2
Brielle
“I need a drink first,” I tell him, walking over to the nightstand, where I left my whiskey sour, knowing I would need it.
“No, you don’t,” he says, blocking me from grabbing it.
“Um, yes, I do.”
Before I have sex, I always have alcohol to take the edge off, and Theo never once questioned me.
“No, you don’t,” Kane repeats. “You said you need control, and I’m giving it to you. But you’re going to do it sober.”
“I was drinking downstairs,” I point out.
“You were nursing one. You’re fine.”
My hands shake as I eye the drink, wanting to push past him and down it. It’s what I used to numb myself the first time I had sex after being raped, and I’ve continued the habit ever since.
“Brielle,” Kane says, pinching my chin, “it’s just you and me. Now, tell me what you want from me.”
“I want you to take my clothes off.”
“That I can definitely do.”
He swings his legs over the side of the bed and then stalks over to me. Without my heels on, he towers a good six inches over my five-foot-six self.
That is, until he drops to his knees in front of me and lifts the bottom of my dress up. He takes his time, gliding his hands up my legs, until he gets to the waistband of my panties. Rather than pull them down, he runs one of his fingers along the edge, and goose bumps prickle my skin.
“Your skin is soft,” he murmurs. “And your body is toned. Do you work out?”
“Pilates,” I answer. “And a little strength training.”
I started working out as a stress reliever when I moved to Russia to live with my grandparents. But I continued to do it after my grandparents passed away and Dominick insisted that I move home. Since I have no idea what I want to do with my life, it helps fill the ample amount of time I have on my hands, and if I’m honest, I love it.
Kane hooks his fingers around the edge of my panties and slides them down my legs, touching every inch of my flesh with his fingertips, until they reach the floor.
Once he sets them to the side, he stands, his body so close to mine that I can smell his scent—fresh, warm, and with a hint of spice. Most men drown themselves in cologne, but with Kane, it’s so subtle that you almost can’t smell it unless you’re as close as we are.
“Arms up,” he says.
For a second, I’m confused, having been so lost in the way he smelled that I forgot what he was doing.
But then I remember he’s undressing me. So, I lift my arms above my head, and he pulls the fabric up my body. It’s a short-sleeved, floral-printed, shirred-waist dress, so it comes off easily, leaving me in only my bra.
His eyes go straight to my breasts, his tongue sliding across the seam of his lips, and I find myself clenching my thighs in anticipation of what’s to come.
When he leans in to unhook the clasp of my bra, I feel his lips press a soft kiss to the top of my cleavage, and it takes everything in me not to wrap my hands around the back of his head and beg him to keep kissing me there.
With my bra off, the cool air caresses my breasts, and my nipples grow hard. Kane must notice because the heat that overtakes his gaze could warm the coldest night.
Maybe he could have just a taste. I mean, I am the one in charge …
“Go ahead,” I tell him. “Have a lick. But only one.”
He doesn’t have to be told twice. He takes my breast into his large hand and wraps his lips around the beaded tip, giving it one lick—literally—before he gives the other one attention.
Between his gentle caress and the heady feeling of me being in charge and him complying, I find myself squirming in my spot, more turned on than I can remember ever being.
I knew when I was with Theo, something was amiss. I felt out of control, constrained. But I didn’t fully get it until now. When Kane listens to me, my stomach tightens, and my pussy throbs.
He takes a step back, and I think about what I want him to do next. There are so many things I want, things I crave and desire, but we only have one night, and I’m worried I might scare him off. So, I decide to play it safe.
“I want you to lie on the bed, and I’m going to sit on your face. You’re going to eat my pussy … unless you’re allergic.” I tack on the last part with a grin.
“Princess,” he drawls, “I’m going to eat that pussy, and if I am allergic, it will be a damn good way to go out.”
Ignoring the nickname he’s dubbed me with, I walk over to the bed and wait for him to lie down. Once he’s situated on his back, I crawl over to him and swing my leg over, holding on to the headboard. I’ve never done this before, so I hesitate for a second, but Kane doesn’t miss a beat. He grips the sides of my legs and pulls me onto his face.
The moment he parts my lips and his tongue swipes up my center, I let out an embarrassingly loud moan, which only increases when he finds my clit and sucks on it.
My hips rock as he devours my pussy—and I mean, devours. He’d better hope he’s not allergic to pussy because if he is, based on the way he’s eating mine, he’ll be dead within minutes.
When his finger runs up my ass and circles my other hole, I tighten in response and then reach back and knock his hand away from my ass.
“Did I say you could do that?”
He glances up at me, and I wait for him to argue or tell me I’m being ridiculous, but instead, he says, “I’m sorry. You taste so fucking good that I got carried away. Can I finger your ass?”
The thought of giving this stranger a piece of me I’ve never willingly given anyone has me shaking my head, especially since I pretty much have zero liquor running through my body, thanks to Kane making me do this sober.
“No, you can eat my pussy. You haven’t earned the right to touch my ass.”
He goes back to eating my pussy, and for the first time in a long time, an orgasm starts to build. I find myself grinding my pussy against his mouth, and it only spurs him on.
With every lick and suck and nibble to my clit, my body tightens like a coil. And when it gets to be too much, I do something I haven’t done in what feels like forever—I scream out his name as I come harder than I’ve come in God knows how long.
He doesn’t stop until he’s wrung every ounce of pleasure from me. I know I need to get off his face, but my legs feel like Jell-O.
Thankfully, he waits patiently, and once I feel like I won’t fall over, I lift off him and drop onto the bed next to him.
“Good?” he asks with a knowing smirk.
“Eh, it was okay.”
“Just okay?”
He shifts so I’m lying under him, and the action is so fast that flashbacks of Anthony raping me hit me, and I hold my breath, praying Kane isn’t about to do the same. But then he shocks me when his hands come to my sides, and he … tickles me.
“Kane!” I screech because I’m beyond ticklish.
“Admit that I ate your pussy like a pro, or I’ll keep tickling you.”
“Okay, okay!” I gasp. “You did good.”
“Damn right I did,” he says, removing his hands from my hips. “So, what now?”
I sit up, and because he’s still straddling my legs, our faces are only inches apart. Up close, his whiskey eyes are even brighter with flecks of gold mixed in. His facial features are soft, and he has a boyish vibe to him, but underneath, I can see a hint of hardness trying to break through.
“You promised me two orgasms,” I remind him.
“Actually three,” he volleys.
“We’ll stick with two.”
His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and my first thought is that I want to taste him … but more than that, I want to taste me on him.
So, I do just that.
Threading my fingers through his hair, I pull his face toward mine and lick across the seam of his lips. He tastes like the perfect mixture of my arousal and something that is uniquely him.
When my lips part on a sigh, he slides his tongue into my mouth, and I find myself pushing him back so I can crawl into his lap to get closer.
The hardness of his erection pokes against my ass, and I grind into it, causing him to groan and deepen the kiss.
“I need you to fuck me,” I murmur against his lips.
“You want me to fuck you? Or do you want to fuck me?”
Jesus, this man. He’s unlike any other guy I’ve been with.
“I want you to fuck me just like this.” I wiggle my hips. “With me on top.”
But then it hits me that I’ve yet to see his cock, and this might be my only chance.
“But first …” I slide off his lap, and he pouts, making him look even younger. “I want to suck your dick.”
His eyes light up with renewed heat as I pull his boxer briefs down and his cock springs free. It’s thick and long with a couple of veins running along the length of his erection. There’s a single bead of pre-cum peeking out of the tip, and without thought, I lean down and lick it, wanting to know what every part of him tastes like.
“Fucking hell, woman,” he moans, tangling his fingers in my hair at the back of my head.
I pause, waiting to see if he’ll force himself on me, but he doesn’t, so I lean in again and suck on his mushroom head. A few more drops of pre-cum leak out, and I’m reminded that we’ll need a condom. I might be on the pill, but I’m not risking it.
I slide off the bed, and I can feel his eyes watching me as I saunter across the room and over to my purse, where I pull a foiled packet out of my zippered pouch.
When I return, I set it next to me and then go back to sucking his dick. As I take him down my throat, rolling his balls gently in my hand, he moans, saying how good it feels, and my legs clench in anticipation. There’s just something so hot about bringing this man to his knees—metaphorically.
“Holy shit!” he groans, tightening his hold on my hair yet making sure not to force me to do anything.
The image of him grabbing me by my hair and fucking my face flashes through my mind, and I’m almost positive that my arousal drips onto the bed. I’ve never let a guy face-fuck me before—when I was with Owen, we were young and had only started experimenting with our sexuality, and when I mentioned it to Theo, he refused.
But now I’m in control …
“Go ahead,” I tell Kane, knowing he wants to. When he stills, I glance up at him. “Fuck my face, Kane. I want you to fuck me so hard that I choke and gag all over your cock.”
Oh my God! I can’t believe I just said that out loud.
Before I can take it back—not because I regret it, but because he’s going to run before I get a chance to fuck him—he gets up, and my heart sinks because this is it. I finally found a guy to go along with my craziness, and I scared him off.
“You want me to fuck your face?” he asks, palming my cheek and looking into my eyes.
“Yes,” I breathe.
“So hard that you choke and gag on my cock?”
Him repeating my words back to me only makes me wetter.
“Yes,” I repeat.
“Lie on your back.”
I don’t know why he’s asking this of me, but I’m so turned on at the thought of him fucking my face that I scramble onto my back.
He gets off the bed and pulls me to the edge so my head is hanging off the side of the mattress.
“If you want or need me to stop at any time, tap my leg.”
He grabs my hand and brings it up to show me where to tap, and I wiggle in my spot. If I need to tap, it’s because my mouth will be occupied … with his cock.
“Understand?” he asks, his voice deep and commanding.
“Yes.” I nod once. “Now, fuck my mouth.”
He glances down at me, and a roguish smirk graces his too-handsome-for-his-own-good face as he grips his shaft and strokes it a few times while I watch with eagerness.
With the hand that’s not stroking himself, he reaches out and pinches my nipple, and I squirm in desire. He does it to the other one, and I’m about to tell him to hurry this along when his hand goes to my hair and he steps closer, tugging my head back slightly.
The underside of his cock bobs over my face, and I practically salivate. Thanks to the bed being a bit on the higher side, he easily guides his cock into my open and awaiting mouth. I’ve never done this before, so I don’t know what to expect, other than what I’ve seen from watching porn.
But Kane does not disappoint. He doesn’t stop until he’s all the way down my throat, and then he proceeds to face-fuck me. With his hands gripping the sides of my face, he takes no mercy on me, thrusting in and out of my mouth. Just as I was hoping for, I gag and splutter, his long, thick length filling my airway and making it hard to breathe.
For a split second, I wonder if I made a horrible decision and this is how I’m going to die. In my world, you can’t be too careful with who you trust, and I literally just put my life in the hands of a stranger. But then he pulls back, giving me a moment to catch my breath, and all thoughts of dying fly out the window as I get lost in the moment.
I slurp and suck as he fucks my mouth, and without thought, my hand goes to my pussy, needing to come again.
The tips of my fingers slide between my folds, and I’m soaked. Like, I have no doubt that I’m leaving a wet spot on the bed.
“Fuck, Princess,” Kane groans. “Your mouth is perfect.”
He picks up his speed, and I do the same with my fingers. As he fucks my mouth, I massage my clit, and within seconds, I’m coming all over my fingers.
I expect Kane to come down my throat, but instead, he pulls out and sits on the bed, pulling me on top of him so I’m straddling his muscular thighs.
He grabs the condom and slides it over his hard length and then looks at me. “Tell me I can fuck you.”
The desperation in his tone, mixed with the fact that he’s asking rather than taking—once again making sure I stay in control—has me sinking onto him.
We both moan in unison as he stretches me until he’s inside me to the hilt.
“Fuck me,” I breathe out.
Gripping the curves of my hips, he fucks me fast and deep from the bottom. My fingers delve into his hair, and his mouth connects with mine.
And as I come for the third time tonight, everything hits me like a tidal wave—the control, the pleasure, the chemistry between Kane and me—and before I know what I’m doing, I’m pushing off him and running to the bathroom, not wanting him to see me lose it.
Tears stream down my face as I reach the bathroom, but before I can slam the door, he’s following me inside and lifting me into his strong arms.
“Shh, it’s okay,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.”
I nuzzle my face into his neck, inhaling his comforting scent while I continue to cry for the broken woman who wants so badly to feel whole.
Somehow, while holding me, Kane manages to turn the water on. He walks us into the shower and then sets me on the bench. Wordlessly, he washes my hair, massaging my scalp, while I continue to silently cry, my tears mixing with the water and swirling down the drain—which is really quite fitting because it feels like being with Kane tonight cleansed the parts of me that Theo had made me feel were dirty.
Not once did Kane tell me no or argue with me. He didn’t look at me like I was strange when I told him to fuck my face. He was turned on and enjoyed everything we did.
As Kane rinses me off, my body shakes.
He was just supposed to be a one-night stand. A way to prove that I was the problem. Instead, he knocked down several of my walls, leaving me feeling more vulnerable than I’d ever felt.
Theo was safe.
Kane is dangerous.
And with that realization, my heart begins to race because Kane is dangerous to my heart.
But what if he took care of it? I think as Kane turns off the water and hands me a towel.
We quickly dry off and then he hands me my clothes and says, “It’s been fun, Princess,” effectively raising every wall he temporarily brought down.
Because Kane isn’t looking for more.
He was only looking for a one-off, and now that he got it, he’s dismissing me and my heart.
It’s for the best, I tell myself as I get dressed, grab my purse, and head for the door.
Theo was safe.
But Kane is dangerous.
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