36
Luna
“You think he got the message and will back off now?” A sly smile tugs at my lips as I lick away his salty taste.
“What message, Luciana?”
“That I’m not available. That we’re . . . together.”
Cade’s eyes darken as he reaches down, his thumb wiping a stray drop of cum from my chin, then stroking it along my lower lip before cradling my face in his hand. For a moment, I forget to breathe.
“Scar got the message the moment I pinned you to the pick-up,” Cade murmurs.
“Nah, I don’t think so. Not with the way he was acting.”
Scar seemed nice and playful and with that mysterious edge of psycho. But he was also deeply attracted to me and surprisingly bold about it.
He’s the kind of man that would have held my interest—a lifetime ago. But no, he didn’t act like I was exclusive to his friend and partner.
Cade’s fingers tense slightly on my face, his gaze flickering with something I can’t quite name. “Trust me, he knew from the moment he saw us outside. Because I never start without him.”
“Eew.” I jerk my face back and wrinkle my nose as the pieces click uncomfortably into place. The way Scar looked at me earlier, how he encroached on my space as if entitled to it—suddenly makes sense. They shared everything, including women. “That’s disgusting.”
“Yeah, I know, we’re fucked up.” Cade flashes me an infuriating grin as he pulls me to my feet. “Mindblowing as that was, it was massive overkill.”
I smirk, trying to claw back some control. “Well, I there’s no harm in rubbing it in. Besides, you were seething with jealousy.”
His fingers clamp around my jaw hard enough to make my breath hitch. “You took off your top, Luciana. You were seconds away from baring your tits for him.”
Of course. I knew he’d hate that.
I meet his stare head-on. “I didn’t do it for him. I did it to hurry along that decision you were wrestling with. Scar just happened to be a spectator.”
His irises seem to glow, a warning sign he’s getting annoyed. “A spectator, huh? Tell me, did you suck me off because you loved it, or because you needed to prove a point to our ‘spectator’?”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t know, Caden. Why don’t you check for yourself, see if I enjoyed it?”
The challenge hangs between us, and then he’s carrying me to the couch. He bends me over the back of it. Holding me down with a fore arm, he strips off my boots, jeans, and panties with the other.
I moan at the first touch of cool air against my wet folds and spread my legs, tilting my hips up, waiting for his exploring fingers.
Which is why the first stinging blow on my ass catches me completely off guard.
“Cade, what the hell—”
Smack!
The sharp sting floods me with sensation, and I gasp, instinctively trying to straighten, but his forearm keeps me pinned. When the next blow lands, tears sting my eyes—hot, humiliating. Yet, shame isn’t what spreads between my thighs.
“Tell me to stop, and I will.”
“You’re an ass—ah!” Another crack against my flesh.
Something deeper than pain loosens my irritation. My fingers dig into the cushions as my breaths come faster.
The next slap is harder and pulls an unbidden whimper from my throat. His palm connecting to my ass, the sounds, the heat, all trigger a feeling between pleasure and pain, between power and humiliation that’s hard to describe.
His finger traces my slick folds until I’m moaning shamelessly, and then another sharp crack meets my skin.
Cade leans over me, his voice a wicked growl. “My beautiful slut. Do you hear how wet you are?”
“Fuck you,” I sob.
“I intend to. After I’ve turned this ass a raging red. You want more?”
Yes. Fuck Yes. I want you to hurt me. To make me cry. Because giving you that control feels so fucking good.
My chest tightens as I try to make sense of what’s happening to me .
“Luciana, do you want more?”
I shake my head, but my body screams the truth.
“No?” His fingers skim over my soaked folds, gathering evidence. “Yet here you are . . . ass red and dripping like a fucking meal.”
I moan and spread my legs wider, wordlessly asking him to do it.
Cade growls, and then his palm lands right on my sex. I cry out, arching into the sensation as a thick finger strokes along my slit until I’m squirming.
“What do you want, Luciana? Tell me,” he commands, his finger drawing a perfect circle around my clit.
I want him just as wrecked as me. No—I want more. A thought breaks through my defenses, raw and fierce.
“Je veux te posséder,” I whisper.
Cade freezes. For a heartbeat, silence fills the room. Then he chuckles, low and dark, his voice threading with amusement and danger. “Ah. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby? To own me.”
My eyes snap open, heat flooding my cheeks. I didn’t know he spoke French. His laugh deepens as he savors my shock.
The connection between us snaps tighter. It’s more than control, deeper than desire. It’s an undeniable understanding stripping us both bare. Suddenly, he steps away.
“Cade,” I breathe. “Don’t stop. I need you—”
His grip on my hips is like iron as he holds me in place, and I find he’s pulled down his pants. “Stop? I’m just getting started, baby.”
Memories of being filled to bursting flood my mind, making my muscles tense with anticipation.
His hard length presses against my entrance, stretching me in a way that’s both painful and pleasurable, tearing another moan from me.
And then, in a single hard thrust, he sinks balls deep
My back arches. “Ah, fuck! Cade. Wait, it’s too deep—”
“Shut up and take me, Luciana,” he commands, pinning me flush against the couch. He pulls out almost completely before slamming back in. I cry out as he bottoms out inside me, every thick inch claiming me.
His hands grip my waist, pulling me back into each thrust with brutal force. I moan, relishing being taken completely, drowning in the filthy sounds of his pleasure. His growls turn primal as he drives deeper and harder, making me cry out with every stroke.
Cade spreads my stinging ass cheeks open, and he stares as he continues to thrust. My world narrows to this moment, to this man fucking me into oblivion—until his next words shatter me completely.
“Damn, baby . . . I want to fuck this ass so bad.” The words send a jolt straight to my core, making me clench around him.
He spits on my ass and a shiver runs down my spine.
“Please,” I beg. “Touch me.”
His fingers circle my tight ring of muscle as he continues to move. My body instinctively tries to protect itself, but I don’t want protection. I want to let go completely.
“Relax, baby,” Cade murmurs. “Take a breath and let me in.”
I inhale deeply and obey, whimpering when the movement lets his cock slide impossibly deeper into my pussy. I shudder as his finger breaches me, the pressure foreign and intense. It should be too much—it is too much—but I don’t want him to stop.
“ Oh God,” I moan, my voice shaking as I tighten around his cock.
“You like that?” Satisfaction drips from his words.
I can only nod as he works his finger in a slow, deliberate rhythm, pushing me closer to the edge.
“Cade,” I gasp brokenly, clutching the couch. “I’m—fuck, I’m going to come.”
He groans louder, pounding relentlessly. “Fuck yeah. Let it go, baby.”
His other hand finds my clit, and my thoughts scatter. The orgasm plows through me, ripping a raw, desperate scream from me as I clench hard around him, shaking with the force of it.
Cade groans, his cock jerking violently as he pulls out, then brands my ass with thick, scalding ropes of cum, each one staking his claim. Completely spent, he collapses against me, his weight pinning my trembling body, his breath ragged and hot against my neck.
We lie there as the pleasure ebbs, his heart pounding against my spine, almost inhumanly fast—a reminder that only I do this to him.
He’s mine.
I gasp as he swings me up into his arms. As I wrap my arms around his neck, I feel wetness along my side. My stomach drops when I realize he’s bleeding.
“Cade! Your bandages!”
“I know. You can change them later. Right now, you’re going to make it all better. In the shower.”
“Cade!” I gasp, but my body is on board.
“What,” he chuckles. “You thought that was it? After the stunt you pulled today?”
I f lush, his earlier promise—about spanking and fucking me raw—flooding back with unbearable clarity. “Just . . . how much trouble am I in, Agent Quinn?”
His grin sharpens into something feral. “Let’s see. Failure to disclose information, lack of trust, security breaches that nearly got us killed . . .” His voice dips into a dark, filthy growl. “And flashing your perfect tits? Princess, you’re in deeper trouble than you can imagine.”
For hours, the quiet house fills with our sounds—not tender lovemaking, but something deeper. This is us letting go and giving in to each other.