by Donna Alam
‘Regardless,’ I think he growls. Sliding out of the car, long legs stride around its front.
‘I mean it,’ I call out as he clears the front, eyes full of determination. Then he’s there, yanking open the door and grabbing my hand.
‘And I mean it. I’m not letting you do this again. You can’t keep pushing me away.’ Hand in the crook of my arm, he almost marches me up the steps.
‘Me? You think this is my fault?’ With each tread, my temper rises. ‘Fuck you, this is your fault, yours and that sluts—let me go!’ Reaching the door, I try to yank my arms from his, without much success.
‘Put in the code, Kate.’ His fingers tighten on my arm, despite his quiet and reasonable tone. His tone is reasonable the first time, anyway. ‘Put in the fucking code.’
‘No. I’m not letting you in. I told you, I don’t want you—’
‘Liar.’ His hand brushes to my hip, pulling my body into his. I turn my head away, avoiding acknowledgment and hiding my reaction, how this touch stirs me to grab his face, kiss him brutally.
‘—don’t want you to come in,’ I grate out between clenched teeth.
That very moment the door buzzes open and a couple steps out, sliding us curious looks. Wishing them a bland ‘Good evening,’ Kai catches the door with his foot, pushing it wide. As immovable as granite, his eyes will me to make the first move.
‘You’re a bossy arsehole,’ I snarl, sweeping inside. The evening is too humid to stand arguing in; it certainly isn’t helping my temper. Plus, he’s as stubborn as the mule I’d like to walk by right now, just to watch it kick him in the nuts.
In the elevator, the atmosphere could quite easily be carved with a knife as we stand almost shoulder to shoulder, neither of us speaking a word. Silently fuming, I stare at the ceiling to avoid his reflection, which is no doubt burning holes in the mirrored door. But there’s a second reason for casting my eyes heavenward, and it’s not in the hopes of divine intervention. You see, if I don’t look, I might just be able to stop from throwing myself at him. I know it makes no sense at all and it’s a terrible idea—I’m also so angry I could scream—but, God, I do want him. From the set of his shoulders to the anger almost rolling off him in waves. I want to be lost in him, kiss those pillow-soft lips savagely. Make him sink to his knees as I mark possession with my teeth and gouge my name into his skin.
At my front door, I stick the key in the lock and turn to face him.
‘Thank you for bringing me home.’ I say this with a half-held breath and asperity dragged from the depths of my toes. ‘But this is where our evening ends.’
Without a word, he reaches past me and twists the key before I can clamp my hand over it.
‘Get inside.’
‘You’re joking, right? Because—’
‘Get inside before I fuck you right here, in the hallway.’
‘Fuck me?’ I sneer as he pushes past and in through the door this time. ‘Fuck me?’ I call, following him. ‘You’ll be lucky if I ever let you fuck me again!’
Whirling on his heels, his face is inches from my own. ‘Really?’ Sliding the jacket from his shoulders, he drops it to the floor and begins loosening the buttons of his shirt. ‘We’ll see about that, shall we?’
I narrow my eyes, hoping to convey an evil glare. ‘You’re delusional if you think—’
‘You’re mine and I’m yours,’ he says, untucking the loose shirt from his pants.
My eyes flit from his hard expression to the soft hair peeking above his belt and back again. ‘And it seems you need reminding.’
‘And it seems you need to fuck off.’
In a heartbeat, my back is pressed against the wall, hands held in his, their backs cool against the plaster. ‘Say that again and I’ll put you over my knee.’
You and who’s army, mate? Mouth twisted into a sneer of distaste, I enunciate clearly, ‘Fuck. Right. Off.’
He laughs, just once, kind of sadistically, and not like he finds me amusing at all. I can’t help but stare at his mouth, my eyes flickering now between his soft lips and hard gaze. I couldn’t stop the hitch in my throat even if I’d thought to, as he leans down, his mouth a whisper away from mine, just hovering there without touching.
‘You’re so transparent,’ he murmurs. Then he kisses me, one warm slide of his mouth against mine. Lifting his head, he eyes me almost dispassionately, my lust-glazed eyes and rapid breath no doubt contradicting my words.
His next kiss is harder, deeper, his tongue pushing into my mouth and this time I don’t just let him, I actively participate. Contribute, even, kissing him back with the same level of passion and aggression. My mouth hard against his, I sink my teeth into his bottom lip as he tries to pull back. Judging by the sound he makes—that sound, the one bordering on orgasm, the one that echoes between my legs—he’s as into this as I am right now.
‘Fucking tease,’ he grunts, pulling back once I allow him to do so. Now holding my wrists tightly in one of his hands, the other roams my body, kneading almost roughly, from my chest to my hips. ‘This is mine. All mine. Do you understand?’
‘That’s what you think.’ My voice is grating, delivered in a harsh breath, air constricting in my chest. ‘Shame I can’t say the same the other way.’
‘Meaning?’ His gaze follows his hand as it slides the length of my thigh, driving the tight material of my dress to my hip.
‘You’re a slut,’ I spit. ‘You’ll screw anything that moves. Wives, threesomes, all just another day in the life of Kai.’
His hand halts immediately, it—along with his body—stilling for a second, fingers frozen at my inner thigh. He blinks once before his eyes rise slowly to mine. ‘You’re screwing me. What does that make you?’
‘Sorry,’ I hiss. ‘Sorry I ever met you.’
Regret blooms instantly in my chest, the effect of my words reflected in his eyes. I close my own, turning my head for good measure, unable to watch his hurt. Or let him see my lie.
‘Look at me.’ His fingers are tight on my chin. ‘I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything, but I can’t change the past, or hide from it.’
My mouth twists into a sneer of distaste and I try to drag my wrists from his hands. This is so unfair and it hurts too much.
‘I hate that she knows you like that. Why do you have to have been such a slut?’ I also hate how my words end in a sob. ‘Fuck her and fuck y—’
He kisses me, cutting off my words, kisses me like my participation isn’t required or deserved. My knees weaken, but it doesn’t matter as he moves both his hands to my arse, dragging me against him and my feet up from the floor. He walks further into my apartment as I begin to struggle against him, against his hardness, Sofia’s words echoing in my head. His bed was still warm from my body when he took you to it. This isn’t a good idea, this depraved and sadistic kind of revenge fuck. I can’t do this—take my loathing of Sofia, of his past, out on his body.
‘Get off me, this isn’t right!’ My words border on hysteria between his hard and unforgiving kisses.
‘It’s so right, you and I. What we have.’ Lowering my feet to the bedroom carpet, he turns me, his arms tightening like a vice against my ribs. His hand slides to the zip at my side, the teeth and my breath the only sound in the room. ‘I can’t change the past.’ Helping my dress slide to the floor, his voice is oh-so-reasonable and almost bordering on regret as his hands move up my body, wrapping around me once more.
I’m defeated, here in his arms, a wave of need coursing under my skin. I want him to stop talking, to fuck me already. Fuck some sense into this.
‘And I’m not sure I would,’ he whispers into my neck.
‘What?’ I twist in his arms wanting to see his expression, because is it just me, or does that not sound regretful at all?
‘There’s a flip side to every decision made—experienced learned.’ Turning fully, I bring my hand across his face, hard. Learn that experience. My head aches with his swirling words. Wouldn’t chang
e, even if he could. Jerking back, he claps his hands over my twisting hips as I try to pull away. ‘Like the lessons you’re learning now.’
‘What.’ I pant, fighting still. ‘Like how to be hurt?’
And then he smiles, like a large, dark devil. ‘But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?’
Pushing me onto the bed, he flips me easily onto my front. Hands flying out behind me, I scratch what flesh I can reach.
‘See, I knew the kitten had claws,’ he says, a smile tainting his words.
‘Don’t call me that! Don’t you call me that!’
With his knees planted over my thighs, I continue to lash out, difficult enough from this position. Even more so as he captures my flailing hands, planting them next to my head.
‘Calm down.’
He looms over me, aroused, as I am myself, but calm I won’t be. Can’t, and I refuse to let him get the better of me. I’ve heard it said that when a person truly needs it, they can rely on a reserve of hidden strength. I’m not sure if it’s this or sheer anger, or if Kai just moves just an inch because, the next thing I know I’m on my back and not quite under him. Instinctively surging upwards, I bring my body up off the bed, twisting my hands into his hair and bringing my mouth hard to his. We kiss brutally, teeth clashing, hands grasping and tearing at our remaining clothes.
Lessons, my body cries, I’ll be the teacher today, as we each fight for the upper hand.
‘Damn you,’ I cry against his mouth. ‘I won’t go there again.’
‘Don’t confuse me with him,’ he growls back, pushing me further up the bed.
A hard arm around my waist, Kai flips me onto my knees. Fuelled by our collective fury, we grunt half-formed sentences and unconnected words. Simultaneously, his zipper sounds and he twists the waistband of my knickers at my hips, digging the fabric into my skin. With a tear of stitching, he rips the flimsy material from my body.
‘Don’t,’ I command, even as I push myself back into his lap. ‘Don’t fuck with me.’ A loud pulse begins to hammer in my head, from anger, from my wave of need.
‘Shut up.’ The words are deep and heavy and quite suddenly, I feel like I’ve been hit physically by them. In a good way. The kind of way which reverberates inside, driving me further. It’s kind of appropriate, as next his hand meets with my arse. Hard.
I cry out, the impact hardwired to my clit. ‘Oh, God, that.’ I moan low.
Who’d have thought that would be my response? And I’m definitely back to being taught.
His hand slides between my legs, fingers pressing into me and finding me wet.
‘Don’t tell me no, not when you don’t mean it. I need you,’ he growls, spitting the torn condom wrapper that he’s torn between his teeth. ‘I need you. Now.’ With a grunt, he thrusts into me, his body coating mine from behind.
I’m slick and wet and it’s easy. So easy. And sublime. Grasping the headboard in one hand, I crawl towards it, pushing up onto my knees, still uttering half-formed threats and arching my back. Kai’s hands are rough on my hips, pulling me into position before he smacks me again, harder this time and with a full, flat palm. The resulting sting is a delicious distraction from the chaos inside my head. I moan wantonly as he drives himself forward, exhaling shuddering breaths, almost as though the depth and force of him pushes the air from my chest. I arch again, my body following his retreat until his hand hits my cheek again and again. The noises are sharp and my breaths are shallow as he smacks, rubbing and pulling at my sore flesh in between.
‘Don’t talk that way.’ His hands are at once in my hair, but not to push me away. ‘There is only you,’ he whispers, once fully inside me again.
It’s hard and deep and it’s just what I need, his hands gripping and his body slapping against my still stinging skin. The paradoxical meeting of pleasure and pain blows my mind, my knees beginning to shake with the effort of bearing his thrusts. Deaf to the mayhem in my head, my lungs are tight and without breath. Hurt, anger, and love climbs along with my need as I come loudly, the metal of the headboard held tight beneath my hands, hitting the point of where there’s only him. Around me. Inside me. Coated in my come.
Kai withdraws, making a sound somewhere between a gasp and a moan. His breath blows against my shoulder in a halting shudder, joined by the sound of his hand moving quickly across his wet length. Unable to move, one of his hands still tangled in the depths of my hair, I resist the urge to touch myself as his noises heighten, the sounds of his pleasure filling the room.
At last, with one almost plaintive sigh, he comes, lashing my back in hot, wet bursts.
Chapter Sixteen
‘Kate, sweetheart. I need to move.’
I wake slowly, gathering consciousness about me, dragging myself from a dream where, on last night’s boat, Kai marries both Sofia and myself. Niamh in attendance, her plus one Rob, wearing a tux and a gimp mask. Then I notice the lump under my waist.
‘Sorry.’ I yawn, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I lift my body from Kai’s arm as it curls around me.
‘I didn’t want to wake you.’ He smiles a little sheepishly. ‘But I also didn’t want to lose the use of my arm.’
‘Are you saying I’m heavy?’ I mumble, still not completely sentient and trying to ignore the events of last night, dream and otherwise.
‘No.’ He laughs. ‘You don’t eat enough to be heavy. You eat like a bird.’
‘Yeah, a pelican.’
‘I’ve seen you eat. You eat next to nothing.’
‘Must’ve been on my best behaviour,’ I mumble. ‘Wait till you see me on a Macca’s run.’ I duck my head into the pillow. Seems sleepy Kate over shares, subtlety definitely not one of her strong points.
Peeling the pillow from my head, Kai throws it over his shoulder and onto the floor. ‘What’s your favourite food?’
‘Anything sugary. Chocolate, especially.’
‘A sweet tooth?’ he murmurs, pushing a wayward lock of hair from my brow.
I roll onto my side, away from his gaze. ‘Got a whole set of them.’ I yawn again.
‘Can I tell you something?’ As he props his chin against my shoulder, I’m pleased he can’t see my face as apprehension swells. Oh, God, please let it not be anything to do with last night. It wasn’t my finest moment. His either.
‘Depends,’ I murmur cautiously.
‘I need food,’ he growls. ‘I have appetites beyond the bedroom, woman.’
Relieved at the lack of startling or profound statements, I gesture vaguely to the door. ‘Kitchen’s over there. Help yourself.’ Though I doubt he’ll find much to sustain him. My cupboards would still make Old Mother Hubbard’s look like Paula Dean’s—I have only done one grocery shop. There’s probably muesli, but no milk and I know there’s peanut butter, but definitely no bread.
‘You mean you aren’t going to provide for your guest?’
‘Mate, this isn’t a hotel,’ I drawl, pulling the sheet over my head. ‘Purely self-service around here.’ I nestle further into the pillow, smiling to myself. Bet he doesn’t even know what a toaster is for. But he has other talents, so that’s okay, I suppose.
‘Really?’ he murmurs, that one word brimming with scandal. ‘So you won’t mind if I help myself to some of this!’ Smacking his hand against my butt, he grabs a handful.
‘Ow!’ I yell loudly, jarred upwards from the bed.
‘Fuck, I’m sorry!’ He moves his hand as I turn awkwardly to face him.
‘I’ll live.’ Strangely, I feel sorry for him. Odd when it’s my arse that’s smarting.
‘Does it hurt very much?’ he asks, clearly wary.
‘I’m not sure what you want me to say. It hurts so good or it hurts so bad? What’s the correct response for this situation?’
‘Just answer me honestly. How do you feel?’
‘Well, it’s not comfortable . . . now.’
His fingers rest on my cheek for a moment, eyes sincere. ‘And last night?’
‘Can we not. Talk ab
out it, I mean?’
‘I’m truly sorry. I never would’ve taken you anywhere near her, had I known.’
‘She’s defo not on my Christmas card list even if she does think we’re getting married—that was what she said, wasn’t it?’ I grimace at his wary expression. ‘I think she’s a bit mad myself. But,’ I add quickly, ‘I’m sorry, too.’
‘Why?’
‘The way I reacted, pushing you away and calling you names.’ For carrying on like a pork chop, as my mum would say. ‘Making you spank me,’ I add in a small voice.
Whatever he’s thinking, he seems reluctant to say, instead murmuring quietly, ‘As long as you’re okay.’
‘I am. I feel less . . . crazy now. Embarrassed, but hey, it’s not the first time, is it?’ My chest expands slowly as I inhale and close my eyes. I did push him to spank me—I wasn’t nervous or self-conscious but filled with a need and a desire for distraction. And this morning, I don’t know how to feel about that, other than a bit sore, obviously.
‘Open your eyes,’ he says softly. ‘Don’t hide, please. I relish your honesty at all times and no less in the bedroom. What do we have if we don’t have truth?
‘Illusion. Not a bad thing.’
‘How can that be good? You want to pretend you didn’t need last night? Come on, you practically shoved your arse onto my hand. I won’t pretend I didn’t take pleasure in your responses.’ Drawing back with a sigh, he whispers, ‘I thought we’d moved on from this. I’m not prepared to hide what I am.’
‘I like what you are,’ I reply hurriedly. But what he is, is kinky, which might make me the same. ‘I just want to pretend parts of last night didn’t happen.’ Sofia’s tricks, yes, but more specifically, acting like a brat and pushing him to spank me. I regret my words almost instantly; he looks wounded, physically in pain. Then his jaw sets, tension visible in the flexing muscles.
‘So you’re still lying to yourself, even though it was clear you were getting off.’