Chapter 23 #2
Sweat beaded on his skin, and I licked it from his throat, tasting salt and man, my hands roaming his back, nails digging in as pleasure coiled tighter.
He buried his face in the curve of my neck, lips moving against my pulse.
“You feel like heaven,” he whispered, each word punctuated by a deeper push, his free hand sliding between us to circle my clit with his thumb—light, insistent pressure that made me cry out.
His rhythm faltered for half a heartbeat, hips grinding in deep and holding there as if he needed to feel every inch of me wrapped around him. His mouth found my ear, voice low and rough, almost reverent. “This pussy is mine.”
The words landed like a brand—quiet, possessive, unshakable—and sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through me.
I clenched around him instinctively, a soft, broken moan escaping before I could stop it.
He groaned in response, the sound vibrating against my skin, and then he was moving again, even slower now, deliberate, each long, rolling thrust staking that claim deeper.
The world narrowed to this: the slide of him in and out, wet and obscene; the hitch of his breath against my ear; the way his muscles bunched under my palms.
Time stretched, each sensation lingering—the drag of his chest against my nipples, the brush of his lips on my shoulder, the low, guttural sounds he made when I clenched around him. It was sensual, unhurried worship, his body learning mine as if we'd have forever to explore.
I came first, unexpectedly, the orgasm blooming slow and deep, waves of heat pulsing through me as I shattered around him, my cry muffled against his mouth.
He followed moments later, thrusts stuttering as he groaned my name—low, reverent—his release spilling hot inside me, his body trembling as he held himself deep, riding it out with me.
We stayed locked like that, breaths mingling, hearts pounding in sync, until the aftershocks faded. He didn't pull away immediately; instead, he kissed my temple, my eyelids, the corner of my mouth—soft, grounding touches that anchored me back to earth.
But he wasn't done. Not yet.
With a murmured "More," he eased out of me, both of us slick and sensitive, and flipped us so I straddled his hips.
The shift made me gasp, his cock still half-hard against my thigh, but the look in his eyes—dark, insatiable—promised he intended to fix that.
His hands spanned my waist, guiding me up as he sat against the headboard, pulling me into his lap until I sank down onto him again, savoring the renewed stretch.
This position was different—deeper, more intimate, our faces inches apart, his gaze never leaving mine as I rocked against him.
His hands roamed: one cupping my breast, pinching the nipple until I arched; the other gripping my ass, fingers kneading as he helped set the pace—long, languid rolls that ground my clit against his pelvis with every downward slide.
"You're so fucking beautiful like this," he said, voice husky, leaning in to capture my lower lip between his teeth, tugging gently before soothing it with his tongue.
I rode him steadily, building that heat again, my curls tumbling wild around my face as I tossed my head back, the blonde strands catching the light like a halo he couldn't resist fingering.
His mouth found my neck, sucking a mark there—possessive but tender—while his hips bucked up to meet mine, the slap of skin soft and rhythmic.
I braced my hands on his shoulders, feeling the flex of muscle under my palms, and leaned down to kiss him, messy and deep, swallowing his moans as pleasure crested once more.
This time, it built faster, the angle hitting that spot inside me with every grind, his fingers finding my clit, rubbing in tight circles that made stars burst behind my eyes. "Kane," I gasped, breaking the kiss, my rhythm faltering as I chased the edge.
"Come for me," he urged, voice a low growl, his free hand tangling in my hair to pull my head back, exposing my throat for his teeth—nipping without breaking skin, a claim that sent me spiraling.
I shattered around him, clenching hard, and he thrust up once, twice, spilling into me with a curse that dissolved into my name, his body shuddering beneath mine.
We collapsed together, tangled and spent, his arms wrapping around me like iron bands softened by exhaustion. He stroked my back in lazy sweeps, lips pressing absent kisses to my shoulder, as if he couldn't stop touching me now that he'd started.
Time blurred.
Minutes or hours could have passed. I honestly didn’t know.
There was only sensation. Heat. Movement. The way his hands held me like something precious and his mouth claimed mine like something necessary.
The way his control slipped in flashes, revealing intensity underneath that made my pulse race.
The way he whispered my name against my skin like it mattered.
Like I mattered.
Afterward, the room fell quiet except for the sound of our breathing slowly evening out.
Kane lay half on top of me, his weight comforting rather than heavy, one arm braced beside my head while the other stayed wrapped around my waist.
Like he didn’t intend to let go yet.
This wasn’t casual.
This wasn’t recklessness.
Something fundamental had shifted between us.
He lifted his head slightly, studying my face.
“You all right, Manhattan?” he asked quietly.
The concern there surprised me.
I smiled faintly. “Yeah.”
More than all right.
Lighter.
Like something tight in my chest had finally loosened.
His thumb brushed my cheek, gentle.
“You scared the hell out of me back there,” he admitted.
“With the clothes?”
“With the decision.” A pause. “I don’t do things halfway, Ella. And you … you matter.”
The words settled deep.
Dangerous.
Comforting.
My chest tightened slightly.
“You’re very possessive,” I murmured.
His gaze didn’t waver. “Yeah.”
I waited.
He didn’t apologize.
Didn’t soften it.
Something warm spread through me.
“Good,” I whispered.
His mouth curved slightly.
He rolled onto his side, pulling me against him, my back against his chest, his arm draped securely over my waist.
Claimed.
Protected.
Outside, Paris continued as if nothing monumental had just happened in a small bedroom overlooking the street.
Cars passed. Someone laughed below. Life moved on.
But here, in this moment, everything felt different.
Safer.
One last realization settled quietly into place.
I hadn’t just found out I had a niece today.
I’d also found the man who made the chaos feel survivable.
And Kane, his breath warm against my neck, his hold tightening unconsciously, clearly had no intention of letting me go.