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Kyle’s armwraps around my waist from behind. I feel his mouth touch my shoulder, and I wince. Not because I don’t want his affection, but because my entire body aches. His lips move from my shoulder, kissing along the center of my back.
I don’t know what time it is, but I’m exhausted. After we had sex last night for the first time, we showered, I embarrassingly changed the sheets, then he made me come again with his mouth between my legs. It was almost, dare I say, beautiful.
I expected to please him again, but he wouldn’t let me. I don’t know why, but that hurt my feelings. I should have been happy about that. Ecstatic even. But I’m not—or wasn’t. I just don’t understand this man at all.
One minute, he’s this kind and caring man, and the next he’s a complete asshole. I don’t know what to expect from him, and that worries me. His mouth continues to move down my spine, stopping when he reaches the top of the crack of my ass.
“Kyle?” I ask.
“Good morning, flower,” he rasps.
I don’t ask him why he’s called me flower, but I don’t think I care either. I’m too concerned with what’s happening behind me. His hands grip my ass, and he spreads my cheeks apart. I gasp at the intrusion.
“I’m not going to ask you about Cyrus. But I want to know. Tell me if you’ve done anything…” His words trail off, and then I feel his warm, wet thumb press against the center of my back entrance.
Turning my head, I look over my shoulder. Admitting that I’ve done anything when it comes to Cyrus, and especially back there, feels taboo. It feels forbidden. But when he lifts his gaze to meet mine, there is nothing salacious or scandalous in his expression.
There is curiosity. But there is also desire there, and I think that outweighs everything else. His thumb continues to draw circles against my entrance, pressing gently but firmly as it does.
“Some play and a toy once,” I confess.
“And?” he asks.
Heat burns my cheeks, and I know they are bright red. “I came.”
He hums, though he doesn’t look upset or angry. He looks almost pleased. Cyrus was right. Training in pleasure is important. Maybe the most important thing a woman can be trained in.
I hate that he was right.
“I’ll get a small toy,” he murmurs, his gaze shifting from mine to my back entrance. He stares, watching his thumb move.
My eyes flutter closed as the sensation begins to consume me. His touch, the way he’s gentle yet firm, as he’s been the entire evening and into today, I don’t understand it. He’s nothing like the man whom I woke up beside the day after our wedding.
He’s back to this sweet man, this kind person I can’t wait to get to know better.
I don’t understand it at all.
Maybe he was just in a bad mood. I decide to forget all about his grumpiness and focus on the way I feel right now—in this moment.
I decide to focus on each moment in that moment. I can’t worry about the past or the future. I don’t have it in me. I need to take life as it comes.
This is a life that I want to stay in, and if I don’t make this man happy, there’s a chance that whatever deal they have with my brothers will fall through, and I don’t want to know what would happen if I were sent back to Raul and Dutch.
Extending my arms, I grip the sheets tightly and push my hips backward and into him. He grunts, then I feel something warm and wet. It swirls. And I realize it’s his tongue. I pinch my eyes closed tightly as my breathing starts coming out in pants. My pussy pulses and aches, the pain subsiding as my body climbs and desires more.
His fingers move to my clit. He swirls me in both places simultaneously. It’s too much at once. My body trembles, it quakes, and then I come. I don’t even have an opportunity to cry out. It just happens.
I’m boneless right after I come, my entire body collapsing. But that doesn’t last for long. I’m only down on the bed for a moment before Kyle grips my hips and hauls them backward. His cock is instantly buried inside of me with not even a second to prepare.
My head flies backward, and I cry out. One of his hands grabs hold of my hair, tangling his fingers in it in an instant before he tugs my head back just a bit farther, enough so he can lean over and look into my eyes.
“You feel so fucking good, flower,” he murmurs. “Made for me, weren’t you?”
I don’t answer, mainly because my neck is arched so far backward that I can’t speak. His hips begin to move, and the pain in my center has returned. Maybe not so much pain as discomfort as he stretches me. I’m wet, and it feels good to have him inside of me, but I’m so sore, too.
With one hand in my hair, the other gripping my hip, he moves inside of me. It’s slow and easy as he consumes me over and over, until his thrusts become less and less even and more and more erratic. Then hard. They become rough, and my entire body trembles.
I don’t know if I can take much more. Everything hurts, it’s sore, but at the same time, I don’t want him to stop. Whimpering, I close my eyes, then he buries himself deep, and I feel him twitch inside of me.
