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I tore my hands through his hair, sinking my teeth into my lip to stop from crying out. His teeth grazed my nipple, not gently. My stomach dipped, and an orgasm started to build up.

He’d somehow gotten my shorts off, so caught up in the frenzy I hadn’t even noticed. He didn’t tease, didn’t move slowly, hesitantly. No, his fingers landed there. Right there while his mouth moved against my nipple.

I tasted blood as my lips sank down even farther.

Kace was no longer at my breast. His fingers had stopped moving in those expert circles, instead, they’d plunged right inside.

I let out a hiss of pleasure at his beautiful intrusion.

Kace’s eyes were dark. Hard. “You’re not gonna try to silence yourself now, baby,” he growled. “If you try again, I’ll punish you until you got no choice but to scream.”

“Punish me?” I repeated, voice scratchy.

His fingers still moved inside me, coaxing me, teasing me, not giving me the full relief I knew he could. He was doing this on purpose.

“Yes,” he grated out. “You don’t scream my name, you don’t moan, cry out like I know you want to, I’ll take you to the edge and bring you back so many times you’ll get on your knees and beg me to make you come.”

Fury settled in my stomach, battling with need. “I will never beg.”

He grinned. But it wasn’t easy or simple like it had been before. This grin was wicked. Dark. And I fucking loved it.

“Oh, yes you fucking will,” he ordered, moving his finger deeper now, brushing against my g-spot, causing my breath to hitch, my body to tense, ready to shatter, burst apart. But then he stopped, lifted his finger between us, put it in his mouth and tasted me.

“Knew you’d be sweet,” he murmured.

Fury drowned in the sea of my desire. “Well then, taste me properly,” I invited.

His eyes flared, palm moving back between my legs, cupping me. “Let’s get one thing straight.” His other hand moved to my neck, circling it. There was pressure. A considerable amount of it, but not enough to hurt. I could still breathe.

“I’m the one who gives the orders here,” he rasped against my mouth. “You got a problem with that?”

I definitely should have had a problem with that. Kace was a relative stranger. He was ten years my junior. He definitely shouldn’t have been ordering me around.

“I don’t have a problem with that,” I breathed.

He grinned wickedly once more, lips landing on mine. Then his fingers moved inside me again. Slowly. Torturing, showing me that it was up to him if and when I got my release.

His fingers left me and his mouth moved down my neck, skirting over my breasts, moving down my stomach, hovering at my hip bones and finally landing on the place where I needed him to be.

His lips didn’t move slowly or gently now. He devoured me like a starving man. Didn’t stop as I screamed his name, tore at his hair, exploded under his touch. No, he kept going, relentlessly, until my second orgasm washed over me.

Then his lips were gone. His mouth on mine, tasting like the both of us mixed.

“Condom,” he murmured.

I barely registered what he was saying, only realizing it because he wasn’t doing what my body craved. He wasn’t fucking me.

“Babe, you got a condom?” he asked again against my mouth.

A condom?

I’d been married for well over a decade. No, I didn’t have a fucking condom. The mere thought of it started to yank me out of the moment.

That couldn’t happen.

“I’m on the pill,” I murmured. It was more for the regulation of my cycles than anything these days. I took them out of habit. Because I wanted as many things to stay the same in my daily life as I could. Even the smallest of things.

Kace’s eyes were dark. “You sure?”

I let out a frustrated sound at the back of my throat. “I’m fucking sure,” I commanded. “Now fuck me.”

He moved quickly, freeing himself and thrusting into me. Hard. Brutal. Brilliant.

My eyes squeezed shut under the intensity of it all. My skin felt like it was going to burst open. Like I wouldn’t survive another orgasm, even as his cock coaxed another one out of me.

“Open your fucking eyes,” Kace demanded, voice guttural.

I obeyed him immediately, without thinking. His eyes were glued to mine, holding me captive as he moved. “You’re keeping them here, on me,” he grunted.

My hands scraped down his back. He hissed in pleasure.

“Yeah, baby. Fuckin’ let your claws out. I can handle it. I won’t break.” He moved harder. Faster. “Neither will you.”

He was wrong.

I could break. I had before.

And he did break me again. Into millions of little pieces I’d scramble to get back after this was done. Pieces he’d managed to steal for himself. Of course I hadn’t known this at the time.

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