Page 68 of Pistols & Peonies

I want to feel something other than this urge to scream.

Kane just watches me, silent and steady, as if he knows exactly what’s churning through my head. That stare alone is enough to make me squirm, the subtle heat behind it pressing in on me until I want to crawl out of my own skin.

Suddenly, I can’t sit still anymore. I push to my feet, crossing the short distance between us and stopping right in front of him.

He tilts his head, dark eyes tracking down my body before lifting back to my face. “What?”

I hesitate for half a heartbeat– just long enough to fully commit– then ease down to my knees.

He blinks, momentarily caught off guard. Before I can overthink it, I reach for his belt and pop the buckle free. His breath hitches, but he doesn’t make any move to stop me. Instead, he leans back, intent sharpening into something darker.

“What are you–” he starts, but I cut him off with a reckless smirk.

“I think you know,” I say, working his pants open and slipping my hand inside.

He’s already half-hard, and he grows to full size the second my fingers close around his girth. I stroke him once, twice, then glance up to meet his gaze as I tug his boxers down and free his cock, daring him to object.

He doesn’t. Instead, he sinks a hand into my hair, tightening his grip just enough to tilt my head back, leaning his face down over mine.

“I meant it, you know,” he rasps, voice rough. “You’re perfect the way you are.”

My belly does a traitorous little flip, and I immediately deflect with a bitter chuckle. “You know you don’t need to butter me up. I’m already on my knees, Commander.”

A half-smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Then what are you waiting for, mate?” he asks, cocking a brow as his hand tightens in my hair.

I roll my eyes, but my face is hot, my body even hotter. He guides my head down over his lap, and I put up zero resistance. My lips part to take him in, tongue swirling over his velvety crown. He groans, low and guttural as I work him deeper, showing him my gratitude without saying a single word.

Kane curses as the head of his cock bumps the back of my throat, fist curling tighter in my hair. The tiny pinpricks of pain are like a shot of adrenaline, heat flooding my core as I start bobbing up and down over his lap, his hand in my hair guiding me with gentle but unyielding pressure. I quickly find a rhythm–slow at first, then building, letting the intensity creep up until his hips are bucking involuntarily and his breathing is nothing but short, ragged pants.

“Goddamn,” he chokes, head falling back against the cushion. “That feels so fucking good.”

I hum in response, the vibration making him shudder. Then he suddenly releases my hair and leans forward, sweeping the straps of my dress off my shoulders. The fabric slips down my body, pooling around my knees as I let it fall to the floor.

Kane sits back and takes a second to just look at me– kneeling between his thighs, naked except for a pair of lacy black panties, mouth stretched around his cock– and the look on his face is pure, feral, possession.

“Fuck, I can smell you,” he growls, bucking his hips to push in a little deeper. “Sucking my cock is making you wet, isn’t it mate?”

I hum in response again and he hisses a curse, fingers threading into my hair.

“Slip those panties off and show me,” he commands.

As if he’s the one in control here.

I hollow out my cheeks, sucking harder, daring him to fucking make me.

He rises to the challenge, fisting my hair and pulling me off his cock. He tugs my head back, forcing me to meet his eyes as he growls, “Now, mate.”

My breath stutters, heart threatening to beat out of my chest as I reach down to peel my panties down my legs. I clumsily kick them off, then rise back up on my knees in front of him, breathless with anticipation.

His gaze drops, nostrils flaring. Then it lifts to meet mine again, pupils blown wide. “Use your fingers to spread that pretty cunt open for me.”

My cheeks burn, but the heat pulsing between my thighs is too intense to ignore. I trail a hand down my stomach, then lower, watching the way he reacts as I follow his command.

“Fuck,” he rasps, eyes clouded with lust. His jaw tightens, the muscle in it feathering like he’s barely holding on. Then he lowers my head back over his lap, and I take him into my mouth greedily, moaning around his thickness.

“Touch yourself for me, mate,” he pants, hips thrusting to match my movements as I set a rhythm again. “I wanna watch you make yourself come while you suck my cock.”

I typically don’t like being told what to do, but in this context, when he puts it like that… yeah, I absolutely will. I’m so worked up that I can’t even think straight, fingers working my clit in fast, desperate circles as he guides my head over his cock. My body winds tighter as he fucks into my throat with shallow, controlled thrusts, trembling with the need for release.