Desiree
Khane lifted and assisted me by wrapping my weak legs around his waist before carrying me into the house and into the bedroom. He stood me in front of the large bed before his fingers began plying my puckered nipples. His heavy gaze smoldered, reflecting the heat of our relentless passion.
There were no more words, only our actions as he leaned in and reciprocated my kiss with a delicious one of his own. The way his tongue slipped over my lips with just enough pressure to tease them into a tingle made me feel the heat all the way down in my lower lips. With very little effort, he was turning me into a flowing bed of fire.
Before I allowed myself to fall as heavily under his spell as I had been in the garage, I took a little timeout to enjoy his exposed body. “You are an extraordinary man,” I uttered under my breath, hypnotized as my hand skimmed the ink covering his chest.
Some were cryptic symbolism that held secrets about his life. The mountain of guns spewing fire like an erupting volcano covering the front of his right shoulder must have represented the Ferali Syndicate. Other symbols like the skinny slanted black stripes up his left arm, I believed represented the kills he had mentioned marking before. At a glance, I could tell that there was well over a hundred stripes, revealing how long and how well he executed his job of dispensing death.
I walked around him, pausing our fiery foreplay as I feasted on a different kind of heat. I could get off just exploring Khane’s body. I allowed my fingers to flirt, watching them glide along an Adonis belt that made my mouth water before dipping into and lingering over his rolling abdominals. His pec flexed under my aching fingertips when my hand stopped there.
I toyed with his back muscles. The hot currents of his silky hardness melded into the flow of my hunger. “You are absolutely magnificent,” I stated, complimenting him. It would take a lifetime to find the right words to describe him, so I didn’t waste time trying.
“Thank you.” His low and easy tone alone was capable of reaching places no one else had even stroked.
Khane had the kind of body you prayed for in a sexual partner. He was cut everywhere, chiseled and strong, bulging, and all male. I shook my head at the sight of him, not believing I was living out one of my explicit fantasies. Except this was better than any dream I’d ever had.
I lightly pressed my lips over the three dark bruises in his chest where he had been shot. He was so unbothered by the deadly episode that he’d managed to make me forget that it had only been hours ago that our lives teetered on the brink of no longer existing.
His fingers grazed along the knife wound in my lower back and lingered there. “Knife wound,” I told him. “The result of one of my father’s girlfriends. She was angry at him for cheating on her, so she took me hostage when I was eleven and threatened to kill me if my father didn’t fulfill her demands. He listened, but all she wanted was to make him pay. She stabbed me in the back, and he shot her dead for doing so. I had laid there, a bloody mess, my father unable to stop the bleeding as we waited for medical help to arrive.”
His fingers were still stroking the wound as he glared into my eyes. He bent and placed a sweet kiss on my lips.
Khane likely knew about all my wounds, all my tattoos, and all of the little hidden things that no one else knew about except Mecca. A roadmap of scars was scattered all over his body, and I was interested in learning how he had gotten each of them. Since there wasn’t much I hadn’t noticed about him, I was aware that most were either covered or camouflaged by his tattoos.
From what I’d learned about his training and his father’s treatment of him, I was sure that the majority of them had come as a result of his upbringing. However, right now, I didn’t have time to get a history lesson as something more urgent called. I was a glutton for the only man that had given me satisfaction so explicitly strong that I would have done anything for him.
Once I had my fill of another of his insatiable kisses, my hands dropped and reached out for his dick. The gesture was like a missed introduction as it produced a strong wave inside my hands. The man was so well hung that the first sight of him had stressed me the hell out.
The sight of my hand stroking him and the texture of it, so velvety hard in my aching palm, awakened a part of me that was primal in a way that couldn’t be tamed by anyone but him.
The stroking made him groan as he weaned me from his dick with an easy pull back. He proceeded to lift me with effortless speed and strength, which caused me to gasp before I was tossed on the bed.
My elbows pressed into the soft mattress as I scrambled to sit up, captivated by his hypnotic presence. He truly was living art, and he had no idea what the sight of him did to me.
When he nudged me with ravaging intent in his gaze, I helped, scooting back until I was in the center of the bed. Once he had me laid atop the mattress, I glanced down and immediately saw the results of us, still easing from my aching sex, drizzling down like melted ice cream.
He was the only man that had ever come inside me, the only one I’d ever been with unprotected. The act alone was a clear sign that I had lost myself in him. For the first time in my life I think I knew how it felt to be obsessed with a man.
When he stepped away, I wanted to protest until he returned with a warm wet towel that he used to wipe us clean.
The tender strokes he was using to clean me brought me a gift of quiet pleasure that had my nipples granite-hard, and my flowing heat below bubbling to a boil. He tossed the towel atop the dresser and climbed into bed with me, approaching with caution like I might tell him to stop.
I allowed my legs to fall apart as I spread them wider, my pussy already leaking and glistening against the dim lighting of the lamp. At the sight of me opening for him, he kneeled above me, before running his fingers with light strokes up and down my thighs.
He sat in place, staring, not ravaging me like I had expected. The crease in my forehead deepened when he turned and moved away.
The furrow dissolved and fell into my smile when he turned into a sitting position with his back against the hardwood of the headboard and reached for me. As soon as my hand was in his, his strong grip tugged me off the mattress before I was lifted and assisted into place astride him.
“Ride my dick Desiree.”
His heated demand damn near made me cum. I was starting to believe that the right combination of words from him had the power to induce an orgasmic response.
“Gladly,” I responded, giddily. Joy consumed me, seeped through my pores, and perfumed the air as I reveled in a sensation that had been elusive to me. What was this man doing to me? Ruining you, so that you never want anyone else, the damn nagging voice in my head replied.
His thick dick greeted me, standing between us, hard and strong, poking at my belly button. I eased my hands over his broad shoulders, pulling myself closer as my fingertips glided over the big muscles at the top of his back and dipped into the solid grooves of them.
I went in for a kiss, unable to resist sharing with him the rainbow of emotions flowing through me. My tongue played at the edges of his sexy pink lips before I sought another taste of his mouth. When he moved his tongue against mine, I sucked on it, loving the flavor of him, cherry licorice and fresh mint, mixed with the salty-sweet taste of my pussy. The scent of him had done things to me way before now, but tasting Khane brought on a whole other level of untamed passion.