Chapter 2
Two
I did not have a misspent youth.
My youth was uneventful and full of semi-normal things. Well, not so ‘normal’ since my father died when I was thirteen, but I did my best not to think about that. Even then, I shoved my grief away. I studied a whole lot. Had a few friends. A part-time job, a boyfriend or two because I thought I had to, though they never really excited me. I went to prom.
I did not go through a rebellious stage. There was no partying, no yelling at my mother, no bad boy boyfriend. Sure, I really liked Jess on Gilmore Girls and had my very first orgasm thinking about some leather-clad rebel on a motorcycle promising me a wild time.
But I did not bring those fantasies to life.
Mostly because we didn’t have leather-clad, motorcycle-riding bad boys in my small town in New Hampshire. And by the time I moved to the city and had access to a larger pool of men, I was already working in restaurants most of my waking hours. There simply wasn’t time to indulge in relationships.
Therefore, I had never been on the back of a motorcycle.
It turned out I liked it.
He drove fast. Too fast. Just like I’d requested.
We took turns at dizzying speeds.
The wind bit into my body, cold and fresh and hurtling through the clothing that wasn’t suitable for a bike.
Kane was warm, hot, an inferno against my front and my arms which were tight around him.
It was the most reckless thing I’d ever done, getting on the back of a bike with someone I barely knew. Holding them in such an intimate way. I could feel his rock-hard abs underneath my hands and felt the utterly wild urge to dip my hands lower, to the buckle of his belt. Lower even then.
I didn’t, of course. But I wanted to. My pussy, throbbing from the roaring vibration of the bike underneath me, wanted me to.
The city passed by in a whirl of lights. He wove through the New York traffic with ease, taking it at speeds that likely weren’t legal and definitely weren’t safe.
But I trusted him.
I’d gone insane.
I trusted a man I’d just met, a man who was nicknamed after Satan himself.
I did not have a death wish, and I hadn’t thought I had a wild side. But there I was, hurtling through the city on the back of Kane ‘The Devil’ Rhodes’s motorcycle.
We stopped in front of an old brownstone, Kane somehow finding street parking right away, which was near impossible, even for a motorcycle.
My heart was roaring as loud as the bike when he turned it off, my breaths coming in hard pants as he got off and then took the helmet off my head.
I was dazed and didn’t even think of the hair I’d worried about a lifetime ago. My head whipped to him, standing on the curb, staring at me.
“That was amazing,” I told him, exhilarated.
He was studying me with a light furrow to his brow like he was surprised or trying to figure something out. Trying to figure me out. There was still heat there. That liquid heat in his gaze, in his body, a sexiness that just dripped off him.
The sounds of the city were nothing but a muted roar for a handful of seconds as I let myself get lost in him, my blood still singing from the high.
“Not my place.” He jangled the keys as he nodded up to the brownstone, jerking me out of my daze. “I let my publicist talk me into getting my apartment renovated.” He let out a sigh that was somehow masculine. “Yeah, I know I sound like a fucking douchebag that I not only have a publicist but let him dictate how I decorate my house, but … whatever.” He shrugged. Again, it managed to be sexual and masculine and made my already raging libido spike higher.
“Anyway, I’m renting this.” He waved to the brownstone that was in a quiet neighborhood—by New York standards, which meant it didn’t have Sex and the City tourists posing in front of it—and cost some serious money.
Not that that was something that impressed me much, but I noted it.
The daredevil business paid well, apparently.
A hand at the small of my back sent sparks down my spine. “Just ’cause I rent the house doesn’t mean I’m not going to own your pussy in every room,” he murmured against my neck, leaning down so his lips brushed my skin.
I wasn’t expecting him to say that, not after talking about publicists and renovations.
So my knees turned to jelly, almost collapsing to the sidewalk. Except Kane didn’t give me the chance to, luckily. He slung me into his side and walked us both to the brownstone.
We went up the stairs, and he unlocked the door, but I barely noticed it over my galloping heart.
The clang of the front door closing and shutting out the street noise sent my heart sprinting and my vision danced with spots. The silence was oppressive, and I suddenly regretted my decision. I was not the type of woman who had one-night stands with famous athletes who effortlessly exuded sex. He might’ve done this many times before. I hadn’t. I wasn’t a sexual person, and I would be awkward and likely disappointing.
I opened my mouth to spout off an excuse and get out of there, but I didn’t get a word out.
Kane grabbed me by the back of the neck and kissed me.
All of my doubts disappeared into a puff of smoke. A ball of freaking fire.
Suddenly, I was a sexual person. All I was was sex, instinct, hunger, desire.
His hands tangled into my hair, roughly pulling at the strands with the perfect amount of pressure. A spike of pain shot through my scalp, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.
The opposite, actually. It only served to light up nerve endings in my body that were already singing, submitting to Kane.
The kiss was tongue and teeth. Kane’s canines grazed my lip so hard the metallic tang of blood mingled in our mouths. He leaned back, a predatory smile on his face as he licked his lips.
“So far, I fucking love the taste of you,” he declared, voice thick and raw.
He didn’t give me time to return the compliment because he was kissing me again. His hands were at my ass, and I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist as he lifted me up, having never made such an attempt before because I hadn’t been so taken over with desire. And because I hadn’t been confident that the man had the strength to hold me.
Kane had the strength to hold me. I didn’t question it for even a second.
There was no hitch in his breath, no pause in the beautiful assault on my mouth as he walked us in what I guessed was the direction of a bedroom. I didn’t care where it was as long as it had a horizontal surface.
As my legs tightened around him, my core ached for friction as I began to grind myself against his denim-clad erection like some horny teenager.
Kane let out a growl and ripped his mouth from mine. One of his hands remained on my ass, the other cupped my chin, eyes cerulean fire as they zeroed in on me. “Was planning on takin’ you to a bed, but fuck. I can’t wait another single second to get inside of you.”
My mouth went dry at his words, thirsty, desperate for him to sate me.
I clung to him as he lowered us effortlessly onto the floor. My back hit fabric, a rug, most likely. There was somewhat of a cushion against the hardwood floor but not much. I didn’t mind the hard surface, though, not with Kane hovering over me, his lips moving down the column of my neck.
He kneaded my breasts as he kissed me, teeth again grazing my skin.
I practically swallowed my tongue when he sucked at the delicate skin of my neck.
“I’m not gonna do it because I know you’re classy as fuck, but I’m just lettin’ you know it’s taking me great restraint not to mark you,” Kane told me against my neck, pressing delicate kisses downward, contrasting with the scrape of his canines against my skin.
I arched my back as he made his way to my nipple, pulling aside the fabric of my top to expose it.
Mark me... My mind was delayed in processing his words, likely because all of my other senses were screaming.
With a hickey, he meant. The thought alone should’ve made me recoil. It was juvenile and archaic. But some part of me, a large part of me, wanted that mark. And if he’d asked, I would’ve said yes.
Luckily, he seemed to have more presence of mind than I did.
“Incredible tits, Avery Hart,” Kane told me, looking up at me.
My hands tangled in his hair, I’d been desperate to run my hands through it, touch him.
His mouth went to my other nipple where he spent his time sucking, grazing his teeth.
“If you’re not opposed, I plan on coming on them at some point this evening.”
A jolt, right to my core.
“I’m not opposed.” My voice was little more than a rasp.
He showed his teeth in a wicked grin. “Good. Now I’m gonna make you come with my mouth because I need to taste you when you come apart. Then I’ll be fucking you till I’m the only one who can put you back together.”
My body jerked with the words, my mind racing. Fear speared through my spine at the words. The oath. I had spent my life ensuring I was put together, not so much as a loose thread showing. I didn’t want anyone, let alone a man having the power to take me apart. It should’ve sent me running. But it didn’t. More heat flooded between my legs and I found myself wanting to give Kane that power. I wanted to be undone by him.
His hands went to my hips then, expertly undoing my pants.
“Hips up, baby.”
I obeyed wordlessly, watching him through hooded eyes.
He took both my pants and panties off at the same time, tossing them over his shoulder.
Then he pushed apart my legs, placing the heels of my feet flat on the floor.
I gasped at the position, at the intimacy of it. No one but my gynecologist had been this up close and personal with my vagina. It was only because of her that I knew that everything was normal … down there. But still, amongst all of my feelings of desire, I felt incredibly self-conscious with a practical stranger’s gaze on the most intimate part of me.
What if he didn’t like the way it looked?
A shallow thought, but one I wrestled with, nonetheless.
Kane licked his lips. His piercing eyes met mine just as I was about to slam my legs shut, army crawl to my pants then make my escape.
“Gorgeous fucking pussy, Avery Hart. Not that I expected anything less.”
Then he dove in.
My tense body, ready to bolt, melted as soon as his lips fastened onto me. As they moved over the intimate skin of my pussy. I’d expected him to be as frenzied and borderline violent as he had been when he was kissing me. He was slower. Purposeful. Impossibly precise. As he changed his rhythm, his lips and tongue were learning me, torturing me. Then his finger slipped inside me.
I arched my back, crying out and clawing at the threads of the rug I was lying on.
Kane slowly picked up his pace, as if he could sense my body building up to climax. Already, I felt like my skin was too tight for my flesh, like I was too sensitive, like I might not be able to handle the intensity of the orgasm that was coiled inside of me.
Kane kept going, holding on to my thighs with enough force to imprint his fingertips into the soft skin. Hopefully, there would be a mark there, evidence of this, what I already knew was going to be the best orgasm of my life.
Kane’s finger was no longer inside of me, both of his hands now on my ass, lifting me so he could … bury his face there . So he could devour me.
The gesture, the wildness of it, the intensity of his tongue now at my clit broke me apart. I didn’t know what sounds I made, if I made any sounds. It would’ve been impossible for me not to since I needed some way to release the pleasure that overwhelmed my entire body.
I didn’t know how long it lasted, but I knew that Kane’s tongue was still there, his mouth was still there, meeting the thrusts of my hips, the quivers of my body.
Slowly, I came down, and the room reappeared around me. My eyes opened, and I looked downward. Kane was still in between my legs, his eyes locked on mine.
Slowly and deliberately, Kane leaned in again and inhaled. I didn’t think my spent body had it in me to do more than breathe heavily, yet I trembled in delight. It was such an unexpected and sensual act. It was … dirty. Magnificent.
In my haze, Kane had traveled up my body, exposing himself enough so his hard, bare cock brushed against the impossibly sensitive flesh on my pussy.
I gasped out loud against his mouth as he braced himself above me with one hand while using the other to drag my leg up the side of his hip, opening myself to him further.
His mouth brushed against mine.
He tasted of me.
Me and him.
And I was someone who used taste as a vehicle for a prestigious career. It was my most utilized sense. And the explosion of us on my tongue was unlike anything I’d ever tasted.
Kane’s expression was something like the cat that ate the canary except the canary was me, and he was no cat. He was a lion.
“Yeah,” he hummed. “You like that.” He pushed his cock against me so my eyes rolled to the back of my head, and my back arched.
“You’re gonna fuckin’ love this, Avery Hart,” he growled.
Before I could question what he meant, he was inside me. His cock filled me, to the brim.
Instead of clawing at the no doubt expensive rug I was lying on—I was being fucked on—I slipped my hands underneath Kane’s tee to claw at his back. He hissed in pain—and hopefully, pleasure—and drilled into me harder.
I tore at the skin of his back like I was a frenzied animal. Because I felt like an animal. That’s what our coupling had made me. I’d been stripped down to the core, exposing that I was just a hedonistic creature, ripping at him in lust, desire.
Kane was relentless in his thrusts.
“Harder,” I groaned.
Kane didn’t hesitate to heed my command.
He slammed into me so I saw stars. So impossibly hard that my spent body tensed again, coiling up. He was big. Very big. On the verge of uncomfortably large. Especially with the power in which he was pummeling into me.
But the discomfort somehow made it rawer; it took the edge off a pleasure that might’ve been too much otherwise.
It turned out, I needed a little pain with my pleasure.
In other words, he was made for me.
Kane’s face hovered over mine, his mouth touching mine but not exactly kissing me. We were close, breathing, panting into each other’s mouths. Another animalistic, carnal thing that shouldn’t have been as impossibly sexy as it was.
I was no longer clawing at his back, my hands were just resting there. My hips were meeting his, thrust for thrust, chasing the orgasm I didn’t feel like I would survive.
The rug was burning the exposed skin of my back. More pain. The perfect balm to the overwhelming pleasure, to carry me a little longer.
Part of me wanted to stay there, on the floor of that brownstone, with a rug burning my back, with Kane ‘The Devil’ Rhodes inside of me, on the edge of an orgasm that would ruin me. I didn’t want to go back to my life. The one I loved. The career that was more than my passion. It was my identity.
I wanted to stay there, on the floor with a stranger inside of me for reasons I couldn’t fathom.
But as stubborn as I was, I wasn’t in control at that moment. Something bigger than me was. So Kane’s thrusts took me over the edge. When I cried out, his mouth covered mine. There was a grunt against my lips as I milked Kane of his own release.
I lost all sense of time, of place, of anything but the waves crashing over me.
In short, even in that moment, I knew Kane Rhodes had ruined me for all men.