17. Chapter Seventeen #4
“No,” I correct softly, lips brushing the elegant curve of her shoulder, teeth grazing, marking, warning. “I built myself from fury. Pain was just the blade I sharpened it with.”
She shivers beneath the words, letting herself sink deeper into the ruthless grip of my truth. I can feel her surrender, taste it on her skin, sweet, warm, addictive. She’s gravity, and I’m willingly falling into her.
I drag my lips down the delicate ridge of her spine, lingering at each vertebra like it’s sacred, like every notch and hollow holds answers I’ve spent a lifetime hunting.
Her breath catches as my mouth trails lower, the small tremble of her body pulling me in closer, anchoring me in ways I can’t admit aloud.
My palms grip her hips, firm and possessive, steadying her for me, as I reach the small of her back.
Those perfect dimples, soft, shallow, beckon like a trap I’d willingly walk into, and I press an open-mouthed kiss there, savoring the warmth of her skin beneath my tongue. Slowly, deliberately, I drop to my knees behind her.
And suddenly, I’m eye-level with the most devastating sight imaginable.
Her glorious, heart-shaped ass, bare, flushed, impossibly perfect, waiting to be worshipped or fucked. Probably both. Definitely both.
My pulse pounds violently in my chest, every instinct primal, every thought feral.
“Fuck,” I breathe roughly, reverent and ruined. “The things I’m going to do to you.”
I part her slowly, deliberately, baring the most hidden, vulnerable part of her to the low golden light and the rumble of my breath. My chest tightens at the sight, at the fact that she’s letting me see her like this. Open. Exposed. Trusting.
I lower my mouth.
The first stroke of my tongue is slow. Deep. Designed to make her fall apart.
She gasps, the sound sharp and breathless.
Her hands grip the hood of the car tighter, knuckles whitening, head bowing as a shiver rolls through her.
I do it again, then again, until she’s moaning, raw and broken, her thighs trembling around my shoulders.
I taste her like a man starving, every flick and drag of my tongue possessive, hungry, unrelenting.
Her body clenches. Her hips buck. She gasps my name like it’s the only word she remembers.
When I finally rise, her legs are shaking, her breath coming in sharp, shallow bursts. I press my chest to her back, my hand sliding up her torso to cradle her throat gently not to restrain, just to ground her.
She expects me to take her one way. But I shift slightly. Nudge lower.
And still.
Her breath catches.
I wait.
Her silence is everything. Not hesitant. Not afraid. Just... aware.
Then, slowly, her hips shift backward…offering.
“Yes?” I whisper against her ear, voice strained, barely controlled.
She nods. Just once. A tiny movement. But it speaks volumes.
“I want all of you,” she says, breathless.
I groan, the sound guttural, reverent, wrecked. One hand guides me. The other anchors her. I press forward, inch by inch, easing into tight, uncharted heat that squeezes around me like a vice. The resistance is real, body and mind, but she doesn’t pull away.
She gasps. Her spine arches. Her lips part in a cry, but she doesn’t say stop.
I freeze, buried only partway inside her, every muscle in my body clenched tight. “You’re okay,” I whisper against her shoulder, kissing it softly. “Breathe for me, munequita.”
She nods again, shakily, fingers fisting on the cool metal.
I move deeper. Agonizingly slow.
She exhales on a sob, her body adjusting, stretching, accepting me. I wait for the tremble in her legs to steady, then begin to move, slow, shallow thrusts that let her feel every inch, every stretch, every burn.
“You’re doing so fucking good,” I murmur, voice hoarse, barely there. “So perfect. So tight.”
Camille
I don’t know how long I stay like this.
Bent over the hood of a million-dollar car, skin slick with sweat and steam, my body still shaking from the way he just consumed me. My cheek is pressed to the cool gloss of the Bugatti. My knees weak. My breath caught somewhere between a sob and a moan.
I’ve never…
No one’s ever…
He didn’t just eat me…there, he worshipped me.
Licked into me like I was an offering. Like that part of me wasn’t off-limits, but his.
And now?
Now I’m full of him.
Every inch of him.
He’s inside me, deep, and the sound he made when he slid in, when he realized I was already wet and trembling, will haunt me for the rest of my life.
He hasn’t moved.
One hand grips my hip like it’s his anchor. The other palms the curve of my ass, possessive and sure. I can feel his heart pounding against my back. His breath warm at my shoulder.
Then, slowly, so slowly I feel every nerve ending ignite, he starts to move.
Kane
She’s tight.
Slick.
Volcanic
Perfect.
Her breath is ragged, her body trembling, her palms flat on the hood heart shaped ass thrown back willing to take it…take me.
I thrust into her again, slow and deep. Not punishing.
Claiming.
She makes a noise, broken, desperate, like she’s unraveling beneath me, and I feel it everywhere. In my teeth. In my spine.
In my fucking soul.
“So full,” she breathes, wrecked. “Kane… it hurts… hurts so good…”
My hand slips up her back, down again, fingers digging into the curve of her ass as I lean over her, chest pressed to her slick spine, mouth at her ear.
“Yeah,” I growl, teeth scraping her skin, my voice nothing but heat and threat. “You love that pain, don’t you, Munequita?”
I push deeper, dragging her tighter onto my cock, my voice going rougher, filthier. “It’s not just your pussy that was made to take me. Not just your mouth, your throat. This ass, Camille…this tight fucking ass was built for me.”
She cries out, keening, grinding back into me, her nails squealing against the hood, searching for anything to hold onto.
“You’re perfection,” I snarl into her ear, fucking her harder now, deep and brutal and absolute. “A toy crafted for my sin, every fucking inch of you.”
My grip locks around her hips, unforgiving, dragging her back into every ruthless thrust as her body quakes beneath me, slick, desperate, struggling to handle the fullness of what I’m giving her.
She’s trembling now, muscles clenching, unraveling with every thrust, every obscene word I spit into her skin, every inch of cock stretching her open like she was created for this.
Her moans shift, raw, guttural, feral. She’s tipping, teetering right on the fucking edge, and I feel it in the way she tightens around me, the way her back bows like a bowstring pulled taut, her fingers clawing uselessly at the hood, searching for something to hold on to.
“Kane… oh god… Kane… Kane…”
It spills from her in broken gasps, breathy, shattered, wild. A chant. A plea. A worship.
My fucking name on loop, like she’s lost herself to it, to me, like I’ve rewired her body to only know one word, mine.
And fuck, I don’t slow down.
I fuck her harder. Rougher. Obscene sounds echo off glass and chrome as I drive into her without mercy, her voice unraveling, breath catching between every syllable of my name like she’s singing it straight from the wreckage of her soul.
This isn’t just fucking.
It’s ownership.
It’s addiction.
It’s permanent.
I drive into her one last time, hard and deep, burying myself to the hilt as I spill into her, hot, thick, brutal. My release hits like violence, like fire tearing through my veins as I grind into her, filling her so full she whimpers again, broken and perfect, collapsing beneath me.
I stay there, locked inside her, breath ragged, heart hammering against her back, hand splayed across her stomach like I need to hold her in place to keep from unraveling myself.
“You take every fucking drop,” I growl into her ear, possessive and low, hips rocking lazily now, drawing it out, milking the last aftershocks into her tight, ruined heat. “You don’t waste a fucking thing.”
She nods, trembling, her voice gone, wrecked beyond language.
And I fucking love it.
I stay buried inside her long after the shaking stops. Long after the world catches its breath.