16. Chapter Sixteen #2
My cheeks burn hot, and I duck my head, refusing to let him see exactly how much he affects me. But he already knows, he always does. Sitting here in nothing but his shirt, bare beneath thin black fabric, feels more like myself than anything else I’ve worn.
More like I’m already his.
Outside the jet window, darkness rushes past, city lights flickering beneath us. Miami feels closer now, a storm on the horizon I’m not ready for.
The cabin lights dim, leaving us wrapped in shadows, the hum of the engines blending with the tension lingering thick and unspoken between us.
Kane’s hand hasn’t moved from my thigh in over an hour, but his touch grows more dangerous, more deliberate, fingertips dipping lower beneath the shirt’s edge with each passing minute.
Testing. Teasing. Torturing.
I shift restlessly, stretching my legs across his lap, my voice dropping low, edged with teasing accusation. “You’re not playing fair.”
His gaze slides up, dark lashes hooded, unhurried as his palm drags upward, slow enough to ignite sparks along every inch of skin he touches. He knows exactly what he's doing, tracing paths he's already mapped, territory he already owns. My nerves hum, drawn taut, desperate for more.
“I never said I would.”
The words slip from his lips effortlessly, quiet and dangerous. My breath catches sharply, my hips lifting instinctively toward his touch, chasing relief he deliberately withholds. His fingertips pause right there, at the trembling brink between torment and relief.
“If I didn’t know any better,” I whisper, my pulse a wild rhythm beneath my skin, “I’d swear you were addicted to sex.”
A slow, predatory smirk curls his lips as he leans closer, breath warm against my ear. His voice drops even deeper, a husky rasp that sinks right through my chest, pulling at something primal and reckless within me.
“No, hermosa,” he murmurs, rough and possessive. “I’m addicted to you.”
His lips graze my jaw, sending a shiver racing down my spine. I freeze, pinned beneath the ruthless intimacy of his words, caught up in utter surrender.
“I’m addicted to your mind, the ruthless way you think, how you dissect every conversation like you're playing chess with the devil himself. I’m addicted to how deeply you feel things, even when it leaves you shattered and raw.”
His thumb begins to circle slowly, purposefully, against the delicate ache at the center of my need, drawing a low, helpless sound from my throat.
“I’m addicted to the way your breath hitches when I bury myself inside you,” he growls, his voice breaking with barely restrained hunger. “To that single moment when your pride finally crumbles, and you admit to yourself, and to me, just how desperately you want this. How badly you need me.”
His thumb presses harder, and my thighs quiver, my entire body pulled tight with brutal anticipation.
“I could fuck you until time folds in on itself and still wake up starving, Camille, because your taste has embedded itself into my very bones. Every strand of my DNA is marked by you.”
His mouth drifts lower, teeth grazing my throat, hot breath branding my skin.
“And if that makes me an addict,” he whispers, dark and relentless, his smirk deepening into something savage against my pulse, “then you’re my overdose, princesa. And I’ll keep chasing the high until you fucking kill me.”
A breath passes between us. Heavy. Final.
“Now,” he adds, gaze flicking down to my thighs, voice warming with something darker, “You, nearly naked on my jet gets you fucked.”
“I was hoping for a nap.”
His mouth curves darkly, wickedly. “Nap later, you get fucked now.”
He presses two fingers between my thighs, just enough friction to tear a gasp from my throat.
“You’re already wet,” he murmurs, voice low, taunting. “Look at that…I did this.”
I shoot him a heated glare, cheeks flaming. “You’re insufferable.”
He drags his fingertips back and forth slowly, deliberately, making my hips twitch helplessly beneath his touch. My breathing grows uneven, pulse hammering louder with every stroke.
“Kane…” My gaze flickers nervously toward the cockpit. “What if Joaquin…”
“He’s busy flying,” Kane interrupts, leaning forward until his lips brush against the pulse point in my throat. His teeth graze gently, sending sparks racing down my spine. “And even if we crash, Camille, I swear you’ll come before we hit the ground.”
A strangled laugh, half-gasp, half-moan, escapes me. “Cocky.”
His eyes burn into mine, dark and devastating. “But I always deliver.”
Without another word, he lifts me effortlessly, pulling me onto his lap. His grip is unyielding, possessive, anchoring me to the heat and hardness of him pressing urgently between my legs.
His mouth slams onto mine, devouring every gasp, every moan, every single thing I have left to offer. We kiss like we’re starving, desperate to consume and be consumed, wild and reckless enough to burn the whole fucking plane down.
His hand slips between us, fingers sliding expertly through my wetness, stroking, circling, dragging a ragged moan from deep inside me. My hips grind down, chasing friction, desperate for more, needing him deeper, rougher, now.
“Kane…” My voice splinters on his name.
“Shh,” he murmurs roughly, sliding his fingers up again, slow and deliberate. “Not yet.”
Then his hand moves away abruptly, and before I can protest, he brings those same fingers to my lips.
“Open,” he commands softly, voice dark, eyes locked onto mine, daring me to obey.
I part my lips instantly, no hesitation, no shame.
I take his fingers into my mouth, tasting myself, warm, slick, sinful.
My tongue wraps around him, licking slowly, deliberately.
Sucking gently, I hold his stare, refusing to break eye contact even as my cheeks flush hot and my pulse pounds wildly beneath my skin.
His thumb brushes over my lower lip, pressing lightly, and I pause, waiting, trembling in anticipation.
“Good girl,” Kane whispers, voice thick with approval, with possession. He watches intently as I suck his fingers deeper, tasting my own need on him, my tongue sliding over his skin slowly, deliberately, shamelessly.
Something raw and primal flares behind his eyes.
He pulls his fingers from my mouth, sliding his thumb roughly across my lower lip, my wetness there like a filthy promise.
He leans forward, pressing his forehead to mine, our breaths mixing hot and desperate.
“You taste that, Camille?” His voice is dark, soft, but utterly ruthless.
“That melted, honeyed desire? That’s what I drink when I eat you.
” His thumb presses firmer, slipping just inside my mouth, forcing me to take more of him, more of myself.
“Every time you’re beneath me, every time you break open for me, this is what I’m chasing.
The way you drip for me, the way you surrender…
“ His voice trails off, heavy, dangerous, possessive. “You’re my sweetest addiction, munequita. My favorite way to lose control.” He licks my lips, taking the last trace of my surrender.
I shiver, breath catching as his words sear through me.
“More,” I whisper, licking my lips, tasting myself shamelessly, watching his eyes ignite.
He growls softly, eyes black with hunger. His fingers tighten around my hips, lifting me slightly before settling me firmly over the hard, straining length of him. Slowly, torturously, he slides me along his cock, letting me feel every thick inch, every agonizing pulse through his pants.
I gasp, nails digging into his shoulders, desperate for friction, for contact, for him.
His mouth finds my throat, teeth scraping against delicate skin, biting just enough to leave a mark, a bruise I’ll remember for days. “Tell me who owns this pussy,” he demands, voice ragged, raw, barely restrained.
“You,” I moan helplessly, grinding myself down against him, thighs trembling. “Only you.”
His eyes flash with dark approval, and in one swift movement, he frees himself, hot, heavy, and thick against my entrance. He doesn’t tease, doesn’t wait, just thrusts upward, filling me brutally, completely, exactly how I need him.
I cry out sharply, arching into him, overwhelmed by the harsh, perfect stretch of him deep inside me.
“Fuck,” Kane growls, fingers digging into my hips, guiding me up and down, setting a relentless, punishing rhythm. “Feel how perfect you take me, Camille.”
My hands slide up, tangling in his hair, gripping tight as I move against him, losing myself to the sensation. Every stroke is rough, merciless, branding pleasure and pain deep beneath my skin. His mouth claims mine again, tongue ruthless, tasting every desperate sound that escapes me.
“Harder,” I breathe, hips rolling shamelessly against him, chasing the friction, the heat, the brutal ache he’s stirring inside me.
He smirks against my lips, voice rough, edged with something dark. “Greedy.”
His thumb presses firmly between us, circling my swollen clit with ruthless precision, pulling a desperate moan from deep in my chest. My body tightens around him, trembling, breaking apart beneath his touch.
“Don’t stop,” I beg, voice shattering, fingers digging into his shoulders, holding on like he’s the only thing left keeping me from spinning off this earth.
He thrusts deeper, rougher, relentless, his rhythm fierce and punishing, every movement a challenge, a claim. He’s determined to wreck me, and I’m letting him, willingly, eagerly.
“You gonna come for me, Camille?” he growls, voice thick, territorial, consuming me whole.
I nod frantically, words beyond me, my surrender absolute. He smiles darkly, driving harder, deeper, thumb never stopping its tormenting rhythm.
And just before the thrust that’ll ruin me, he leans in close, breath hot against my ear, voice a dangerous caress…
“Mírame, cielo. Estás perfecta así. Tan jodidamente mía.”
Look at me, heaven. You’re perfect like this. So fucking mine.
That does it. I break apart, shatter violently, body jerking uncontrollably as pleasure rips through me like fire. I come hard, fierce, sobbing his name, my nails scoring down his back as he fucks me straight through it, relentless, brutal, unyielding.
He groans roughly into my shoulder, hips bucking hard, following me over that same reckless edge. He spills into me hot and deep, a raw, primal growl vibrating through his chest, marking me from the inside out.
We stay tangled together, bodies shaking, chests heaving, breaths mingling as we cling to each other. His fingers trail lazily up and down my spine, like he’s memorizing every tremble, every scar, every shuddering breath.
I shift slightly, still impaled on him, still pulsing with aftershocks. Kane groans softly against my temple, grip tightening around my waist. “Don’t move,” he mutters roughly. “I want you just like this.”
I roll my eyes, smiling softly against his throat. “Is that your ego or your dick talking?”
He chuckles low, dark and rich. “Both. But mostly me.”
I curl closer, tucking myself deeper into his embrace. My heart still hammers wildly, but I whisper against his skin, “This’ll make one hell of a first impression, no panties, jet hair, thoroughly ruined.”
Kane smirks lazily, lips brushing the corner of my mouth. “You think Diego’s wife cares about your hair? She’ll probably pour you tequila and ask how many times I made you scream.”
I swat his chest, face burning hot. “Kane!”
He grins shamelessly, eyes dancing. “What? You think I don’t talk to my family?”
“I think you should stop talking before I die of embarrassment.”
He kisses my shoulder softly, murmuring, “You look fucking perfect in jet hair and no panties. Might make this your official travel uniform.”
“You’re insane.”
He pauses, smile fading into something quieter, raw and achingly honest. “I’m in love with you.”
It hits me like a fist to the heart. Breath stolen, body frozen, heart slamming violently against my ribs. He doesn’t look at me when he says it, doesn’t wait for a response. He just tightens his arms around me, holding me fiercely, protectively.
He didn’t say it to hear it back. He said it because it’s the truth. Because it’s always been the truth.
I press my lips softly to his jaw, whispering into his skin, “I love you, too.”
His breath catches sharply, hands tightening around me like he’ll never let go again.
By the time the plane touches down, I’ve found my panties somewhere beneath the seat and managed to piece together what’s left of my dignity. But as the skyline of Miami rises into view, my stomach knots fiercely, nerves coiling tighter with each passing moment.
Palm trees. Heat. The tense, lethal posture of Kane beside me.
Because Miami isn’t just a city. It’s his city…full of darkness, danger, secrets that breed monsters and devour innocence.
And I’m stepping into it with his marks on my skin, his love written all over me, his family waiting just beyond the tarmac.
I reach instinctively for his hand as we descend the steps.
He takes it without hesitation, fingers threading tightly with mine.
And suddenly I know, without a doubt, whatever hell awaits us here, we’ll face it together…
End Part I