My pussy was already drenched, my breathing shallow, my body taut with expectation and excitement.
Karson didn’t bring his hand down as I expected. His hand skimmed my ass. “You’ve done your research on me,” he continued. “I’ve done mine on you. I’ve been inside you, Wren Whitney. I've seen you face off against me for your friend, even though you could see exactly who I was. Without fear. Without care for your own wellbeing.”
His hand was still brushing over the skin of my ass, creeping down to the inside of my thigh, almost to the apex before moving back up.
It was torture.
I didn’t dare move.
Didn’t dare speak.
“You fly planes,” he continued his ministrations, his light touches exquisite torture. “You know how to circumvent a very fucking complex security system. You’re fluent in three languages and passable in two more. You’ve created two successful businesses then handed over the running of those businesses to employees you knew wouldn’t get a chance any other way.”
His words filled up my head. Although I shouldn’t have been surprised, I was stunned by what he’d learned.
“There’s a lot of other very fucking impressive things that speak to the depths inside you,” he told me with a rasp to his voice. “But we’d be here for longer than I want if I listed them all. And I’m aching to punish you, darlin’.”
He gripped my ass to the point of pain. I gritted my teeth, my body already primed and ready to explode.
Karson didn’t make me wait a moment longer.
His hand left my ass, and the air whistled ever so slightly before his palm came down with a sharp slap.
I let out a hiss of pain and pleasure, my pussy throbbing with need.
His hand rubbed circles on the tender skin.
His other hand took a handful of my hair, twisting me upward to face him so he could lean down to kiss me savagely.
“I’m far from done, Wren,” he growled against my mouth. “So hold the fuck on.”
I did my best to hold the fuck on. But at some point, I left the earth once more.
We were in bed. It was the middle of the night. Apparently, Karson got the night off from doing villainous badass things, because he had been on the phone for thirty minutes after we’d showered, then came to tell me we were leaving in the morning.
He’d told me when we were leaving.
As if he was in charge.
Even though he had just had me over his knee a couple of hours ago and made me beg to come, I’d put my hand on my hip and prepared to launch into a monologue about how I decided when we were leaving since I was the one flying the damn plane. But then he’d crossed the distance, thrown me over his shoulder and taken us to the bedroom. For the next hour, I could barely remember my own name let alone launch into any kind of monologue.
Afterward, I’d slipped gently off to sleep. In Karson’s arms. And that was where I woke when the night was still thick around us, the smell of sage on the breeze mingling with Karson’s scent.
He was awake. I knew it the way you could sense another person’s awareness by the way they held their body, the cadence of their breathing, the fact he was drawing slow, lazy circles on my back.
“We’re not going to tell anyone about this,” I broke the silence.
He stopped drawing circles on my back. I was mad at myself for puncturing that moment of contentment, of intimacy between us.
“We’re not?” Karson’s tone was flat, carefully even.
“No,” I replied, not moving my head from its spot on his chest. “For now, I’m not going to tell my girlfriends. If we do happen to encounter each other in public, you will be the man I argued with that time on the sidewalk.”
I felt slightly guilty about what I was demanding. I cared about Karson. There was no way for me to deny that now. I did not want to hurt him. But I did not want to bring our … relationship into the light, have to act like it was yet another one of my flings. I didn’t have the strength to lie to my girlfriends like that.
Not yet, at least.
And, who knew? Maybe we would get enough of each other, the flame would extinguish itself before the need to tell my friends came up.