Chapter 11 Take Me Home （Margot） #4
“Wasn’t that a shame? You teased my dick to oblivion without trying, duchess. Bad.” He pinches my nipple until I gasp. “And this bathing suit. Fuck.”
“It’s more like a backup. I’ve got way better at home.”
“I want to see you in all of them. Then I want to tear them off and fuck you senseless.”
Ohhh, no.
He licks down my neck, and I shudder, rolling my hips against his cock, climbing him in the water.
I think I could come from this alone, and that’s insane.
Normally, I need some manual help on my clit.
But Kane Saint’s touch is pure sorcery of the darkest kind.
When his big hand touches the small of my back as he pushes me up and his mouth descends onto my nipple, I’m not prepared.
My bathing suit already feels so warm on my skin, but his mouth is searing.
Blindingly hot.
I’m a gasping mess, biting my lip when he pinches my other nipple. A loud moan spills into the night.
Holy hell, I’ve got to be quiet.
The munchkins really can’t see us like this.
“Kane, hey?” I whisper to the night sky. “Are you sure they won’t wake up?”
“Positive. Movie’s still going. And if they do, they’ll either head upstairs to crash or wait for me in my room. They don’t change routine much when they’re this tired.”
With his hands on my hips, he grinds me against him, turning me into his toy and I don’t even mind.
“They won’t see anything. Promise.” He kisses me softly.
“I—I hope so. That would be a disaster.”
“Enough fussing about the bad, duchess.” He flicks his tongue over my other nipple again. “What do you want? Don’t tell me you want to stop before you’ve felt me.”
No, no.
I want everything.
His hands carving my shape in his memory, his mouth reducing me to a prayer, his dick inside me.
Tonight.
Now.
Tomorrow, too.
I reach between us, grabbing his mad erection through his trunks.
“I want this. You don’t get to be a prick just because you’re part oak tree,” I whisper.
“Fuck!” he rasps against my mouth as I squeeze him.
Holy flaming hell.
Somehow, I find the wit to tease, just like he did to me, stroking his impressive length through the slick material and adoring the way he jerks and throbs with every pump of my hand.
Kane leans back like the beast he is, his eyes hot and heavy even through the darkness as he watches.
He vibrates with tension, but his hands stay riveted to my hips, holding me as he lets me rile him up.
I quicken my strokes, faster and faster, until he knows my torture.
“Damn you,” he says, low and insistent. There’s pain in his expression as his chest heaves. “Duchess, if you don’t stop, I’ll—”
“What?” I grin innocently.
Then I reach under the elastic of his shorts and wrap my fingers around his seething, rock-hard skin—or rather, I try.
He’s so huge it’s actually a struggle to close my fingers.
But it works.
Because Kane breaks with a feral groan, snapping his head back.
Oh, the perverse beauty.
It does something evil to me, watching this stonehearted hulk falling apart in my hands.
My pulse throbs between my legs.
Tonight, I’m Medusa, and I’m shameless.
His body turns to stone with every slick pump of my fist.
The water isn’t the best for this, and after a few seconds—or minutes or hours or whatever—he grabs my wrist.
“Upstairs,” he commands. “We go now or I’m fucking dragging you.”
Whoa.
No objection.
I just stand, and he joins me, tugging his shorts back in place over his seething hard-on. Nothing can hide the tent, and I swallow a muffled laugh.
“Hush,” he whispers.
We take turns toweling off, and then he grabs my hand, leading me through the back door. The house is silent and dark as we hurry through it, practically tiptoeing past the great room, careful not to wake the sleeping kids.
Straight to his room.
No question.
Unlike mine, there’s a bathroom attached, and he takes me inside, perching me on the sink as he shoves off his trunks.
He flicks the bright light on, and it shocks me so much that I spend a few seconds blinking at him.
Here, I see the tiger again, this apex hunter with dizzying green eyes.
His pupils narrow, then dilate again.
His dark hair hangs in damp snatches, fiendishly messy from dragging my hands through it.
He only has the one tattoo on his arm, and the rest of his skin is the same honed muscle built to destroy a woman’s sanity.
He has abs for miles.
A freaking V of pure honed muscle pointing to his large erection like he’s the reigning king of sex.
Not fair.
It isn’t right that there are men who can make you very stupid, very fast, and leave you very heartbroken the next day. All because they’re model gods.
And he’s staring at me with his dark, drugged eyes, his breath ragged as he takes me in.
“I wasn’t done with you.” I wrap my legs around him, dragging him closer before I take him in my hand again.
His cock twitches, and he exhales sharply, resting his forehead on mine.
“Go fucking slow. I’m not popping off like champagne.”
“Isn’t that the point?” I smirk.
“Wasn’t planning on coming in your hand.” He reaches for me, pushing aside the soaked material between my legs. “Your wet pussy says you agree. I’m not wasting your hot little cunt when it’s dripping to be ravaged.”
No freaking argument here.
Just his fingers, stroking slow, hypnotic circles around my clit, edging me until my breath hitches.
Grinding on him earlier felt good, but this is something else entirely.
I wipe the bead of moisture at the slit of his cock and he groans raggedly.
His fingers don’t slow—if anything, they work faster.
My core clenches.
If it’s a competition, I don’t know who’ll win.
I’m not sure I want to.
“Kane,” I whisper.
“Yeah?” When I don’t reply, he groans. “Say my name again. Just like that.”
“Kane.” I moan it this time, breathy and wanting. “Kane—I need you in me.”
Another groan, and his lips brush my cheekbone, tongue hot against my skin.
I pump him again, slowly this time, feeling his entire body shudder.
We’re both poised on the edge, this delicate balance.
Seeing him struggle to keep himself together makes me proud, too.
How can a man like this want me so badly he can barely hold back?
“Condoms,” he spits like it’s a curse. “Don’t know if I have any—let me check.”
Oh, crap.
If he leaves me like this, I might actually die.
“It’s… it’s okay. I’m clean,” I whisper, arching into his touch as he pushes another finger inside. Full, but not full enough.
“Yeah?” He crooks his fingers, and I lose my train of thought.
It’s a big ask when we’re strangers and there’s always some risk.
But I need him inside me.
My mouth moves, open and silently pleading.
“What’s that, sweetheart?” He nips at my neck. “What were you going to say?”
I retaliate by tightening my grip on his cock, stroking faster, watching his chest heave.
“You could just fuck me without a condom,” I gasp. “If you want.”
He bares his teeth, inhaling roughly.
“You have no fucking clue how much I’d love that.” His thumb smothers my clit as his fingers work deeper, and liquid heat floods the base of my stomach, growing and swelling. “Is that what you want?”
“Yes.” I clutch at my last fluttering train of thought. “I’m on birth control.”
The last thing either of us need is an accidental pregnancy, but I’m so far gone even that sounds hot.
No judging.
I’m a little twisted.
I’m in a daze but I’m not crazy.
I’ve never, in all my life, had a one-night stand without a condom.
It’s not the smart or grown-up thing to do.
And when you’re used to casual flings with men who’ll ghost you after a few times at most, you need to be sensible.
Sexual health is no joke, I know that. I do.
But Kane just feels different.
His lightning eyes feel familiar in a way they shouldn’t after barely a week together.
It’s like I’ve spent half my life staring into them, losing myself willingly.
Or maybe I just love seeing him, the man behind the bluster.
I’ve seen the good dad, the grump, and the fearless beast when there’s a threat to his family—or me.
Yes, it’s stupid to trust his word that he’s also clean and everything will be fine. Perhaps it’s also dumb to trust my birth control, even though it’s never let me down in the past.
All I know is, I can’t bear the idea of losing this moment.
Not for a second.
“Okay,” he says finally. I feel the words through the rumble of his chest. “I’ll fuck you, but first you’re going to come for me, duchess. Come so hard I’ll have to peel you off the floor.”
Holy shit.
…that won’t be a problem if he keeps talking like that.
I’m already so close my legs are shaking.
And knowing he’s close too, the idea of him being inside me, the way he’s rubbing my clit and following my body’s rhythm to give me exactly what I need, bringing me right to the cliff…
This can only be the best kind of brutal.
“That’s right,” he says, holding me against him. “Good girl. You’re Kane’s good girl now.”
Oh my God, I am.
I bury my head in his shoulder effortlessly as his fingers quicken and his thumb sends me into tomorrow.
My orgasm rips the fabric of space.
This isn’t just another O I need like my next breath.
Not another predictably good, run-of-the-mill climax I get with my favorite toys, or maybe a few of the good ones Kelso used to give.
This is different.
This is floating.
An out-of-body experience where I liquify like molten gold.
I’m falling and spinning and coming apart.
He’s holding me up while I come undone a dozen different ways I can’t describe.
All I can do is hold on.
Hold on to Kane as he keeps working me over, sending wave after wave of sensation washing over me.
He knows when to start and when to strum, when to stop and leave me ruined, sagging against him.
“Kane.” I whisper his name with awe.
He laughs against my temple, proud and light.
I slowly crawl back into my own body again.
His hand lingers between my legs, and when he moves it, I whimper again wordlessly. He’s so gentle as he scoops me up, carrying me over to the bed.
His eyes glint in the shadows, all dancing desire as he pulls my swimsuit off. I’ve never been so nervous in my life, but just like on horseback, his hands reassure me.
They’re firm as he lifts me onto the bed, hovers over me, and takes a heady moment, just breathing me in.
“Are you ready for me, duchess?”
So achingly ready.
But all I can do is nod, holding my breath as his eyes turn feral.
Then he pushes the blunt head of his cock against my entrance.
Time stops.
His mouth covers mine like a silent vow, swallowing my rough moan as he eases in, taking and filling and claiming, pulling my legs open with his hands on my knees.
“Fuck,” he rasps as his hips notch against mine.
We’re flush now, no space left between us, and it feels impossibly good.
“I… I’m not sure I can be quiet for this,” I say miserably.
He smothers a laugh, but his eyes are stark raving serious.
“You need to be, duchess. Fight it. Bite me if you have to.” His hand cups the back of my neck, and I press my lips against the curve of his shoulder. My teeth graze his skin and he pushes my face into him. “You want to ride the storm, you have to whisper. Can you do that?”
“Yesss,” I say mindlessly. “O-okay.”
“Margot, can you do it?”
Truthfully, I’m not sure I’m capable of breathing like a normal person right now.
It still feels like parts of me are scattered on the other side of the universe, but yes, for him, I’ll try.
He pulls out and thrusts back in, slowly at first, then gaining speed.
Our bodies fit like destiny, every stroke deeper and warmer than before.
I bite back a louder moan, finding my missing pieces in every thrust.
“Yeah?” He grunts a question, the word harsh and needy, and I lean back.
“Touch me,” I demand, urgent and needy.
He brings his fingers back to my clit, finding the swollen, sensitive nub and drawing tiny circles around it. “Like this? Your new addiction?”
My breaths are tiny moans.
The sound of our bodies coming together is too loud in this quiet space, deafening, even if I know it’s just in my head.
He laughs as his fingers find my breasts again, cupping them with a possessive squeeze.
The noise he makes is bestial when he rolls my nipple.
My body is a lit fuse, and it’s only a matter of time until I explode.
Again.
Right on his bare, pumping cock.
His strokes come fiercer, lifting me off the bed before slamming me into it.
The coiled feeling in my core winds tighter with every thrust, making me a human spring.
By the feel of it, he must be as close as I am.
And his breath turns volcanic against my skin, rough kisses like the ground rumbling before the eruption.
“Margot, damn. Keep up, stay with me before I—” His voice chokes off in another guttural groan as I clench around his cock.
Yeah.
Yeah, I will.
I can’t say it, so I wrap my legs around his ass, moaning from the beautiful friction breaking me in two.
That’s all it takes.
Force and fire.
My climax slams up through my belly, and his hand covers my mouth, muffling my cries as he thrusts into me one last time.
His hips jackhammer, threatening to break the old bed as he pitches deeper, faster, baring his teeth like the lusting shadow he’s become.
I’m breaking apart, shattered and—
Coming!
I can’t blink.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t do anything but feel the deluge when it comes.
This white-hot release of heat and waves where we find eternity together.
The way his face screws up as he strikes my depths and unloads his soul.
We’re one silent scream, one wild chorus of breath and rattling bones.
We come together so good I truly think I died, because there’s no way I’m walking out of here the same woman.
For the longest time, we don’t move.
Time restarts and punches holes in my memory. It’s a little like being very drunk on the sweetest wine, only this high won’t leave a hangover.
I don’t remember flopping down on his chest, leaving a steaming mess between my legs.
His hand rests on the back of my neck, stroking me like a kitten.
My nails dig into the skin of his shoulder.
I’m not sure he even notices.
That was…
“Holy shit,” I whisper, giggling weakly.
“Holy shit,” he agrees. “Shower?”
“Please.”
There’s something adorably pragmatic about the way he helps me off the bed, touching me softly like he’s testing to see if I’m still in one piece. And the way he checks the hot water before sliding me under it.
And then, somehow, even though I really, really shouldn’t—I let him lead me back to his bed and pull me under the covers with him.
I don’t remember falling asleep.
We fuck again, a few more times until we’re slow and breathless, before sinking into the velvet darkness.