“I’m not good at this, Kane,” she gasped as her desire continued to grow far past anything she’d ever experienced. “I can’t...”
“Yes, you can.” He reached up beneath her dress and began peeling away her stockings with excruciating slowness, the pads of his fingers wreaking havoc with her central nervous system. “And each time you think of our wedding night, the memories alone will make you come.” His words, filled with smug arrogance and the husky way he growled them, had her shaking with anticipation.
With the stockings gone, his hands left licking trails of fire on her flesh. They moved up and down, stroking her with the pads of his fingertips, the backs of his knuckles, the rough callouses of his palms.
*
“Kane, please,” she begged when he finally brought his hands up to start undoing the front buttons that ran the length of her dress.
“I love it when you say my name,” he crooned, releasing the first button – with his teeth. “Say it again. Every time you say my name, I will relieve you of another button.”
“Kane,” she moaned, arching her chest toward his mouth in an attempt to hurry him along. “Kane, Kane, Kane...”
“Ah, now that’s a penalty,” he said, nuzzling her breast through her dress. “Time-out.” Instead of moving to the next button, he let his tongue glide along the skin he had already revealed.
“Kane!” she cried. “Please, take pity on me.”
“Pity? No,” he breathed, letting the hot, moist heat roll over her fevered flesh. “I have no pity for you, sweetheart. Infinite love, yes. Undying devotion, definitely. Unquenchable lust, absolutely. But pity? Never.”
Kane pulled on her legs with a sudden, unexpected tug, flattening her back against the bed. Then he was above her, straddling her legs to keep them in place as he continued the task of undoing the buttons. For the time being, he allowed her the use of her hands. They felt wonderful across his shoulders and biceps as she reached for him, eyes glazed with the same desire he felt coursing through his veins.
By the time he finished the last fastening, she was gasping for breath. He parted both sides of the dress and stared down at her. “So beautiful...” he murmured. The scars still filled him with rage and a thirst for vengeance, but now they did something else, too. They made him realize that everything she had gone through had prepared her for him by shaping her into who she was. Kane could never have been happy with an unmarred, fragile woman. To love him, a woman would have to be steel inside. She would have to know pain, and death, and loss. Because without those things, she would never be able to understand or love him.
“Enough,” he said, more to himself than to her. With two quick swipes he tore the dainty little panties and matching bra wrapping her lovely body, exposing her fully to his hungry gaze.
And then, a man possessed, his mouth was on her, devouring her. Kissing. Licking. Biting. Sucking. He tended to every scar, every reminder of the suffering she had endured, with reverence. He could not touch her enough, could not taste her enough. When he forced himself to pull away, he was breathing every bit as heavily as she was.
He lifted her into his arms and carried her into the bathroom, where a sunken tub awaited. Steam rose from the heated water, scented oils filled the space with a heady, musky fragrance. Without regard for his slacks, he carried her down the steps until he could place her on the seat. Only then did he climb back out and begin to remove his own clothes.
“Don’t I get to undress you?” she asked, her eyes nearly glowing as she watched.
“Next time,” he growled. Christ, if she so much as touched him right now she would unman him. That was not a memory he wanted of their first night together.
With that in mind, he spent the next twenty minutes washing her hair and her body. He was thorough, paying attention to every sensuous detail. But when he reached the area between her legs, he was extra attentive. Each time he ran his fingers over her sex she sank her nails into his shoulders and ground her hips against him.
“Easy, sweetheart,” he crooned, but she was beyond listening to reason. He had pushed her too far. With unexpected strength she cleaved to his upper body and thrust herself against him.
“Need...you...” she begged. “Please...”
“Okay, baby, okay.” His fingers stroked her, parted her as she opened her legs for him. “Look at me, Rebecca. I want to see your face when you come for me.”
One arm ensured her head remained above the water – she was nearly boneless now – as his other hand sought to give her the relief she so desperately needed.
She was so wet; even in the hot, oiled water he could feel the heat roiling from her, feel her thick sweet juices spilling for him. His thumb found a gentle rhythm against her sensitive nub while he allowed his middle finger to extend down and penetrate her.