Chapter 11 Kane
KANE
I drag her out of my wardrobe, my brain full of static.
She’s here.
I couldn’t believe it when I saw that dot, not in her apartment where I expected it, but in mine. In my bedroom. In the location of my bed.
Watching that dot as I raced home were the most stressful minutes of my life.
She fights me, wriggling and slapping half-heartedly as I carry her, one arm around her waist and her body snug to mine, to the bed and dump her onto it.
From the bedside drawer—I wonder if she looked in here?—I pull the handcuffs that have taken up residence in my mind since I saw them.
“These are from your Wishlist, you know,” I tell her conversationally as I secure her wrist with the furry pink handcuffs and loop the metal to the headboard and snap the other cuff.
“Please,” she says.
“Please, what, Lily?” I ask mildly. “Please don’t punish you for breaking into my apartment?”
Standing back, I admire my captive. With her arms stretched out over her head, her tits look amazing, peeking out from above her top.
I want to worship them. Bite them. Have her writhing and crying beneath me.
I imagine pushing them together and rubbing my cock between the little mounds until I spurt, hard, right into her face.
A primal claim.
But before that, we need to figure out why she’s in my bedroom.
Because lovely as she is, and innocent as I believe her to be, I am still the kingpin of Croydon.
I have left a London Mafia Syndicate meeting, raising eyebrows with influential mafia bosses like Westminster and Mayfair who look down their noses at the savage exploits of men like me.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.” Her white teeth trap that plump bottom lip in them and I don’t bother to disguise that I’m looking, or what my physical response is.
I begin to strip off my clothing, tossing aside my fine wool suit jacket as though it were a disposable tissue.
Then my tie. And while I’d love to get completely naked, there’s a savage enjoyment in removing only enough to be comfortable for this pleasurable task.
I flick off my platinum cufflinks without bothering with where they fall. “Please don’t take what I want from your virgin body? Given you’ve walked willingly into my lair.”
Her breath catches at that, and she doesn’t deny my guess about her virginity.
“Please make you come on my face?”
She writhes a bit, her thighs rubbing together.
“Or please let you go?” I roll up first one shirt sleeve, then the other.
Her mouth falls open, and her gaze flits between my exposed forearms and neck. She licks her lips with what I’m sure is a guileless action, but fuck, my cock responds as though she wrapped her lips around it. She’s so incredibly gorgeous.
“You like my tattoos, angel?”
She makes a noise like a wounded animal.
“Why were you in my apartment?” It wasn’t spying for another mafia. Not Waltham, anyway, because if it were, her contact would be blown. Besides, I can’t believe that.
But the alternative?
Implausible.
So I have to ask the question and insist on an answer, without using my usual barbaric interrogation methods.
This time she pins me with her gaze. “How do you know the handcuffs were on my Wishlist?”
I grin, but she doesn’t return it, eyebrows pinching together. I love that she’s smart.
“Shall we play a game?”
“What sort of game?” Tugging experimentally on the cuffs, she arches her back. But she can’t escape.
“How about truth or orgasm?”
A splutter of disbelief escapes her. “That… What?”
“You tell me the truth, Lily, or I force an orgasm from you.”
“You’re mad.” But a flush creeps up her neck.
I indulge in looking at her, not hiding that I’m lingering on the parts a man twice her age, and her boss, shouldn’t notice.
In her little skirt and dark purple top, she’s damn sweet.
With her tits almost on show, and her luscious, tanned legs draped on my bed, she’s a dream come to life.
And naturally, my cock has responded. I palm it roughly.
My Lily, a perfect bloom ready to be plucked. Ripe and untouched.
“And you’re at my mercy,” I point out. “I think you have to play my game.”
Her mouth sets in a mulish line.
I sit on the edge of the bed, and stroke my hand down her side. She shivers. “I suspect I know what’s going on here, angel. But I want you to tell me.”
I’ve seen her growing interest, her online searches. And her in my apartment has lured me in further to what I hadn’t dared believe.
The object of all my desires—the woman I’ve been stalking—has begun to stalk me back.
That, or she’s working for my enemies.
“You’ll trade a truth for a truth?”
While that’s not exactly what I was thinking, I nod as I ruck up the top and palm her breast. I don’t restrain a grunt of approval when I find she isn’t wearing a bra and her nipple is puckered, firm and peaked for me. I rub my thumb over the little nub, and she lets out a shuddery breath.
“You said it was truth or orgasm,” she protests.
“I think you’re going to lie.” I tweak her nipple. “So I’m getting you ready.”
Honestly, it’s more that I can’t keep my hands off her.
Lily, on my bed? Lily, showing signs of being as obsessed with me as I am with her?
How can she not realise that her wanting to know about me is the ultimate aphrodisiac?
As though she weren’t the sexiest woman alive before, her creeping into my bedroom and lying on my bed is enough to make my balls tingle.
“I’m not going to lie,” she gasps.
“Very well. Let’s start off easy, shall we?” I roll her nipple. “How did you get in?”
“Your spare key.” She closes her eyes as I pinch my fingers together. “When you had me over for dinner, I found it in the bowl in your foyer.”
“Observant,” I concede. “I’d forgotten it was there.” Seems I made it simple for her. “You should have just asked. I’d have given it to you.”
Her eyes fly open.
“Your turn, angel,” I croon. Let’s see what she reveals with this question.
She blinks. “Those mis-delivered parcels. The money. The job.”
“Mmmhum.” I leave her breast and run my hand up to her shoulder. Relatively innocent touches, but they feed my soul. It feels like I own her as I caress the soft skin of her inner arm.
“How did you know what I wanted?”
“Clever. If I answer, I must acknowledge the premise as true: that I did all those things. You get both your inferred and direct question.”
“And?” I guess she thinks she sounds defiant and tough, but she’s tied up and so cute she might as well be a teddy bear.
“I’ve been tracking your phone.” Best to admit it. I shrug when she makes an outraged sound. “I have since the beginning. Strictly, it’s a work phone, so within my rights.”
“But…” It seems like she struggles with outrage and a touch of disbelief.
“The CCTV isn’t quite so legal,” I add.
“You were watching me?” Her eyes are so wide they’re saucers.
“You just got three truths,” I point out. “I think you can figure out that last one on your own. Why were you in my bedroom?”
She’s silent.
“Lily,” I say severely, and reach down to smooth my hands over her legs.
“I don’t know!” she bursts out.
I slide my hand inexorably up her thigh. She could kick me. A well-placed heel in my jaw wouldn’t be terribly difficult, but Lily only squirms. “Try again.”
Her gaze flicks down then catches on where I’m pushing her skirt up, inch by slow inch.
“I don’t know.” She shifts restlessly but doesn’t try to escape. No, it’s more that she’s pretending that she isn’t arching into my touch. “I really don’t. I just…”
I lean over her and catch her chin between my thumb and forefinger, drawing it up until she’s looking into my eyes. Biting her lip, she seems abashed. Pink tinges her cheeks.
“I really wanted to see your bedroom.”
“Good girl.” It’s the same for me. “That wasn’t so difficult.”
Sitting back, I flip her skirt all the way up. “Cotton knickers, Lily. Are you trying to kill me?”
“No?” There’s no fear in the lines of her taut arms or heaving chest. Only bravery and curiosity. “How did you know I was in the wardrobe?”
“A tracker on your phone.” I’m in for this now. I’m telling her everything.
She sneaks a shy look at me from under her eyelashes. “Why?”
“Uh-uh.” I huff with gentle laughter. As though she isn’t well aware. “I’m not allowing that again. I get my truth next.”
I trail my fingers down her leg.
“Fine.” She tries to toss her hair, and it almost works. But a tendril gets caught on her lip, and she can’t dislodge it, despite tilting her chin from side to side.
Her mouth opens as I lean forward and slowly, achingly slowly, tuck the errant strand behind her ear. I lean further, stretching my body over hers, and put my mouth to her ear, nearly touching.
“You like me watching you, don’t you?”
She whines.
“Tell me the truth, like a good girl.”
Lowering my head, I tug the neckline of her top down and fully reveal her breasts. Berry-pink nipples, no bra. Beautiful.
My mouth waters as I bring my lips to her nipple. A lick first, and it puckers beneath my ministrations. Then I suck the whole of the sensitive nub into my mouth and swirl my tongue over the tip. The slight noises that escape my captive are as enticing as her young virgin body.
I move to the other breast, and do the same, worshipping her, feeling how she squirms. My little angel needs more. I’m sure of it.
“Something you want to tell me?” I prompt her, then redouble my efforts, bringing my hand to her nipple and teasing it with light circles.
“Yes, yes!” she cries out. “I loved you watching me.”
I don’t stop.
“I want you to watch me all the time. I want to know all the parts of you too.”
Savage pride shoots into my heart, a lightning bolt. Yes. She writhes beneath me, her hips seeking relief.
I continue to kiss her breasts and caress every part I can reach. Her skirt is trapped at her waist, but it doesn’t matter. It moves enough. What I crave is touching her, so I work around the encumbrance rather than bother to remove it.