“Yes.” I pant, my skin inflamed, my body desperate, my pussy aching and soaking wet.
“Yes, what, baby?” Kayne massages my inner thigh.
“Yes, please fuck me. Make me come.”
“Oh, I plan to.” He spreads my folds wide and pours some wax right onto my swollen, throbbing clit.
“Holy shit!” My head spins and I buck in the swing as the burn of the wax does something inexplicable, makes my arousal magnify and my adrenaline spike almost like a runner’s high.
“Shit. Please. Please, I need you,” I beg as my climax teeters on a sharpened point.
“Say it again.” Kayne rips the vibrator out of my pussy.
“I need you! I need you!” I chant.
“Again!” He slams into me, quelling the ache, feeding the flame.
“I need you!” I shout as our hips clash together over and over, until my muscles tighten and milk his erection for everything it’s worth.
“Oh fuck, baby, come,” he growls as I soak us both, my climax making a mess on his cock and my inner thighs.
“Fuck!” he hisses as he plows into my pussy, steady and hard, like he’s cleaving through a turbulent sea. He doesn’t stop thrusting until he’s buried so deep, it feels like our orgasms become one.
“Kitten,” he rumbles disoriented as he pumps in and out, emptying himself inside me.
Left slack in the swing, Kayne grabs my face and kisses me lethargically until we both come back around.
“How do you feel?” he asks between flicks of his tongue.
“Exceedingly used,” I reply honestly, still unable to see him.
Kayne chuckles. “Exactly how you should feel. This is my body and I’ll use it however I see fit.”
“You never disappoint in that aspect,” I say, as he removes my blindfold.
“Did I hurt you?” He searches my eyes.
“Yes.”
Kayne frowns. “You didn’t use your safe word.”
“I didn’t want to use my safe word. You like hurting me and I like being hurt.”
It’s the ugly truth. I am the masochist to his sadist. I crave his pleasure at the same time demanding his pain. We are two misplaced pieces of a puzzle that fit perfectly together. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Kayne unstraps me from the swing and helps me to stand. My wrists are sore from straining against the restraints, my pussy is tender from the rough fuck, and my skin is prickly from the hot wax.
“Take a shower with me?” I ask Kayne as I nuzzle up against his toned, naked body.
“Do you really need to ask?” He tilts my chin up.
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted another one.”
“If it’s with you, I’d never say no. You should know that by now.”
A smile is my only reply. In the bathroom, I inspect his masterpiece in the brighter light. The playroom was dim. I look closely at the way the wax runs along my body, the pattern almost looks like letters. Wait. It is letters. K-A-Y-N-E
“Are you serious?” I turn to him.
“What?” He grins, proudly.
“You wrote your name on my body in hot wax?”
He shrugs nonchalantly. “You’re mine. Signed, sealed, and delivered.”
Hmm . . . where have I heard that before?
All I can do is shake my head and laugh.
Crazy man.
I SPACE OUT AS MY mother chatters away on the other end of the phone. “Tara bought me this adorable pair of earrings. I loved them so much I made her get a pair for you. They’re in the mail.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I half-heartedly respond.
“How’s the weather?” She changes the subject for the fourth time, trying to engage me. “It’s May and still cold here,” she says frustrated.
“Sunny and eighty-five degrees,” I inform her.
“I’m so jealous. I’m ready for some tropical climate. I keep trying to convince your father it’s time to move.”
I scoff to myself. “You know that man will never leave New York.”
“I know.” I can almost see her pout. “At least we get to visit soon. I can’t wait to see you.”
My parents make a trip out to Hawaii at least twice a year. I love it when they visit. My family is the one piece of my nearly perfect life that’s missing.
“I can’t wait to see you, too,” I respond sullenly.
“Oh, honey. Try not to think about so much.” Her voice softens. “It will happen when it’s supposed to.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.” She’s resolute. “Dad wants to say hi. I love you.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
“How’s my girl?” My father asks the same question in the same parental tone every time I speak to him.
“Fine, Dad.”
“Mmm hmm. How’s that husband of yours treating you?”
“Like a princess.”
“He better be. Don’t want to have to come out there and crack any skulls.”
“Dad . . .” I actually chuckle. You know that old saying girls marry their fathers? I think it’s true. A possessive, overprotective man raised me, and then I went and married one. Thankfully, as much as they are alike, my father and Kayne have a wonderful relationship.
“Miss you, sweetheart. I can’t wait to see you.”
“Me, too,” I reply, trying to mask my blue mood.
I hang up with my parents and go back to staring at the picture on my computer screen. I’ve been looking at it most of the morning. A survivor and her five-year-old son standing on the Great Wall of China smiling brightly. It was accompanied by a thank-you letter I received in my inbox.
Dear Mrs. Stevens,
I can never say thank you enough for the generosity of your organization. I never dreamed I would leave the country, let alone get to experience another culture in such an unbelievable way. Hope and happiness are sometimes hard to come by, but you have given me both.
Sincerely,
Stacy
I usually love receiving letters like this. Hope and happiness, that’s exactly what I want to provide. I receive so many requests, so many stories of pain and brutality, of people looking for an escape or distraction from their experiences, even if just temporarily. But seeing her hold her child in her arms does nothing but make me sad.
Kayne and I have been trying to conceive for over six months and nothing; not even a late period.
I inspect every feature of the little boy’s face—shaggy brown hair, big blue eyes, and olive skin. But it’s his smile that destroys me the most. He isn’t looking at the camera; he’s looking at his mother. Sometimes I wonder if I am being punished for not wanting to have children in the first place, and now that I do, more than anything, I feel like a failure as a woman. Like I’m incapable of doing the one thing a female is meant to do. Give her husband a child.
“Ellie?” I hear Kayne before I see him and discreetly wipe away the moisture in my eyes.
“Yeah?” I attempt to sound upbeat as he leans on the doorframe of my office.
“You ready to go?”
“I see you are.” He’s dressed in his black fatigues and gun holster, looking undeniably hot. My stomach flutters as I think back to the other night and how he arrested me for indecent exposure. What that man can do with handcuffs and a nightstick should be illegal.
I close my laptop and stand up, knowing I need either a cold shower or a firm fucking. Both of which will have to wait. Kayne is leaving on an overnight training exercise and dropping me off to stay with London while he and Jett are gone.
Grabbing my packed bag by the front door, I hop into our souped-up Jeep as Kayne locks up the house.
My mind wanders as we drive past all the beautifully manicured homes in the neighborhood. All pristine and vibrantly green.
“Are you and London going to behave tonight?” Kayne asks, squeezing my knee playfully.
“I can’t promise anything. We get lonely when you and Jett are gone.”
“I bet.” He smiles salaciously, no doubt picturing us together.
“Still, you better behave.”
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I foresee a G-rated evening of nail painting, Frozen, and pizza.”
Kayne shakes his head, his dark sunglasses concealing his eyes. “Poor Becks.”
“He’s a man, he’ll sleep through most of it,” I assure him.
Jett, London, and both children are outside on the expansive front lawn when we arrive. On cue, Layla darts across the grass to Kayne while London and Jett sit with a sleeping Beckett on a blanket.
“See, I told you.” I nudge Kayne as we walk up. “Sleeping already.”
He chuckles while throwing Layla around. “Higher, peanut butter!” she squeals, and Kayne obliges.
“What did you do?” I sit down next to London and grab a strand of her hair. She makes a face like she’s not sure how she feels about the chop job.
“You like it?” she asks unsurely.
“I love it.” Her long purplish red hair is now a shoulder-length bob.
“I feel like I needed to simplify my life.”
“So you cut off all your hair?”
“It was a start. You’ll understand when you have kids.”
I drop my eyes. “If I ever I have kids,” I mutter to myself.
London puts her hand over mine. It’s her discreet understanding gesture.
“Okay! Time to go!” Jett stands up at a breakneck speed and snatches Layla right out of the air before she drops back into Kayne’s hands.