Page 61 of Pistols & Peonies

Reaching for the handle, I flip the water on, but Kane’s arm hooks around my waist before I even have the chance to step underneath. He yanks me over to his shower in one effortless motion, drawing me back into his chest. The hot water rains down over us, his arm around my middle locking me in place against him.

“You still smell like defiance,” he growls, bringing his washcloth around the front of my body. He drags it down the center of my chest between my breasts, the soap lathering on my skin, his mouth at my ear. “And here I thought that lesson in my office might actually stick.”

My breath catches as he slides the washcloth lower, trailing suds down my belly. Then lower still, slipping it between my thighs. The friction of the cloth against my sensitive clit has me choking on a gasp, arching against him.

“Guess you’ll have to try harder next time,” I taunt, every word strained, breath gone ragged.

He tosses the washcloth aside and spins us around so I’m facing the tile, his body caging me in from behind. “Hands on the wall, mate,” he commands, voice edged with steel.

It shocks me how quickly I comply. Palms flat, head bowed, zero hesitation. Because I know what comes next, and I want it so badly it aches.

His fingers sink into my hips as he kicks my feet apart, positioning me to his liking. Then he lays one big hand across the small of my back to hold me in place, my muscles tensing as I brace for the first strike.

“Count,” he orders gruffly, then his palm comes down on my right ass cheek with a firm smack.

It lands hard enough to make me gasp, the sting shooting straight up my spine as the sound echoes through the locker room like a gunshot.

“One,” I grit out, because I’m not about to show him weakness.

The next slap comes almost immediately. His palm connects with my opposite cheek, the jolt of pain making my teeth clench and my toes curl.

“Two,” I manage, breathless.

“Good girl,” Kane murmurs, rubbing away the sting. “Such a fast learner.”

As tempted as I am to snap back at him, I don’t. Because I don’t want him to stop, and the effect of his praise is like a spark to gasoline. It ignites something deep inside me, heat licking up my spine, my blood turning molten in my veins.

My legs shake as he spanks me again and again, and I struggle to keep count while he sets a mind-numbing rhythm. Each strike is a little harder than the last, controlled and precisely paced, my body humming with sensation. After five, the burn is real, but so is the throbbing heat between my thighs.

By seven, I’m biting my lip to keep from moaning.

By ten, I can’t hold back.

“Please!” I cry out, not sure if I’m begging him to stop or to keep going.

His hand smooths over the curve of my ass, then dips between my legs, fingers sliding through the slickness that’s built with every slap. “Look how responsive you are,” he growls, voice gone rough. “So wet for me, mate.”

I whine in protest as he withdraws his touch, but then his palm comes down again, right against my pussy. My knees buckle as I choke on a yelp, his fingers lingering to rub circles against my clit until I’m trembling so hard my legs nearly give out. Then he replaces his fingers with the broad head of his cock, lining up and thrusting in deep.

The angle is perfect, the effect devastating. I’m so wound up that I instantly detonate, coming so hard that I collapse forward against the wall, Kane’s grip on my hips the only thing keeping me upright.

He chokes out a curse as my body clenches around him, fucking me through my climax like he’s drilling in a lesson. That there’s freedom in surrender, that letting him take control can feel less like loss and more like release. Every stroke is both a punishment and a victory, brutal and exacting, drawing out my orgasm so long it feels neverending.

By the time it finally ebbs, I’m delirious with sensation, panting and shaking as I push back to meet him thrust for thrust. His fingers dig bruises into my hips as he pounds into me relentlessly, chasing his own release while driving me to the edge of oblivion.

This is exactly what we needed. It’s not about me, or him, or the stupid bond– only pure physical hunger, rooted in flesh, not thought. Simple. And so damn satisfying.

Kane slams into me with a guttural groan as he reaches his climax, the sound vibrating through my whole body. The heat and force of it tips me over the edge again, and the next thing I know I’m coming right along with him, fireworks exploding behind my eyes as another wave of pleasure takes me under.

Slowly, we both come back into ourselves. Water pounds down on the tile at our feet, steam swirling in the air around us, our bodies pressed together so tightly that there’s no telling where I end and he begins.

Kane’s the first to move. He pulls out and spins me around to face him, catching my chin in a hand and angling my face toward his.

“You done fighting me?” he rasps.

A laugh bursts from my chest, my body sagging back against the tile. “Keep fucking me like that and I might start behaving.”

A slow smirk curves his lips. Then he leans in, claiming my mouth in a filthy hot kiss.