There’s not a man on Earth who could resist the pull of her fingers, measuring from root to tip. No Dom in the history of dungeons could refuse a sub as magnificent as Kate when she rolls to her side, fingers locked around my cock, pulling me with her, on top of her.
I can’t stop this. I can’t control her. I can’t control myself.
I’ve spent weeks barely holding myself in check. I’ve tested myself. I’ve vowed I will not fail.
But it doesn’t feel like failing, not when Kate’s hand is on my dick. It feels like this is exactly where I’m supposed to be. Exactly what I’m supposed to be doing. I trust her, exactly the way she trusted me, finding her way back home.
“My,” she says, tightening her grip. “What a big cock you have.”
I snarl as I reach behind me for the pillows. I manage to get a cushion beneath her cane-scored ass before I tear off her soaked panties, before I settle my hips between her thighs.
“The better to fuck you with, my dear,” I growl as I sink into her wet, ready heat.
All the weeks of my denial melt away in a heartbeat.
I should be talking, telling her she’s perfect, swearing we were made for this. I could rumble sweet words or snarl crude ones. But the clutch of her thighs steals away any thought of language. She strips me of everything gentle, everything noble. She reduces me to an animal.
We’re animals together. We move like this is some dance we’ve practiced for years. She’s ready—we both are. I match my mouth to hers, kissing her fiercely as I set a brutal pace. She catches my lip between her teeth, biting hard enough to hurt, and when I taste the salt of blood, I clutch her hair between my fingers.
She whimpers, and I loosen my grip, but when I glide home again, I realize it’s her striped ass that’s hurting. I tighten my arms around her, and this time I’m the one who rolls, taking her with me until she’s on top.
She rises up like a vengeful goddess, crimson hair billowing around her face. Bracing her hands against my chest, she rides my cock with trembling concentration.
Her thighs quiver. Her mouth pulls into a perfect O. She throws her head back, arching her neck like a thoroughbred, and when she comes, she howls.
I’m half a stroke behind her, raising my hips to match her pulsing core. I want to hold there. I want to make this last forever. I want to maintain perfect control.
But then her inner muscles seize again, and I break like a dam. She milks me, each spasm harder than the one before. I clutch at the sheets. I shift my grip to her thighs. I bellow sounds without words until I’m utterly emptied, completely undone.
I don’t know how long it takes for my mind to come back online. I’ve never been out like that before. I don’t lose control.
The fever that’s scorched my body for weeks is quenched. The fire is out, the one that consumed me while she was gone, stealing my appetite, drugging me into dreamless sleep, dulling me into a shadow of myself.
I feel awake. Alive. Energized by the cool chill of potential—all the code I can write, all the clients I can manage.
Kate sprawls across my chest, her hair flung across us both like a field of poppies. My cock still nestles inside her. She’s breathing hard. We both are.
I’ve tamed my Kate.
No. That’s a lie. I haven’t tamed her. She hasn’t been broken. She’s strong and she’s determined and she’s the reason I finally yielded, fucking her the way I’ve longed to do since that first night in Boston.
In a moment, I’ll remember how to move my arms. My legs, too. I’ll get us both some water. I’ll feed her dark chocolate, and I’ll rub arnica into her bruised flesh. I’ll take care of her because she’s my sub, because she’s my wife, because she’s something precious.
But that can wait for just a while. For now, I can feel her body. My body. Our bodies together.
And that’s enough.
That’s everything.
My Kate is home.
58
KATE
Iwake in our bedroom, alone in the massive bed, huddled beneath the coverlet. The lamp on my nightstand glows. I reach for Wolf’s—Cole’s—pillow and find it still warm to the touch. I hear the shower running.
I’m not sure how we got upstairs. I remember Cole holding me in the dungeon. Cleaning me with a warm, damp cloth. Easing the fire the cane left across my arse, smoothing in a cream that smelled of rosemary and sage.
