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I’d never had control.
That was what you needed me to understand.
Instead of hitting me again, you took the handle of the paddle and wedged it between my legs—not penetrating me with it, but using it to punish my clit. My thighs shook. My body quivered. My orgasm rose and rose. I closed my eyes against the torture.
You slipped your fingers deep inside and rubbed my G-spot.
It was so many sensations at once—the fire on my ass, the way the air teased my aching nipples. I was trapped. At your mercy—and my body was primed for release.
“Come for me, Charlie,” you growled, and I heard the desperate need in your voice.
I gave in. Couldn’t help it. My climax crested, exploded, cascaded all over me, you, the paddle. I rocked forward, losing my footing, stumbling but not falling, and you kept going, pushing my orgasm past the limits until I was screaming and moaning.
Regretting my actions of the day, my guilt was pummeled by pleasure.
You groaned against me, the heat of your body a balm against the burn you’d left on my skin. For a moment, I thought you were going to wrap your arms around me and give me comfort. Instead, you pulled away, and the void you left behind was colder than ice.
My arms fell loose, the binding gone, and I slid to my knees. I wanted you to fuck me—to take what you needed and join me in climax.
Instead, you came around to face me. You cupped my chin, then tilted my head up so I could meet your eyes.
“That was nothing compared to what I’ll do to you in real life if you ever fuck with the pack like that again.”
I blinked up at you, barely following your words.
“The days of me holding back are over.” You leaned in and kissed me brutally, your tongue forceful in my mouth. “You’re mine,” you growled as you broke away. “And sooner or later, you’ll wear my mark.”
Your possessive words made me shiver, and when you vanished seconds later, I mourned the loss of your heat, your vitality, your dominance and, as crazy as it sounded, your promise to bite.
Maybe the prophecy was right.
Maybe my destiny was already laid out.
Maybe, Kane, we were made for each other.
And that delicious revelation gave me more hope than I’d ever want to admit.
