Chapter 4
His mouth was hot and commanding, nothing like the tentative college boy I remembered.
He kissed me like he'd been holding it in for six years and had run out of patience. His hand tightened on the back of my neck, angling my head so he could go deeper, his tongue stroking mine until I was gasping against him.
My body — starved of touch for longer than I wanted to admit — ignited instantly. My nipples peaked hard beneath the thin t-shirt, and between my thighs I was already slick, aching with a need that embarrassed me.
Kade pulled back just enough to look at me. His pupils were blown wide.
"Tell me to stop," he said, voice raw. "If you want me to stop."
I didn't want him to stop.
I reached down and pressed my palm against the front of his joggers. The shape of him — thick, rock-hard, straining against the fabric — made my core clench.
"Don't stop," I breathed.
Something snapped in his expression. He gripped my waist and pulled me into his lap so I was straddling him. His cock pressed directly against my center through the thin layers between us, and I ground down involuntarily, already desperate.
"Six years," he growled against my throat, hands sliding under my shirt, pushing it up. "I've thought about this for six fucking years."
His palms found my breasts — cupped them, squeezed. His thumbs circled my nipples, rolling and pinching until I whimpered and rocked my hips harder against him.
"Kade—"
He yanked the shirt over my head and looked at me — exposed, panting in his lap — with an expression like hunger and reverence combined.
"You're perfect." He ducked his head and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, his tongue flicking the stiff peak. My head fell back, my fingers raking through his hair.
His hand slid down my stomach, into the waistband of the sweatpants, beneath my underwear. When his fingers found me — soaked, swollen — he groaned against my breast.
"Jesus, Elena. You're dripping."
Two fingers stroked along my slit, parting me, gathering the wetness before circling my clit in slow, maddening passes. I bucked into his hand, shameless.
"More," I gasped. "Please—"
He pushed two fingers inside me, curling them against that spot, and I cried out. His thumb found my clit, pressing and rubbing in tight circles while his fingers thrust in and out, the wet sound obscene in the quiet room.
"You sound so good," he murmured, biting my earlobe. "Come for me, Elena."
My orgasm hit like a wave — sudden, blinding, my inner walls clenching around his fingers as I shook apart in his lap.
Before the aftershocks had faded, he lifted me, shoved the joggers down, and I saw him properly for the first time.
He was thick, long, the swollen head already leaking. My mouth went dry.
He positioned me over him, the tip pressing against my entrance, and looked me dead in the eyes.
"You want this?"
I sank down onto him in answer. The stretch was almost too much — he was bigger than I'd ever taken — and I gasped, digging my nails into his shoulders.
"Fuck," he gritted out, hands bruising on my hips. "Fuck, you're tight."
I rolled my hips, taking him deeper, and his head fell back against the couch, throat bared, tendons taut. I rode him — slow at first, then faster, chasing the building pressure.
His hands gripped my ass, guiding my pace, pulling me down harder onto his cock with every thrust. The angle hit something devastating inside me, and I was climbing again, fast.
"That's it," he rasped. "Take what you need. Use me."
I shattered a second time, clenching around him so hard he cursed and slammed up into me, once, twice — then pulsed deep inside me, both of us trembling, breath ragged.
We stayed there, tangled together, heartbeats hammering.
After a long silence, he pressed his lips to my temple.
"Stay with me, Elena. Not just tonight. Stay."
I didn't answer immediately. My body was still humming. My mind was trying to catch up.
"Kade. This is fast."
"I've waited six years. That's not fast."
I climbed off him and pulled the shirt back on, needing space to think.
"I just got publicly divorced yesterday. I need — I need to not jump from one man to another."
Kade tucked himself back in and watched me, expression unreadable.
"I'm not asking you to marry me tomorrow. I'm asking you to stay in this apartment. Sleep in the guest room if you want. But stay where I know you're safe."
I studied his face. Looked for the angle.
"Why do I feel like there's something you're not telling me?"
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
"Because there is. But it's not the right time."
He kissed me like he'd been holding it in for six years and had run out of patience. His hand tightened on the back of my neck, angling my head so he could go deeper, his tongue stroking mine until I was gasping against him.
My body — starved of touch for longer than I wanted to admit — ignited instantly. My nipples peaked hard beneath the thin t-shirt, and between my thighs I was already slick, aching with a need that embarrassed me.
Kade pulled back just enough to look at me. His pupils were blown wide.
"Tell me to stop," he said, voice raw. "If you want me to stop."
I didn't want him to stop.
I reached down and pressed my palm against the front of his joggers. The shape of him — thick, rock-hard, straining against the fabric — made my core clench.
"Don't stop," I breathed.
Something snapped in his expression. He gripped my waist and pulled me into his lap so I was straddling him. His cock pressed directly against my center through the thin layers between us, and I ground down involuntarily, already desperate.
"Six years," he growled against my throat, hands sliding under my shirt, pushing it up. "I've thought about this for six fucking years."
His palms found my breasts — cupped them, squeezed. His thumbs circled my nipples, rolling and pinching until I whimpered and rocked my hips harder against him.
"Kade—"
He yanked the shirt over my head and looked at me — exposed, panting in his lap — with an expression like hunger and reverence combined.
"You're perfect." He ducked his head and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, his tongue flicking the stiff peak. My head fell back, my fingers raking through his hair.
His hand slid down my stomach, into the waistband of the sweatpants, beneath my underwear. When his fingers found me — soaked, swollen — he groaned against my breast.
"Jesus, Elena. You're dripping."
Two fingers stroked along my slit, parting me, gathering the wetness before circling my clit in slow, maddening passes. I bucked into his hand, shameless.
"More," I gasped. "Please—"
He pushed two fingers inside me, curling them against that spot, and I cried out. His thumb found my clit, pressing and rubbing in tight circles while his fingers thrust in and out, the wet sound obscene in the quiet room.
"You sound so good," he murmured, biting my earlobe. "Come for me, Elena."
My orgasm hit like a wave — sudden, blinding, my inner walls clenching around his fingers as I shook apart in his lap.
Before the aftershocks had faded, he lifted me, shoved the joggers down, and I saw him properly for the first time.
He was thick, long, the swollen head already leaking. My mouth went dry.
He positioned me over him, the tip pressing against my entrance, and looked me dead in the eyes.
"You want this?"
I sank down onto him in answer. The stretch was almost too much — he was bigger than I'd ever taken — and I gasped, digging my nails into his shoulders.
"Fuck," he gritted out, hands bruising on my hips. "Fuck, you're tight."
I rolled my hips, taking him deeper, and his head fell back against the couch, throat bared, tendons taut. I rode him — slow at first, then faster, chasing the building pressure.
His hands gripped my ass, guiding my pace, pulling me down harder onto his cock with every thrust. The angle hit something devastating inside me, and I was climbing again, fast.
"That's it," he rasped. "Take what you need. Use me."
I shattered a second time, clenching around him so hard he cursed and slammed up into me, once, twice — then pulsed deep inside me, both of us trembling, breath ragged.
We stayed there, tangled together, heartbeats hammering.
After a long silence, he pressed his lips to my temple.
"Stay with me, Elena. Not just tonight. Stay."
I didn't answer immediately. My body was still humming. My mind was trying to catch up.
"Kade. This is fast."
"I've waited six years. That's not fast."
I climbed off him and pulled the shirt back on, needing space to think.
"I just got publicly divorced yesterday. I need — I need to not jump from one man to another."
Kade tucked himself back in and watched me, expression unreadable.
"I'm not asking you to marry me tomorrow. I'm asking you to stay in this apartment. Sleep in the guest room if you want. But stay where I know you're safe."
I studied his face. Looked for the angle.
"Why do I feel like there's something you're not telling me?"
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
"Because there is. But it's not the right time."