Chapter Twenty-Two Karmen
His lips stake their claim in a brutal kiss.
Demanding.
Grounding.
A promise that whatever was stolen from me in the past, the present is mine by choice.
I meet his kiss with the same intensity, all my pent-up emotions, the ones I’m struggling to convey, pouring into the space between us.
My back meets the wall, one hand firm on my hip, while the other closes around the front of my throat, and the possessiveness of his touch settles me.
My anger softens into need with each press of his fingers into my heated skin and the slide of his hot tongue against mine.
“Benson, please,” I beg, clutching the front of his shirt to pull him closer. He lifts me off my feet, carrying me down the hall to the bedroom, and places me on my feet at the foot of the bed.
My body ignites at the steel in his voice.
Yes, my mind screams. This is exactly what I need.
“Do you remember your safe word?” he asks, his deep, steady voice causing goosebumps to pebble across my heated flesh.
I nod, biting my lower lip.
“Say it,” he orders.
“Pink.”
He grins.
A color I once despised until I met him.
He undresses me. First, my top and bra, then my jeans and panties, leaving me completely bare before him. When he stands back up to his full height, his eyes are filled with dark hunger.
“On the bed,” he orders, his deep voice rough. “I want that pretty ass up in the air.”
I can’t move fast enough, desperate for him to take control of my body and release my mind from its cage. I don’t want to think about anything but being in this moment with him.
I settle into position, resting my cheek against the soft comforter, my ass on full display just as he commanded.
I feel exposed.
Vulnerable.
Safe.
My core clenches tight, wetness slicking between my thighs.
My breathing becomes ragged as I wait. Short bursts of air rush past my trembling lips in anticipation.
I hear the rustling of clothes, the clink of his belt buckle.
Then a few moments later, I feel the bed dip, and he’s behind me, his large, warm hands smoothing over my backside.
His touch settles over me like a warm blanket.
“Breathe,” he commands, still rubbing my behind.
Closing my eyes, I take a few calming breaths.
“Good girl.”
I revel in his praise, my body relaxing beneath his expert touch.
The first blows are light, a bee sting buzzing across my heated flesh, hitting each cheek in succession, building and growing hotter with each one.
He pauses, smoothing his hands over my heated skin.
I remain silent and still, my heart thundering in my chest. He runs his fingers through my drenched pussy, gathering up my wetness before plunging two fingers deep inside me.
I cry out as he finger fucks me slowly, dragging me closer to the edge, the orgasm just within reach, before he draws them out and lands one hard blow after another across my tortured ass.
I absorb the burn, the bee sting bleeding into a white-hot pain that collars me.
With each deliberate blow, my mind empties.
My heart bleeds.
My soul drains.
He blesses me with a release that I desperately crave.
Tears build in my eyes, emotions wracking my body as they flood my system in a release that threatens to ruin me, but it’s the best kind of ruin. His masterful hands know exactly what I need.
“Thank you” is all I can manage between my sobs.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
And for the first time since the truth came crashing down on me, I don’t feel lost.
I feel found.