Chapter Thirteen #2
A drawer beside me opened and closed. Something dropped down on the counter near my hip, and Caymen fumbled with it for a moment, his gaze too fixed on me to pay attention to his task.
But then he was shifting back, pulling a condom foil up to his lips, and nipping the edge.
My core tightened.
And my gaze was helpless but to follow his hands as he quickly protected us before reaching for me again.
This time, it wasn’t the back of my neck; it was a hand closing around my throat.
Not tight enough to restrict my breathing, but tight enough to make me feel owned.
I’d never been so willing to submit before.
But before I could even analyze that, his lips were claiming mine again—hard, hungry, with no restraint to be found.
I kissed him back in kind.
Until my lips felt swollen.
Until my head felt floaty.
Until Caymen released my throat and stepped forward once again, letting me feel the press of him against me.
He rocked himself against my cleft, against my clit, stoking the flames of my need until my nails were scratching across his shoulders, until my moans started to sound ragged and pained.
Only then did he slip downward, pressing hard against the center of me for a long second, just long enough that I couldn’t prepare myself. Just when I thought it might never happen, his hips slammed inward, and I felt the thick stretch of him sliding deep inside me.
The sound that escaped me was choked.
Caymen cursed, low and feral as his forehead pressed to mine for a moment, seeking some self-control.
But I didn’t want that.
I wanted him just like this: wild, rough, unrestrained.
I wrapped my legs around him, using his hips for leverage as I started to rock against him.
“Noa…” he rumbled, his voice a warning. One I didn’t want. Didn’t need.
“Fuck me,” I demanded. “Now,” I said when he still hesitated.
That delicious rumble moved through him again as he pulled back.
His hand went behind my head, pressing at the crown, and I didn’t understand at first.
Not until he did what I demanded: fucked me.
Hard.
Uncontrolled.
Making my body jerk so hard I would have slammed my head into the counter over and over if he hadn’t protected me.
Somehow, even that fact had me getting even hotter, my walls clenching tight around him as he thrust, dragging another curse from deep inside Caymen’s chest.
His lips took mine again, the kiss as feral as the need that bled into every breath, every heartbeat.
Our bodies moved in sync until the rhythm fractured into something too reckless to match, leaving me clinging, clenching, crying out against his shoulder.
I’d been halfway gone before I even felt him inside me. So it was no surprise how quickly he pushed me toward the edge. Where the release crashed without mercy.
And I came, shaking, breathless, wrecked.
It wasn’t until I was wrapped around him, gasping into his neck that Caymen slammed deep, his body tensing, his breath catching, a soft curse on his lips as he came.
I couldn’t say how long we stayed just like that, bodies close—my face in his neck, his arm around my hip, his hand at the back of my neck.
But the sweat had dried and left a chill in its wake by the time we both pulled back.
For just a beat, our gazes held, something passing that I didn’t quite understand, something weighty and important.
Then he was sliding away from me and it was gone before I could figure out exactly what it could be.
He stepped away, opening the cabinet under the sink, and tossing the protection away.
“Wait,” I said, making his gaze glance over. “Where did the condom come from?”
He nodded toward the counter.
Where a box of condoms sat.
Not even just one of the small packs, either. He got one of the value boxes.
“When…”
“When you were debating the pros and cons of various snack cakes, I circled back and grabbed them. Had a feeling this was inevitable.”
He wasn’t wrong about that.
I was pretty sure I would have been crazy enough to sleep with him even if it turned out he was actually trying to kill me for losing his club’s shipment.
“Wait… are you bleeding?” I asked when he flicked on the tap and shoved his hands under the stream.
Sure enough, the water ran red, then pink, as he scrubbed at his broken knuckles.
“Oh my God, is that from the cabinet?”
The look he shot me would have melted my panties if I’d been wearing them.
“You like it rough, baby.”
He wasn’t wrong about that.
“Now go find some shoes.”
“Shoes?”
“They go on your feet, so they don’t get all roughed up.”
I rolled my eyes at him.
“I know what shoes are.”
“Then why aren’t you going to get some?”
“I’m not entirely sure my legs would carry me yet,” I admitted. “Go ahead,” I said as he fought the smirk. “You earned the cocky grin.”
He shot me it for a moment before turning away to go dig through my bag until he found a pair of flip-flops. Then he came over and put them on me, fixed my bodice, and jumped me down from the counter.
“So, you’re worried about my shoes. But you’re still naked.”
A little chuckle moved through him as he swatted my ass before turning around to give me a great view of his as he walked back to the bathroom.
He came back out wearing his same outfit from earlier.
“Come on. Let’s go hit the store before it gets too late.” He grabbed my purse but plucked my keys out of them. “You’re passenger princess this time.”
I always drove.
It was my thing.
But somehow, I was okay with him being the one behind the wheel just this once.