Page 94 of 1 Last Shot

I lose count of how many times he spanks me. By the time I feel my body tightening with my release, my skin feels like it's on fire. With his thrusts lighting me up from the inside, and his hand drawing my skin with flames on the outside, I don't have a hope of not losing myself entirely when the orgasm takes me over.

I don't even feel Kane come, that's how lost I am in the whirlwind of pleasure. But eventually, when my breathing slows and I can manage a few words, I realize that Kane has already pulled out of me and disposed of the condom. I must have collapsed, because I start to push back onto my knees again.

Except, I hear a click behind me. It sounds like a camera going off. I turn to see what could have possibly distracted Kane so soon after sex, and find him staring down at my ass, his phone in hand.

Silently, he turns to show me the picture he just took. It's of the mark he left under my pinkened ass cheek, the black marker smudged and slightly faded, but still entirely legible. And when I read the word he marked me with, my body instantly lights with another type of fire.

Mine.

29

ISABELLA

By the time I get home from the dance studio, my giddiness has increased tenfold. With nothing to distract me, the only thing I can think about anymore is my date with Kane tonight.

Date. That’s not a word I thought I would ever use in regards to Kane. Even a casual physical thing was too much to hope for in the beginning, but a date out to a nice restaurant—even once this thing between us really got going—wasn’t really in the realm of possibility. So having him be the one to suggest it last night was… unanticipated.

But so,soexciting.

I can’t stop smiling as I get ready. I pick a short and simple dark green dress to go with my black heels, but I take extra time taming my wavy hair into the perfect pattern. I’m so used to wearing it in the ballerina bun that I’m always surprised by how long it is when I let it down.

Not to mention, when I leave it up, it typically results in Kane grabbing onto it.

My hair brush slows as thoughts of sex with Kane start to rush back. Aslast nightstarts to rush back. Of what we talked about, and then what happened after it.

Of Kaneclaimingme.

A shiver runs through me at the memory. There have been so many questions in my mind lately about how Kane feels about me, but I haven’t been able to work up the nerve to actually ask him about it. Leave it to him to answer that question so definitively without ever using any words.

An unwitting smile splits my face when I hear a knock on my front door. I grab my clutch as I leave my room and rush to the front door.

I suck in a startled breath when I open it.

I don’t know if I’ll ever get over thinking Kane is the hottest guy I’ve ever seen, but there’s zero chance of that happening today.

I’ve seen him shirtless and sweaty, I’ve seen him padded up with jeans and a leather jacket, and I’ve seen him comfortable in joggers at home. But I’ve never seen him dressed up andtryingto look good.

He takes up my whole doorway, of course, because that’s how overwhelming his stature and presence always is. And he’s still wearing jeans, because I don’t think even a nice restaurant could get Kane into some slacks. But paired with those dark-washed jeans is a simple black button-up, his sleeves rolled up to his elbow and showing off not just the tattoos on his forearms and hands, but also a beautiful silver watch on his wrist. His short, wavy hair looks more tamed than it usually does, and the top two buttons on his shirt are undone, letting his throat tattoo peek out over the collar.

I don’t realize I’m staring until I hear a chuckle and feel Kane lightly chuck me under the chin.

“You’re staring, princess.”

“God, you’re hot,” I blurt out before I can bite my tongue.

His expression was already amused from my staring, but my words light his face with something else. Bashfulness? Or is it just heat from my brazen compliment?

“You look pretty good yourself,” he says, his gaze openly dropping over my body. The track of it is slow, and they linger on my legs. He doesn’t even seem to notice when he growls, “Damn, baby.”

Instantly, his eyes go black with lust. Then he’s stepping into my apartment and sinking a hand into my hair so he can tip my head back and devour my mouth.

It’s all I can do to whimper and wrap my arms around his waist in an effort to hold myself up, my knees immediately going weak from the force of his kiss.

“I’m going to do the polite thing right now and give you a heads up that I’m going to steal your panties during dinner tonight,” he growls against my mouth. “Because afterwards, I want you to sit on the back of my motorcycle knowing that the entire ride home, I’m going to be thinking about that bare pussy leaking onto the seat behind me—and fantasizing about how quickly I’ll be able to lick it up as soon as we’re home.”

I can’t stop the shudder that runs through me at his erotic words. Then it’s me that’s stamping a kiss to his lips, sliding my tongue in his mouth and silently begging him to own me with his kiss again.

He’s the one who pulls back, though he looks like he’s mentally trying to remind himself why he wanted to go out tonight in the first place. But eventually he straightens to put some space between us.

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