Chapter 12 Little Taste Of Home （Kane）
LITTLE TASTE OF HOME (KANE)
Istartle awake after sunrise, the light streaming in through a slit in the curtains.
It’s the first time I’ve slept in for—damn, it must be years.
Hardly surprising after the night I had.
A man doesn’t have his soul exit his body along with his balls very often.
Even wilder, I slept like the dead while sharing my bed with a strange woman for the first time in a decade.
It shouldn’t be this easy.
It shouldn’t be this dangerous.
Margot’s still half-conked out, too, all curled against my chest like she doesn’t think anything of staying the night.
Greed overwhelms me when I see this woman in my arms.
Especially when I see her like this, with her hair slightly wavy around her face, loose and tangled in a gold cloud, her eyes peaceful.
She looks too innocent after the way I fucked her last night. Too sweet to be the same girl I defiled.
Getting up a couple times last night to carry the kids off to bed and check on them was hard enough.
Just because I had a good time doesn’t mean I let my duty slip by. I made the rounds alone, checking the whole house, the locks, the windows, and they were all good.
Now, I’m boneless, awestruck and yes, a little scared.
What the fuck was last night?
There are no words.
She stirs, stretching like a kitten waking up from a nap. Her eyes flutter open, and I see it when she remembers where she is.
What she’s doing.
Who she’s with.
Her palm flattens against my chest and her fingers curl.
“Hey, you,” she whispers, glancing up at me with a soft smile.
Is there any hesitation? Or is it just my scrambled imagination?
It would’ve been more sensible to part ways after the gravity-defying sex.
Only, what started in the hot tub and continued in bed kept going like an abandoned fire.
Slow, lazy, half-asleep sex.
Like our bodies instinctively knew what they wanted better than our heads, ignoring our brains when they were dizzy and tired.
“Hey, yourself,” I say.
Her voice is scratchy with sleep as she says, “So.”
“So.”
“Last night got a little heated.”
Fucking. Understatement.
A flashback of her little hand on my cock in the hot tub and then upstairs, later replaced with her mouth, zings through me like an arrow.
The way she wrapped her legs around me and held on for dear life.
The tiny sounds she made when she bit me, sinking her teeth into my shoulder, begging me to hurl my seed deep.
Never did I think I’d have my first hookup after the divorce unprotected.
Goddamn, Margot Blackthorn must’ve driven me insane. The only explanation.
Still, after we were sated, there was no way I could send her back to her room.
“Well, let’s hear it,” she whispers softly, still not looking at me. “How much do you regret last night?”
“Regret?”
“Scale of one to ten. Please don’t say eleven.” She holds up her crossed fingers with a pleading look.
Shit.
“How’s this?”
I roll her over until she’s under me.
Her blue eyes flare when she feels my cock.
Yes, I’m hard already, and she shifts against me.
Eager. Ready. Aching to be reclaimed.
I fucking love how obsessed she is, even if the shared addiction worries me.
“Kane—”
“Woman, stop. Let me give you your answer. Does this look like regret to you? Does this feel like I have the faintest second thought?” I kiss her deeply, pressing my hard-on against her belly.
She meets me halfway with a languid moan, wrapping her arms around my neck.
“Oh. Oh, thank God!” she hisses against my mouth. “I was afraid you’d wake up and tell me we made a huge mistake. You know, just like the kiss.”
That would be the sensible thing, yes.
But my senses turn to ash when I feel her tongue flick over my bottom lip and the way her legs open to welcome me.
“That would be the rational, adult move,” I say.
“But we’re not doing it.”
“No. Frankly, I’m too crazy for that grown-up levelheaded shit. I’m stuck thinking about all the ways I need to touch you,” I say.
It doesn’t feel real, even when she’s under my skin.
“You’re in luck. I need to be touched.” She arches against me, her breasts flush against my chest.
“See, what idiot could resist that invitation?” I bite her lip until she gasps.
Fuck, she’s so soft, so eager.
I knew that already—knew she’d be the perfect mix of toned and feminine cloud—her belly soft and her perfect tits spilling out of my hands, nipples ready to be smothered with my tongue.
“Fuck, duchess.”
“That’s the plan,” she whispers, and I laugh.
Then my dick slides between the slick folds of her pussy without an ounce of humor.
For a second, neither of us speaks.
I’m too busy trying to hold back my inner bull, and her hands are on my arms, gripping so tightly.
“I’m sorry I didn’t leave last night.”
“No way.” I silence her with a kiss. “No damn way am I letting you sleep in your own room after this.”
“…if you do that, we won’t sleep at all. And the kids might find out.”
“If it happens, it happens.” I crane my neck down, sucking one of those greedy nipples into my mouth. The way she arches and moans makes my dick jerk. “Quiet,” I whisper, watching as she pushes the back of her fist into her mouth, eyes fluttering shut.
I’ve never been so glad this house has such thick walls and old wooden doors. Just enough sound barrier between our revelry and prying little ears.
I grind against her again, half-mad to be inside her.
It’s like I’ve reverted to eighteen again.
This must be the fourth time I’m about to fuck her in under ten hours, and my dick is a steel pipe.
Maybe all the months of stress and nothing but my hand under a cold shower left me that deprived.
Or maybe it’s just the black magic spell Margot Blackthorn has me under.
“You feel so fucking good,” I rasp.
“I hope so.” She tilts her hips, giving me a sly, desperate look I can’t possibly deny.
Enough.
My cock pushes into her desperate little cunt.
And my whole body tenses with pleasure, loving how her eyes go wide with delight.
“How are you this tight? You kill me,” I grind out, giving a long, slow thrust to open her up.
I love how we have to work to make her little pussy accommodate my size.
Almost as much as I love her grip, the way she wrings me out, pulling every drop of come from my balls.
Her head falls back in the pillows, her hair a splash of haloed sunshine.
“Right there!” she breathes, urging me on.
“Yeah? You like being fucked this hard? You like coming on this cock?” I roll her nipple between my fingers until she clenches, so good and tight I see stars.
“Yes!”
My hips roll, working faster and deeper.
My pubic bone hits her clit, pushing her on to the sweetest apocalypse.
Growling, I grab her chin and tilt her face up until she gives me those sapphire blue eyes.
“Tell me what you want, baby, and you’ll get it. You’ll take it, good girl, real sweet for me. I know you’ll be so fucking good for this cock.”
“Y-yes! I will,” she whimpers. “So good, Kane. Anything you want.”
I do want.
So many things.
There are so many awful, indecent things I want to do with her.
But for now, we just fuck, knowing this has to be quick and discreet because the kids will be up in half an hour or so.
Getting involved was a terrible idea—a stupid damn move—but not because it’s bound to complicate everything.
Because now all I want is to take her on every surface and beat her pussy to kingdom come.
Because I want to hear my name on her lips like a prayer.
Because I’m addicted to this girl, and every taste leaves me fiending more, burning to mark her down to the soul.
I thought I was beyond this high school bravado shit.
I thought being a thirty-something dad means you don’t get in this deep with a woman anymore.
I figured a man calmed down with age and experience, shedding his carnal obsessions and psychotic sexy thoughts.
In one night, she blew that to pieces, scattering everything I thought I knew as a single dad who lives responsibly to the four winds.
Just like the way she’s demolishing me right now, her pussy wrapped around my cock, pulling the pleasure out of me every time I thrust deep.
I catch her scream against my hand just in time, and she convulses, pouring raging fire up my spine.
I come so fucking hard I think I’m inside out.
I spill my nut in this woman and face-plant on eternity itself.
No, this isn’t regret.
Not even close.
Sully Bay isn’t a big place, but it’s lively enough to keep the kids entertained.
After we reluctantly pried ourselves off the bed and cleaned up, the kids were already downstairs, clamoring to go back into town.
It’s not a bad suggestion when they’ll both get homework credit for the educational sites around the town.
Also not a bad way to help us pretend there’s nothing different going on.
Yeah, good fucking luck.
Still, there’s a small fishing museum and a historic lighthouse just up the road from the main town. They’re perfect to keep the kids busy and make sure they learn a thing or two about old Maine’s history.
There’s something reassuring about taking in over two hundred years’ worth of pioneering struggle to tame this stretch of coast.
Proof that human ingenuity overcomes any uncertainty.
I hope to hell I can be so wise.
This isn’t the most stable period for us after my bad marriage was just put out of its misery not that long ago, but I’m not letting their education slip.
I’ll never let them think their father puts anything else first, including a young woman who’s very good at making him a total jackass.
Margot’s eager to accompany us, and I wonder what’s going on in her head. She stares outside the window on the drive up like she’s never seen this shore before.
“This is nice. We used to spend so much time at the house when we’d come up as kids,” she says as we head to the lighthouse.
It was built in the nineteenth century. Unlike the famous Portland Headlight, it’s ugly, grey, and squat.
“Not even at the diner?” Dan sounds mortified. As far as he’s concerned, it’s the beating heart of the town.