
My legs shake, and my heart thumps so hard that my ears ring. My vision goes blurry, and …
“Fuck, baby, you just squirted all over our fucking bed.”
Our fucking bed.
Oh my God.
I’m in Kane’s bed.
And then it all hits me …
I was at the bar, drunk, and he picked me up and carried me out.
I must’ve fallen asleep in his car, and he brought me to his house.
The house he’d told me I would be moving into once we were married.
And then I fantasized about him spanking me, and he turned it into a reality.
I flip onto my back, pulling my shirt down to cover my bare pussy, internally groaning when I realize I’m wearing Kane’s damn shirt.
“This changes nothing,” I tell him, shuffling to the edge to get away from him now that the high from my orgasm is being replaced with regret.
“And why the hell am I in your house?” I hiss, glaring at him. “You should’ve brought me home last night.”
“I did.” He shrugs, leaning back on his elbows.
His gaze roams down my body, and even though I know the shirt is covering the important parts, I still feel exposed.
“This is my home … and now, it’s yours as well.”
“Not until we get married,” I argue.
“Actually, there’s been a change of plans,” he says dryly. “Since you can’t be trusted to behave like a respectable adult, I’ve arranged for your belongings to be packed up and brought here. You’ll be moving in with me, effective immediately.”
“You can’t do that!” I shriek, the thought of having to share a house and a bed with this man making me hysterical.
“It’s already done.”
I grab my phone on the nightstand and don’t find a single text from my brother.
What the hell? I know he’s busy with his family, but damn.
“Daniil is delivering it all this morning.”
Fuck! I thought I had another few weeks—and I was hoping to prolong it more than that. I’ve never lived with a man before. And the last man I spent an entire night with—aside from last night, which I don’t even remember, thanks to the tequila shots—was Owen.
At the thought of him, my heart sinks as a flashback of the last time we were together hits me hard.
“It’s going to be okay, babe.” Owen wraps his arms around me from behind and settles his hands on my nonexistent bump. “We’ll hide, and eventually, your old man will give up.”
I wish he were right, but that’s not the type of person my father is. He won’t give up until he finds us and drags me back home to marry that psycho Anthony.
Bile fills my mouth at the thought of having to spend my life with the man who raped me. I’d rather die than spend a night with him.
But I need to live because I have a baby growing inside me. I don’t know whose sperm it is—Anthony’s or Owen’s—but it doesn’t matter. The baby is part me, and Owen told me he’d love the baby, no matter what.
“I love you,” I whisper, shifting closer to him so my back is flush against his front and I’m surrounded by his warmth.
“I love you too.” He strokes his thumb up and down my lower belly. “And I love this baby.”
It doesn’t matter that we’re on the run, hiding out in a dingy, gross motel, in hope of escaping my father—one of the most dangerous men I’ve ever known. When I’m in Owen’s arms, I feel safe.
We fall asleep in each other’s arms, and I dream of what life could be like if we could escape my father. Raising our little boy or girl together. Family breakfasts, trips to the park. Christmases filled with love and laughter.