Pretty Things (The Pretty Trilogy #3) Page 24

  A pounding pulse hammers between my legs as Kai’s golden eyes stare back, his expression pained as he curves his body over mine. He rests his head against my shoulder, and with one heavily expelled breath, says something that resonates inside me almost viscerally.

  ‘Don’t let go.’

  The same words he’d whispered our very first time in this room, both hands curled over mine against the back of the chair. Three small words caressing and commanding in their delivery, a promise, almost, of what’s to come.

  Me! Me! Make it me!

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Air kisses my skin as he unfurls his body, the phantom of his touch shimmering along my spine. I’m so caught up in the promise of this moment, it takes me a beat to realise he’s stepped away, the mirror reflecting every knot of muscle in his naked back.

  Opening the armoire, he takes something out as he asks, ‘Do you remember you’re safe word, kitten?’

  My safe—‘What?’

  Closing the door, he speaks again. ‘Khallas. Remember that and—and I’ll stop. I promise.’

  I’m not sure which of us he’s trying harder to convince. And I know khallas is Arabic for stop, but a safe word? I’m familiar with the concept—I’ve read plenty of those kinds of books. Books where the heroine may or may not need protecting from her counterpart and, sometimes, from herself. What exactly does he have planned that I might need him to stop? What have I started here?

  My heartrate increases as he stills by the bed, gathering the scarf he’d worn moments earlier. Moving to stand behind me once more, his jaw is resolute. He places something on the seat of the chair between my legs, his skin hot against mine as he leans over, looping the silk through the crown of the chair.

  ‘Does this chair belong to the hotel?’ I’ll be asking questions about the wallpaper next—anything to drown the pounding in my chest.

  Kai’s laugh is filled with a lazy kind of mocking as he lifts my hands closer together before threading the silk between them. ‘Want to get one for home, habibti? I know how much you like to be strapped down.’

  Such a beautiful, detestable man.

  ‘W—what was that you put on the chair?’ I tilt my head over my shoulder, unable to see from this angle.

  ‘Eyes front.’ His gaze flicks to the mirror, shining dark gold. ‘Nervous?’

  ‘No.’ My answer is immediate and thick sounding, the hedonistic mixture of excitement and alarm dampening my skin. ‘Should I be?’ He shrugs lightly; a non-answer. ‘What are you going to do to me?’ From thick to a breathless encouragement; Kai straightens behind me with a languid sort of grace.

  ‘Anything I want, wasn’t that it?’

  My heart flutters wildly; the look on his face one of absolute seriousness. As he unzips his pants, he spreads my knees wider with his own, before lifting the point of my heel from the ground and encouraging me to place my knee on the seat. Tied to the crown, with my knees spread wide and my arse sticking out, I feel exposed. Vulnerable. Alive.

  The atmosphere between us feels all at once heavy and suspended; a charge of an electrical-like current snapping between us, ready to burn.

  ‘So you lied about the photographs.’

  My heart beats twice in rapid succession, immediately righting itself as I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

  ‘And you didn’t tell me you saw him.’ Essam; neither of us are willing to bring his name into this.

  I nod again.

  As fast as lightening, his hand reaches out, slapping my right butt cheek, the sound ricocheting around the room.

  ‘Answer me,’ Kai demands

  I realise I’ve bitten my lip—whether from surprise or a reluctance to cry out I’m not sure. I push them together as I swallow, trying to control my emotions, the urge to cry.

  ‘I did. Out—outside the house. Twice. I saw Sofia, too.’

  ‘Together?’

  ‘No. With your mother. She—I didn’t speak to her.’

  He nods once, the motion suggesting our almost meeting as inconsequential.

  ‘What did he say? What did my cousin want?’

  ‘To hurt you,’ I answer softly. ‘Through me.’

  ‘He tried to blackmail you? He wanted to fuck you in exchange for keeping the pictures quiet.’

  I nod, and as his reflection frowns, I add a quick, ‘Yes.’

  ‘And still you didn’t say? You kept it all to yourself. Tell me, kitten, what would you have done if I hadn’t come home?’

  ‘I don’t know. I-I thought—’

  ‘That you’d fuck him? Keep it all quiet? Continue to lie?’

  ‘No! You know that’s not true.’

  ‘Then tell me.’

  ‘I didn’t know what to do!’ My body slumps forward, my head against my bound hands. ‘I was trying to come up with some way to deal with it on my own. I’d lied to you, and no matter how pathetic it makes me, I didn’t want you to have to sort this out for me. I’ve felt so wretched. So ashamed.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Those pictures—I told you I’d never—and I hadn’t. Not really. Not like with you.’ Through a riot of tangled thoughts, I try to make him see that this felt like a betrayal. I lied, yes. A stupid reflex, but the way I’ve tortured myself hasn’t truly been about that. ‘That afternoon with Shane, it wasn’t the same. There was no intimacy, no real desire. No thought. It was, and it wasn’t, really a lie.’ It all sounds so pathetic, even to me.

  ‘So tell me.’

  I raise my gaze to our reflections; mine confused, his burning hot.

  ‘Tell me about this afternoon . . . these photographs.’ His hands find my hips as he flexes his body into mine just once. ‘I want to hear how it happened.’

  Slowly, it all begins to make sense. I’ve been here myself; that stage of imagining the images from which you can torture yourself. Images of the one you desire with the one you despise. Kai and Sofia wrapped in each other’s arms; Sofia on her knees.

  ‘W-we’d been at the beach with friends.’

  ‘Topless sunbathing,’ he suggests, his tone gravelly.

  ‘Yes—it was hot. Really hot. The weather I mean, and we’d all been drinking. Doesn’t make for good decision making.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Kai purrs from behind me, his fingers stroking my sides. ‘If not for Dutch courage, where would you and I be today? If not for wine,’ he continues in that delectable honeyed tone. ‘Would you have followed me to this room?’

  I dip my head, my hair falling forward to hide the thoughts he’s planted there. This chair. A night of firsts. I note abstractly that he doesn’t seem conflicted. More turned on.

  ‘Where were you?’ he asks softly, his light fingered touch making my skin tingle and my nerve endings sing. ‘Ah, yes. Drinking . . . with friends.’

  ‘No,’ I answer quickly, thinking back to Essam’s insinuation. One photographer or more? ‘That’s not how it happened. There we’re just the two of us. We—we went back to the roo-mmh . . .’ The word draws off, my body bowing as his fingers find me wet and ready as he strokes between my legs.

  ‘Did he touch you like this?’ Unable to answer, I shake my head as he slides his fingers inside me, my body pushing back onto his hand. ‘Like this?’ With a twist of his wrist, those long elegant fingers begin stroking my insides.

  I bite my lip even though I can’t answer; his words a heat rushing through my bloodstream, trailing fire under my skin. I keep my eyes down, knowing I shouldn’t look at him, because when I do I won’t stand a chance.

  ‘Want to know something?’ he asks, his teeth grazing the skin of my neck. I cry out, my head rising as he bites. His golden-eyed reflection looks like he’d burn to the touch. ‘You looked like a girl who didn’t know what a good fucking was.’

  ‘Yes. Please,’ I pant out.

  Kai’s laugh sounds like a groan, and my body sags to hide my distress as he pulls his fingers out. Leaning over me, he drags two wet, glistening fingers against my lips, trailing the s
cent of my arousal. Without conscious thought, my tongue darts out.

  ‘Not so uptight now,’ he reprimands, plunging his fingers back inside me again. ‘It’s one thing to know you’ve had other men—’

  ‘Man,’ I correct as a familiar sensation begins to build.

  ‘It’s another,’ he continues regardless, ‘to be faced with the evidence with your own eyes. Your lies.’

  ‘We weren’t—’ Fucking. Not like the photographs we took before he left for his business trip.

  His free hand grasps a handful of hair, bringing my head up fast. ‘You were naked and spread out on a bed. Please don’t insult my intelligence.’ Soft lips and harsh words. Why does this tone cause my insides to quicken?

  His hands retract, making quick work of his pants and the remainder of his clothes. My body stiffens as I hear the familiar tear of foil—a condom; something we haven’t used in a while. Does he not trust that I’m telling the truth?

  ‘Here’s what I think, kitten.’ His hands move to the seat of the chair between my legs, the fingers of one hand sliding down the crease between my butt cheeks. ‘Intellectually, I can appreciate everything you’ve said, but the animal in me is unmoved. You really should’ve given me time to cool down.’

  The head of his cock touches the round of my arse as he slides on the condom, his thumbs then between my cheeks. As though to break open a peach. It all happens so fast, I can’t process his actions. Can’t tie them in with his words, but as something cold and wet coats the cleft of my arse, my body stiffens, and I try to scoot away.

  Some knowledge is instinctual rather than cerebral.

  ‘Remember khallas?’ His voice is strained, control cracking in delivery.

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘The animal in me is unmoved. The husband in me feels cheated. And as your husband, I want the only bit of virginity you have left.’

  What? Though I’ve lead a pretty sheltered sexual existence until I meeting this man, that boat sailed a long time ag—ooh.

  ‘N-fuck—get off, Kai!’ I begin to pull against my silk bonds, his words beginning to make sickening sense, as at the same time, from the deep recesses of my mind, Niamh’s words float free.

  Messy sex is sometimes wonderful, sometimes a pain in the arse, quite literally.

  ‘No?’ he grates out in response. ‘Then you know the word.’ His expression is seven kinds of sinful smiling back at me through the glass. ‘You wanted to atone, and sweetheart, I want this.’ His knees dip, hips rolling into my rigid body. ‘Mihajik. I need you. Need this.’

  I’m not sure I’m up for this; despite reluctantly enjoying the small suggestion of play Kai introduced me to in Brisbane. I try to move forward, not getting very far, distance-wise, before Kai slides himself between my legs, the head of his cock suddenly gliding through my folds and nudging my clit. I whimper—libidinously—it sounds like encouragement, delicious sparking sensations coursing through my limbs.

  My hands scrabble for purchase against the chair as he fills me in one long stroke. One hand curled around my hip, Kai brings his other to my clit, the heel of his palm pushed against me. His thrusts are slow at first, before gathering momentum, but never quite giving me what I need. Short strokes—short of where I need him to be, my clit alternately rubbed by his palm and pinched between slippery fingers.

  ‘You. Want. This.’ Three words and three sharp thrusts. I call out as he hits the spot that ensures I’m tumbling over that precipice of no return. Unravelling further as what I guess is his thumb presses at my other opening—the exit only ramp.

  ‘Kai, don’t. I—’ My voice is quiet, more air than words and I can feel my whole body tightening. Tightening against the pressure of his thumb, yes, but I’m also very close to coming, too far past the point of no return.

  ‘You know the word.’ His voice is low and controlled as he drives deeply inside, holding me there—holding me against that unseen edge. My legs turn almost liquid beneath him as he takes the opportunity of my contracting muscles to slide his thumb inside.

  Oh, he’s done this before . . .

  My body stills immediately, still but for the pulsing between my legs. I’m panting and squirming, his cock unmoving inside me, his breath hitting me heavy from behind. His free hand follows the contours of my spine, and he places one soft kiss against my shoulder as his thumb withdraws. ‘Remember to breathe, kitten. And you’ll be okay.’

  Why does that sound slightly mocking?

  ‘F-fine.’ Even if I can’t look him in the eye.

  ‘If you don’t want to do this, you need to say. Before it’s too late.’

  ‘No.’ Don’t know what I’m talking about, more like. But I feel I need to stay the course. So far it’s not too bad. In fact, it’s a little more of the opposite.

  ‘You know, bravery and foolishness are often confused. It’s a fool that displays no fear. Bravery can be measured in a tremble.’ His hand ghosts my hip. ‘By the wavering of your voice.’

  I try not to swallow again. Yes, so I’m shaking a little bit. I bet he would be, too.

  ‘No. I’m good,’ I reply in the affirmative, surprised how adamant those words sound.

  ‘You’re always good, kitten. Even when you’re being bad.’

  And with that, he begins again, his cock pushing inside me, as his thumb presses once more against my arse. Before long, both appendages are pressing forwards and sliding backwards, working in tandem—working me in tandem. I feel so conflicted—it feels so damned dirty, and also sort of alien, physically, at least. Or at least for the first few thrusts. The actions quickly becoming sort of seductive and illicit, almost.

  Unfortunately, at the other end of my spinal cord, things aren’t as easily addressed. My brain kicks into overdrive even as the sensations begin to mount, a familiar destination dawning on the horizon.

  Dirty can be good, right?

  Dirty can be good; until my brain begins pushing ridiculous thoughts and memories at me, all at once.

  Things I once heard said about at girl in my high school English class.

  A girl who takes it up the arse is no one’s long term.

  Then, nugget! Nugget! What happens if, you know?

  Messy.

  Pain in the arse.

  Literally.

  ‘You’re thinking too hard.’ I sense Kai leaning back. ‘If you could see what I see . . . you’re all fucking deliciousness.’ With this hiss, I’m full of him once more, both appendages now further within. ‘Sweetheart, I want you to take all of me.’ And the end of his sentence sounds more animal than any verbal request.

  Something cracks inside me, something dark and hot and consuming, pierced by the exquisite desperation in his tone. I nod my head, and the noises I make could be an affirmation, but more of an affirmation is the way I’ve pushed myself up against him. My heart moves to somewhere in the region of my groin, as suddenly, I’m empty as Kai pulls away.

  Cold lube. Warm fingers. Then, the crown of his cock where I’d never ever imagined it would be.

  ‘I promised you I’d never lie to you.’ His voice is quiet, his tone oh-so serious. Placing the heel of his hand on my lower back, he pushes down, my butt now sticking further out. Conflicting emotions flicker and fade across his face, his brows drawn in as he speaks again. ‘I don’t think I can trust myself right now.’

  I tilt my head over my shoulder, trying to suppress, what no doubt Niamh would call my what the fuck face.

  His eyes burn bright in their cognac coloured hues, fiery with want and desire, and from what he’s about to do. So hot they sear my soul with the understanding that I’m here trying to right a wrong. I’m the one here confessing to lies.

  ‘I want this so badly. You’re mine. Do you hear me?’

  As I turn back to the mirror, I whisper, ‘Yes.’

  ‘I don’t want to hurt you, so I’m giving you the reins.’ I mirror his nod as he says, ‘Breath out slowly, then push back onto me.’

  My brain short circuit
s, his words a direct line between my legs. He wants this so badly, but I’m the one who’ll be doing this to myself? Sort of, anyway . . .

  The wet press of his cock brings me back to the moment, one hand at my hip, one holding himself.

  ‘Push back,’ he repeats, all commanding.

  My reflection blinks back at me, while Kai’s wears his dark expression so well. I swallow thickly, fear and desire coating my throat as I do as he says. Try anyway. Maybe this is what it feels like to be diabetic, having to inject yourself.

  Kai’s hand slides to my butt cheeks. And I push back. And back.

  ‘Breathe,’ he coaxes. ‘Exhale.’

  I do, my spine dipping in the action, my contracted muscles relaxing as he guides me backwards, right onto his wide crown.

  Tantric bum sex this is not. It pinches. It’s not comfortable at all. I resist the temptation to move forward, to exit the . . . exit only . . . entrance. Instead, I push further back as I catch a glimpse of Kai’s reflection, a look so profound; a mixture of agony and ecstasy and quite something else.

  ‘Breathe,’ he rasps again. ‘Fuck, Kate. That’s . . . that’s it.’

  As his lids roll closed I recognise the intensity; the agony, the ecstasy, the awe.

  The discomfort eases as I breach his head. And we still once again.

  I watch his reflection swallow, the sound powerful and restrained. ‘Again, okay?’

  I exhale, and bear down, pushing back further, and a little further still, undone by the catch in his throat. God, I want to do this. Want his fingers to tattoo his desire into my flesh, want his guttural exhales to shake the walls of this room.

  I shudder, reaching the part of him I feel I can take him no more.

  ‘Okay?’

  I nod a wordless yes, adding, ‘I can’t—can’t anymore.’

  But it seems I can, as he pulls my hips back onto him with a raspy exhale. ‘So fucking amazing.’ I think that’s what he says, this masculine growl of awe as I cry out from the pressure, pressing my nails into my palms. And so much for putting me in charge . . .

  But then it’s over. The sting has gone, replaced by . . . the sensation of fullness. Of being filled. Still and unspeaking, the sound of our breath fills the room, but my heart almost stops as he places his large palm against the base of my spine as he begins to withdraw. The slow drag is more erotic than pain or punishment. Sensual and controlled, almost, unlike the tremble in my legs. He pushes forward again. Same dance, different disco? Each drag is a little longer, each thrust a little deeper still, and as the heel of his palm finds my clitoris, the waves of intensity begin to build.