Chapter Twenty-One #4
The tears that had clung to my lashes since he started speaking tracked down my cheeks.
I kissed him again, keener, more sure and absolute.
“Show me,” I whispered against his lips, suddenly eager to have him as close as he possibly could be, to feel his feelings as my own.
To be claimed, wholly and eternally. I didn’t want to wait.
I didn’t need time to think it over. “I want to feel it. All of it. Now.”
“You’re sure?” he said, tilting my head back to nose at my mating gland.
My breath lodged in my throat, only enough air left to say, “Yes.”
There was a pause, and then he pressed his lips over the spot before standing again.
I frowned. “Get undressed,” he rasped, his gaze filling with a predatory kind of hunger.
My belly heated, my pulse picking up speed.
“I want to prove it to you without the connection first, and I want you riding my cock when I make you mine.”
My fingers were already unbuttoning my shirt, stripping it off my shoulders and tossing it to the floor before I wrestled out of my trousers.
It wasn’t until they hit the carpet too that I realised he hadn’t moved an inch.
He was observing me, drinking me in and giving me his undivided concentration.
The hard line of his dick was visible through his pants—which were still on. “Why am I the only one getting naked?”
His gaze flicked up to mine. “Patience.”
“Not my strong suit.”
He snorted, and it was fond, tender. “Don’t I know it.”
I aimed to unclasp my necklace, but he stepped forward, seizing my wrist. “Leave it on,” he instructed. “Until I can replace it with the real thing.”
Blood.
I shuddered, and he drew me against him again, his mouth claiming mine.
My fingers curled into the lapels of his shirt as he fucked my mouth with his tongue, and I rose onto my toes to give him as good as he gave.
He palmed at my arse before his hands roved up my back, feeling me, committing my shape to his memory—though I suspected it was already locked in there after two and a half years of observation.
My cock twitched against the top of his thigh, the faintest trace of friction making me moan into his mouth.
He smirked. “Should I have you grind against me again?” he teased, parting from my lips to bite his kisses into my jaw and the sliver of my throat exposed above the choker.
“What turns you on about it, hm? Is it the embarrassment? The depravity?”
Both. “Or you just have really sexy thighs,” I countered and he chuffed.
I angled my face away, allowing him more access.
“It feels . . . filthier, somehow. It’s desperate, rushed, and there’s a power fluctuation.
You don’t get off, and there’s something thrilling about that, but it riles you up, tests the limits of your control. ”
He hummed, the vibration tickling my skin. “You feel powerful.”
“Mm-hm. Makes me feel in charge, but also exposed.”
He withdrew from my neck, looming over me at his full height.
Maintaining eye contact, he removed his finger brace, discarding it on the side table.
He brought his hand to my stomach, grazing over the scar, ignoring my dick.
My eyes lowered to follow his tracks, and he moved upward, to my chest, brushing his thumb over my nipple and huffing in amusement at my gasp.
They were a little fuller than normal, but not by much.
They wouldn’t leak yet, but they were even more sensitive.
Goosebumps prickled on the surface of my skin as he roved higher, skimming my collarbone before finally curling his three fingers around the underside of my jaw and lifting my gaze to his. “You’re always in charge,” he clarified. “You just permit me to play the role.”
“Glad you have that figured out,” I sassed, though it came out breathy.
He kissed me again, and I didn’t think I’d ever tire of the sensation. His lips on mine. Firm. Seeking. Domineering. His stubble scraping against my skin. But the wicked streak in me wanted to test his theory.
“I don’t think you’ve grovelled enough,” I taunted, slipping out of his hold.
He raised an eyebrow, and being cautious of the clothes strewn across the floor, I trod backwards until the back of my legs touched the bed.
Gaze fixed on his, I sank down onto the edge and spread my knees wide, displaying my slick-coated thighs.
His eye flicking downward and dilating felt like a victory.
My lips curved into an impish smirk. “It’s your turn to beg for me. ”
Caine looked up, a feral shift flitting over his reserved face.
His jaw clenched, though not in irritation.
He was aroused beyond belief, and was struggling to contain it.
I could smell it—the musk in the air, the richness of his pheromones leaking into every corner.
He prowled forward, rolling his sleeves up his forearms, exposing his tattoos and the thick, corded muscles that never failed to make my lust spike.
He knew it, if the smugness radiating from him was any clue, though he said nothing.
He reached the space between my legs, and with zero hesitation, he adjusted his trouser legs and lowered himself onto his knees. “Is this what you had in mind?”
Abso-fucking-lutely.
“Aw, look at the big bad Alpha on his knees,” I cooed, propping my hands on the mattress behind me as I raised my leg, resting my foot against his shoulder. His nostrils flared, inhaling my scent. “This is the second time you’ve done this for me.”
“Tease all you want, but I’d kneel for no one else.”
I tapped his chest with my foot. “Too right. Or I’d chop your knot off.”
He snorted. “I’d believe that, if you weren’t so fond of it.”
I knew whatever I did to him, Caine would rain it back down on me tenfold later—I looked forward to it—but I wanted to take the opportunity to give him a little taste of his own medicine.
To control the reins completely and torment him without the goal of watching him snap.
Not entirely, at least. I just wanted him to work for it.
“Go on, then.” I dropped down to my elbows. “Show me how sorry you are.”
Caine hooked his fingers around my ankle, bringing it up to his lips.
He kissed the protruding bone, nipped it with his teeth.
I let him bend my leg however he wanted, my dick twitching when he folded me up so he could kiss the arch of my sole.
He angled it downward before dragging the flat of his tongue over the top of my foot, all the way up to my ankle in one broad stroke.
His devout gaze bored into me, and he slid his hand up my calf as he mouthed at my shin, taking his time, leaving no inch of my skin without his touch. His scent.
Once he reached my knee, he set that leg to the floor before mimicking the exact same relentless worship on the other.
My lips had parted, my breathing heavier.
Watching him being meticulous and tender was hotter than it had any right to be.
He was on my thigh now, prying my legs gently apart with those big, calloused hands so he could suck and bite marks into the soft flesh.
A particularly harsh nip had my head lolling back, a moan tearing from the recess of my throat, but I forced my gaze back to him.
A pool of precum gathered on my stomach as he squeezed at the thickest part before moving to the apex, just below my hip—so close to where he was intentionally avoiding.
I was so turned on by the time he’d created a garland of bruises on my inner thighs, the skin tender and sensitive, tingling with little jolts of pain, I thought he could make me come just like that.
My teeth had sunk into my bottom lip, muffling my moans.
My legs were trembling, my dick red and aching, and all it would’ve taken was a fan of his breath.
Caine cupped the undersides of my knees, pushing them toward my chest, spreading me open.
He leaned in close, his face hovering just above my hole.
I felt myself clench.
“You smell so sweet here.” He inhaled deeply. The filthy bastard. “It’s intoxicating.”
“I thought you didn’t like sweet things?” I rasped.
“I just hadn’t tasted you yet.” He ducked down, his tongue laving through my slick, growling as he swallowed.
A wild look passed through his eye, his awareness reduced to my taste, my essence.
I didn’t get a chance to adapt to the new sensation, he just dove between my cheeks again, fixed his mouth against my hole, and sucked.
“Fuck,” I cried out, one of my hands flying to his head, fingers weaving through his hair. My balance wavered, resting on one elbow, but I made it work, keen to watch as he speared his tongue and plunged it inside, over and over. “Caine!”
He alternated between drawing back to lap and nip around the entrance and pitching forward, fucking in as deep as he could go, consuming me, stretching me.
It was so hot, so wet, the sloppy sounds were lyrical in my fucking ears.
I felt my walls constrict around the pulsing muscle, and Caine groaned as if there was nowhere else he’d rather be, the noise reverberating right through me.
The angle of my hand was awkward, but I pinched at my nipple, my hips canting upward.
I needed more.
“I want to ride your face,” I said, the pleasure twisting tightly below my spine.
Caine didn’t answer, just curled his hands around the tops of my thighs and pressed his face closer.
I took the initiative, gripping his hair tighter and using my heels on his back as leverage to roll my hips with more purpose.
I rocked frantically against his tongue, his mouth, that fucking stubble.
It felt so good, grinding my rim over those coarse hairs, feeling him inside and snarling as if he was starved.
His fingers digging into my thighs were almost painful, and that was what pushed me over.