And why did she enjoy it so much?
Her ass hurt, the skin on fire, but her mind was at peace for the first time since everything had gone wrong.
No, maybe for the first time well before that.
It was as if each strike from his belt and each stroke of his palm calmed her, steadied her.
Her entire body hummed with pleasure, alive and sparking and desperate. The sounds that filled the room were filthy and beautiful, two things she had no idea could work together so well.
And she wanted more. Impossibly more. More pain, more of him, more of this moment.
“I want to keep you on this edge for fucking hours,” Dean said, his voice like she’d never heard it before. Normally Dean was well put together, charming, thoughtful. The man who spoke behind her now seemed none of those things. Instead, he sounded ravenous and broken. Still, he went on. “I want to spread your thighs wide and slap your cunt, make you cry until you break and you’re begging me to stop. I want to push you right to that edge and tumble off it with you, but you’re too fucking tempting.”
The belt landed beside her, as if he’d tossed it away, a moment before Dean’s large, strong hands gripped her waist and turned her over. Her back hit the mattress, and she was faced with his dark features, with a hard look on his face she’d never seen before.
It was like a different man, like someone she didn’t know.
It also let her see him without his shirt for the first time. That surprised her, made her frown. Dean had tattoos on his chest, something she hadn’t expected. Dean seemed so put together and clean cut that the idea of him having ink didn’t fit at all with the person she’d gotten to know.
She reached up to touch one, to stroke her fingers over something she couldn’t read but looked like letters.
Dean caught her wrist, his blue eyes boring into her. “Don’t ask,” he said, his voice strained.
Kat nodded, more due to the pain in his voice, because it took her back to her own hatred of her marks. She could understand that desire to hide.
Yet…she trusted him. In fact, this felt like the real man, like the one he’d hidden before, like she’d finally peeked beneath the façade he wore. Maybe that was one reason she’d avoided him before without realizing it, because she’d always known that what he showed at the club wasn’t who he really was.
And now that she got a look? She wondered how many others had seen it, and this tiny, jealous part of her hoped no one had. She wanted to believe that he had hidden it from everyone else, that she and she alone got to experience it, got to revel in it.
The thought couldn’t last long, however, not with how hungry they both were. Dean leaned down, over her, and took her lips in a devouring kiss that stole all her senses. His hard, wide chest rubbed against her erect nipples even through her tank top, teasing them, making her realize that he’d turned her so mindless with so little effort. He’d hardly touched her clit, hadn’t touched her breasts at all, and yet she wasn’t sure she’d ever been this turned on before.
He braced himself with one hand while his other shifted between their bodies. It took a moment before she realized what he was doing, when he broke the kiss and sat back on his knees, his slacks undone and his hard, tempting cock in his hand. He gestured at her nightstand. “Condoms?”
“Second drawer.”
He nodded and leaned up, crowding her as he reached for it.
And Kat, not one to submit easily, took the chance to wrap her own hand around his cock.
He was thick, the skin soft against her palm despite the hardness beneath. His masculine groan made her smile as she stroked him, playing with him simply because she wanted to, because she couldn’t help it.
“You know,” he said into her ear, his voice dangerously turned on. “You’re a fucking handful. Most subs are good girls who ask permission.”
“I’d say you’re the handful,” she countered before nipping at the side of his neck, leaving a small red mark there like a brand on his skin.
His laugh warmed her, the way that even her wild, reckless side didn’t drive him off.
The moment she thought that, however, she froze. That was too dangerous, too close to needing someone, which was only a small step from them growing tired of her. Hadn’t she learned that well enough?
Dean pulled back enough to look down into her eyes. Did he notice the change in her?
Probably.The man was far too observant.
Instead of addressing it or letting him, Kat fell back on what she always did—snark. “Hurry up. Men your age tend to have trouble keeping it up if you wait too long.”
He pressed his lips together, but she got the sense it was less about her barb and more about what he knew she was hiding with it.
“One of these days,” he whispered, “you’ll be honest with me.”