Chapter 19 Home Sweet Heartache
HOME SWEET HEARTACHE (MARGOT)
Oh my God, we’ve been starved.
It’s like I’ve been fiending for his touch my entire life.
Kane watches me for a second, his eyes slitted, before bringing his lips to mine in another manic kiss.
Too much and not enough.
The truth can wait.
Raw, tangled emotions snarl on my bones as he drags me closer, closer, and still not close enough.
All I can do—the only thing I can—is cup my hand around the back of his neck and surrender.
Stay.
God, I didn’t realize how bad I just wanted him to ask me to stay.
He doesn’t even have to do it with words.
Not when this kiss is so potent and clear it leaves me dizzy.
It screams how much he wants me and how big of an idiot I am for trying to sneak out without a goodbye note.
His hard-on presses against my belly, an angry reminder.
I couldn’t truly know thirst until I felt his flood.
The heat, the urgency, the electric need zinging through my body.
I sigh as he cups my breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers.
He groans when I reach between us, running my fingers over the front of his shorts, feeling the punishment I deserve.
Thick and heavy and pulsing with promise.
Yes, we need this.
We need to lose our minds a little before this ends.
And if it does—when it does—at least let it fade with one more sweet memory.
One last soul-spinning send-off worthy of goodbye.
His greedy hand slides under my shirt and finds bare skin under my bra.
With a dark growl, he pulls with no mercy.
Buttons go flying.
Blouse, ruined.
But I can’t be mad.
I wrap my hands around his neck again and he understands what I want. He feels the intensity as his free hand finds my ass for support a split second before I jump.
Yes, I’m climbing this man like a tree.
My legs pinch his waist, and before I know what’s happening, my ruined shirt is on the floor.
The cool morning air pulses against my skin, and he flicks open my bra clasp.
I’m liquid now.
So clumsy from the lust storming my veins.
Neither of us needs to say another word as he turns, carries me to the pantry, and throws me against the wall.
His hands go to work, tearing off my slacks.
A second later, there’s nothing between us except his shorts and my thin, soaked panties.
“Fuck, duchess,” he rasps against my mouth.
“Now,” I plead.
“Now.” He squeezes my wet pussy.
I almost combust.
Kane’s breath comes muffled, heavy as black smoke pressed into my hair, and I arch into him.
Now, now.
Destroy me, now.
The bed upstairs feels like it’s on another continent.
I can’t bear to wait that long.
I need him in me, filling me, looting me and inflicting the sweetest insanity.
It’s the kind of need I’ve never felt before, this fever bordering on desperation.
If I ever had any control, it’s gone in a kiss.
And with Kane, I don’t think I do.
“Stay. Right the fuck there,” he mutters, shoving my panties to one side.
I nod, gripping his hair, panting.
“Do you have any clue, Margot? Any earthly idea how crazy you make me?” he whispers.
Then his fingers push inside me, delivering an answer.
I gasp, still pressed against the wall, rapidly losing my mind.
Another kiss smothers my moans.
So good, but still not enough.
His hands grab my ass, kneading and squeezing, imprinting his fingers on my flesh.
He shakes me like a doll with a feral growl before turning me over and hoisting me across the room.
When I blink, I’m sitting on the counter.
“Better leverage. Plus, I won’t knock a duchess-sized hole in the wall,” he explains.
I nod again, leaning back slightly, bracing myself on my hands.
“Please,” I whisper, shaking to my core. My legs fall open. “Please, Kane.”
He’s already shucking off his shorts, and his single-minded cock springs free, swollen and ready, veins tracing its landscape like lightning in the sky.
The bead of thick moisture at his slit makes me smile, knowing how undone he is.
“No clue. No fucking clue what you do to me, woman,” he says, his eyes burning me down as he mounts me and pushes inside.
Foly huck!
We both become instinct, inhuman, just two gasping shadows spiraling into ecstasy.
Quiet, quiet.
I remember at the last second we need to be quiet. There’s no guarantee we’ll be alone if the kids wake up, and we need to hear them coming before they catch us.
But it’s always the same when he claims me, that fullness of being stretched until it almost hurts so deliciously.
Full, so full.
So joined.
So owned.
I love his cock too much for my own good.
“Good girl.” His words rattle like broken glass now as he pulls back and thrusts inside again.
Soon, he’s going faster, harder, pressing his forehead against mine, bringing the thunder, the wind, the destruction.
One breath.
Delirious with lust.
But his thumb seals my bottom lip, a reminder to shut it and be careful.
Oh, but I can’t.
Not with him pounding me like this—not even if I want to.
“Kane!” I shudder around him.
Snarling, he pulls me closer, closer, burying my face against his shoulder, marking the back of my neck with his teeth.
I bite him back, branding him in turn.
He claws my hip in retaliation, though we’re too far gone to remember anything except the need to keep it down.
I’m going to come faster and harder than I have in my life.
“Too fucking good,” he grinds out.
“So good.” I hold on tighter.
“You’re going to break for me, duchess.”
“Yes.” I don’t have another word to tell him how much I want that. I want everything right now and it’s terrifying. “Please, Kane. Please!”
“That’s right, baby.” He sounds disembodied, more animal than man.
We’re that mindless, getting high off the other, lost in the sensation, overwhelmingly sinful and desperate.
He’s desperate, too, I can feel it.
The heat gathers, my orgasm pulling tight.
“Quiet,” he warns, shifting us so his hand is over my mouth as he picks up speed.
A good thing too, or I wouldn’t be able to hold in my cries.
My eyes roll back as the wave crests, picks me up, and hurls me down again like a giant chucking a stone.
To call it an approaching orgasm would be an insult.
This is unlike any sex I’ve ever had.
On the edge, sharp, needy in a way that kills me.
“I’m going to—” I don’t have time to finish before it hits full force.
Coming!
The wave sweeps in, blasting my entire being, making me one with the current.
I shudder against him as I convulse, my loud moans stifled against his palm as he fucks me through it, his eyes sharp as he admires me.
And he slows, tender again, just enough for me to recover right before he picks up the devil’s speed.
I hold on, fingers white and nails digging into his skin, staring down at his cock pounding me, and then his face, jagged with strain.
His mouth splits open and his face screws up in a silent, strangled roar.
Just before he finishes, his eyes flick to mine.
Perfect green, alive and primal.
Then he’s a mountain falling down.
His jaw clenches so he doesn’t make a sound, and he’s so deep inside me I can feel his throb, his heartbeat, his unforgiving heat.
Ohhh, shit.
The flood.
The magma flow.
The eruption, his seed all lava as it overflows my pussy and runs out between us.
His grip bruises my hip, trying to draw me closer, though there’s nowhere to go with him bottomed out as he empties his balls deep inside me.
I wrap my arms around him and hold on tight.
“Fuck,” he says hoarsely.
An entire universe in one gravel word.
I press my face against his chest.
He smells like cologne and Kane and forbidden sex.
I think I’m still trembling.
His hand brushes my hair. “You good?”
“I… I think so.”
He tilts my head back so he can kiss me. “We should clean up. Hurry.”
“You mean before we have company?”
“I mean your bags, duchess. I really don’t want them to see them. I’ll take them up while you fix yourself.” He kisses me again, slowly and thoroughly.
Just like that, it’s decided.
I’ll stay because I can’t imagine doing anything else.
“Can you walk to the shower?”
“Y-yeah. I just need a minute,” I say, half laughing.
“No time.”
The next thing I know, he’s pulled out, thrown his shorts on, and he’s shuttling me upstairs in his arms. I laugh against his chest.
“I’ll go back for the bags in a minute,” he tells me quietly. “I don’t want you going anywhere. We still need to talk.”
“I won’t.”
He puts me gently down in the bathroom.
He brushes my hair back from my face with a tenderness that’s not exactly new but still makes my chest ache. Even though he told me what he wants, I know he’ll respect my decision.
If, after he tells me everything, I still want to leave, he’ll let me go. No question.
This morning, after crying half the night, I thought for sure I had to leave. I thought it was my only real adult decision.
Now, in his arms, I can’t escape the glaring fact that it’s the last thing I want.
Cutting him short just means hacking up our hearts, and if they’re going to hurt, it should only happen naturally.
The steamy shower chases away all the bad thoughts that followed me upstairs.
Kane joins me after pulling my luggage back up. He takes the bar of soap and washes me in a way that feels reverent.
“So, breakfast might be late today,” I say as he massages soap bubbles into my chest.
“Yeah,” he says. “Worth it, though.”
“Better hope the kids agree.”
“They’ll barely notice.” He brushes my wet hair back from my face and maneuvers himself so he’s standing under the blast. I take the soap from him and start rubbing it across his tan skin.
Broad shoulders, firm pecs, and ridges forming a six-pack. Or maybe it’s an eight-pack?
I count them as I go, letting my fingers trace his ridges and valleys.
Yeah, definitely eight bullets in this human gun.
I’ve hooked up with men who were built before, sure, but they spent half their lives in the gym.
Body sculpting was their life.
For Kane, it’s just who he was. The warrior he still is at heart.
I love that.
“I’m sorry,” he says as I wash his neck.