Page 201 of Sweet Ruin

Then he leans in.

His elbows rest on the table, forearms flexing beneath the expensive silk of his shirt. The movement brings his face inches from mine.

“I want to rip that little apron off you and see those curves spill out,” he murmurs in a husky rasp. “I want to watch your big, soft tits bounce as I pull your dress down over your hips, exposing that sweet, round ass you hide beneath your flour-dusted skirts.”

I feel a wet heat bloom between my legs, hotter and hotter with every word that spills past his lips.

“Then I’d slide my fingers under the waistband of your panties, feeling how soaked you already are,” he continues. “I’d tease your clit with just the tip of my thumb, circling it slow until you’re whimpering, begging for more, while I watch your eyes roll back and your lips part.”

His green eyes are huge and unblinking. As I watch, his tongue darts out and licks the corner of his lips.

“I’d pull your panties aside and press my cock right against your slick entrance,” he says. “I’d feel how hot you are, how you’re already dripping for me, and I’d slide in just enough to stretch you, to make you gasp, feeling every inch of my thickness fill you up.”

I can almost feel exactly what he’s describing. The pressure, the blunt head of his cock nudging my pussy lips, the stretch as he begins to push deeper, the way my walls clench instinctively around him.

“Then I’d fuck you hard,” he growls. “I’d slam into you, over and over, hearing the slap of my thighs against your ass, watching your tits jiggle with each thrust. I’d pull your hair back, expose that pretty neck, and bite down hard enough to leave a mark, while you scream my name and beg me not to stop.

“I’d flip you over, press you face-first into the wall, and take you from behind,” he whispers. “I’d pound into you. Make you moan. Make you whimper. Make you whine.”

He leans even closer.

“And when I’m almost there, I’d pull out just enough to coat your ass with my cum, watching it drip down your cheeks, mixing with the sweat on your skin. Then I’d shove my cock back into your pussy, filling you with my seed, feeling you convulse as you orgasm around me, your walls milking every last drop.”

I feel a shudder run through me. My nipples are so hard it hurts. I’ve completely forgotten about where we are and who we are. He’s reducing me to a cavewoman, with thoughts that barely form complete sentences.

Yes.

That.

I want that.

“Finally,” he says, “I’d make you suck me clean. I’d grab your hair, force your mouth onto my still-hard cock, and watch you gag, tears streaming down your face as you take me deep, your tongue swirling around my shaft, tasting yourself and me mixed together. I’d finish coming down your throat, making you swallow every drop, feeling you choke and moan at the same time.”

My hand, still holding my fork, shakes as I set it down.

Finally, Kane settles back in his chair, smiling in a way that is indescribably filthy. “Does that answer your question, Ms. Dorsey?”

I swallow hard. My face and ears are hot. “Okay,” I say. “That was—yeah. That was thorough.”

“You asked.”

“Yeah, you’re right. That’s on me.”

His hand snakes under the tablecloth and settles high on my thigh. I’m braced for him to venture further, but that’s all he does. Just stays there.

Even that’s enough to drive me up the wall, though.

I spread my legs just enough to coax him toward where my thighs meet. Kane looks at me, eyebrows raised.

“Feeling greedy, are we? My little story-time wasn’t enough?”

“It was… I’m just…”

He starts to edge higher—but right then is when dessert arrives, which proves that the hospitality industry vehemently opposes female pleasure.

By the time the door shuts again, I’m gripping the arm of the chair.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” I say.