by Kane, Jessa
John’s hips thrust up between my thighs and we moan in unison. “I couldn’t believe you walked by right as I was getting ready to move on him. He paid extra hard for following you again, Lyssa.” His brown eyes glitter momentarily with malice. “It won’t ever happen again.”
“I know.” I bite my bottom lip. “You won’t let it.”
“You’re going to let me take care of you.”
I nod enthusiastically at his non-question while he licks a path up the side of my neck. “Didn’t someone live in this apartment before?”
“Yeah. He suddenly had to move.” John winks at me. “Pity.”
“You’re crazy,” I laugh.
“Only when something stands between you and me.”
Keeping me propped against the wall, John strokes a hand down over my right breast, lower until I hear him unzip his pants. I’m all but panting by the time his thick member bobs free and smacks against my belly. “I need you inside me,” I whine. “Please.”
“Impatient little girl. Is your pussy wet enough?”
“Yes. I’m so wet,” I moan, my thighs climbing up and down his hips. “I started getting wet when I heard your voice.”
John’s nostrils flare, his right hand positioning his shaft at my clenching entrance. “Wet enough to take it rough?”
I try to impale myself, but he’s too thick to fit inside me without force—and that’s what he gives me. Catching my mouth in a snarling kiss, John thrusts his hips crudely, the power of his entry slamming my butt against the door. “Yes,” I whimper, my thighs tremoring. “Yes.”
“You will sleep here with me,” he rasps into my ear, driving his huge sex in and out of me. Slapslapslap. “No exceptions. If you want to have your fun across the hall with your best friend, that’s fine. But you will come home to your motherfucking man. I won’t have walls separating us.”
“I don’t want that, either,” I gasp.
“Let me love you,” he grits out against my lips. “Let me spend my lifetime guarding you.”
“I’m yours to guard. Yours to love.” I work myself on his hard sex, rubbing my clit on the ruddy base. Oh God, oh God, I’m so close. Now that I know what my body needs to tempt relief, I find that golden thread so much faster and my intuitive lover senses what I require, clutching my ass in his hands and helping me grind. “I don’t ever want to be apart again.”
“Never,” he vows fervently, loosing a harsh groan into the crook of my neck. “Come for me, Lyssa. I need to fill you up. I’ve been sick without you.”
We stare into each others eyes for several heavy beats, John using his grip on my bottom to hit that spot—over and over—and I pop like a balloon, screaming into the humid space between our bodies, my breasts jiggling like crazy now with the increased force of his thrusts. Those frantic ones that signal he’s at the end. His jaw loosens, his eyes going blind and then he’s joining me, both of us elevating to a place of pure, raw pleasure. And love.
John crushes me within his embrace and trails kisses along my hairline and cheeks. “Thank God I found you.” His gaze tracks over my face with adoration. “What was my life like without you?”
“You’ll never have to find out again,” I whisper, letting his kiss pull me under.
EPILOGUE
Lyssa
Three months later
My professor signals the end of class and I gather up my notes, excitement pulsing in my fingertips. John is waiting for me out in the hallway. I can feel it. I can feel him. The connection we forged in the Catskills grows stronger every day, amazing me sometimes. We can communicate everything to each other with a single look, but the look he’s giving me when I walk out of class is indecipherable. Stoic.
The girls leaving class around me titter and gasp at the sight of John, and while it annoyed me the first time, I’ve grown used to women ogling my big, bad mountain man. John loves to point out that men stare at me, too, but I never notice them. How can I when I’m giving John heart eyes 24/7?
“Hi,” I whisper, letting him pull me onto my toes and into a kiss. “You look even more menacing among a hallway of college students.”
“Good.” He takes my books and guides me out of the lecture building. “I have to make an appearance once in a while so the boys will continue to leave you alone and I don’t have to murder anyone.”
“Practical of you.”
His lips twitch. “I thought so.”
Once his smile goes, he’s back to being stoic and I frown over the shift. “Is it time for another weekend trip to the mountain house?”
When John gets fed up living in a concrete box, we take a trip to the Catskills and I have to admit, the wide-open space is starting to appeal to me more than the city. If it weren’t for school, I would probably beg to go more often.
“Soon, sweetness,” John says, not really answering my question.
A few minutes later we’re walking through Washington Square Park, our fingers laced together. The first time I brought him here, he scowled at the pigeons, the people, the trees, muttering about the rat race. Weird how his grumpy man vibe turned me on, right? I’m even more turned on now that he’s so casually in charge and relaxed no matter where we go in the city. In a short time, he’s become the king of this place and I’m thrilled to be his queen.
True to his word, John doesn’t question the time I spend next door doing facials or bingeing Netflix with Mason. Sometimes he even joins us—and it has been incredible to watch him grow closer to his son than ever before. They even went to a Yankees game together last week, sending me selfies until my heart wanted to burst.
When I’m not bogged down in school work, I help John run his new, online walking stick shop. One rainy weekend, we built a website and organized some advertising for the operation. In no time, we were getting emails from all over the country from people excited to purchase an original creation for the wounded veteran in their life. Each month, we walk to the post box together and drop in a check for one hundred percent of the profits to a military charity and it gives me so much happiness to witness John’s pride in what we built together.
Now, I pull him to stop at an ice cream stand midway through the park. “Want one?”
He shakes his head no, but pays for my vanilla cone, then walks me over to a park bench and sits me on his right thigh, my shoulder pressed to his chest. His big hand works its way into my hair and massages my scalp, those brown eyes of his riveted on my mouth. I’m being kind of shameless, licking my ice cream cone slowly, teasingly, and I can feel the effect it’s having on John’s body. His sex pulses under my butt, thickening with every lick I take.
“Christ, Lyssa, you’re asking to be fucked in broad daylight on this bench.”
I wiggle my bottom in his lap and lean in, smiling against his mouth. “Will you settle for a kiss?”
“For now,” he growls, nipping at my bottom lip. “Later, I won’t settle for anything less than you on your back screaming.”
Heat flares between my legs, pulling at my intimate muscles. “The upstairs neighbors will call the landlord and complain again.”
“No,” he drawls. “They won’t.”
My spine straightens. “John, did you threaten the neighbors?”
He grunts. “I suggested a new place to shove their phone.”
I giggle into his shoulder. “See? You fit right in here, just like I knew you would.” I take a few licks of my ice cream, a sigh of complete contentment leaving me. “I love you so much, John,” I whisper, leaning up to nuzzle my nose against his unshaven chin. “You make me so happy.”
Affection deepens the brown of his eyes. “Thank God for that, Lyssa, because I can’t live without you.” He pulls me down for a long kiss, his tongue traveling into my mouth and coaxing mine into a dance. When we finally break for air, I’m spun in such a web of lust and love, it takes me a few seconds to notice the black velvet ring box he’s holding between us.
My jaw drops.
Before I can sputter an
answer, John stands, turns and settles me on the bench. And then he gets down on one knee in front of me. Oh wow. This is happening. He’s proposing to me while I eat ice cream—does life get any better? John is the most heroic, incredible sight I’ve ever beheld, a gorgeous treasure of a man surrounded by the city I’m slowly but surely teaching him to love.
“Lyssa,” he begins gruffly. “You’ve shaken up my life in a way I never could have expected. I’ve had this ring for three months because…I keep wondering if taking you for my wife makes me selfish. See, I’ve never been happy and now I grow happier every damn day, because of you. I’m…overflowing.” He clears his throat hard. “I finally decided to accept that I’m a lucky bastard and be selfish, though I never really had a choice to begin with because living without you is never going to be an option. I’m putting a ring on your finger, Lyssa, and I’m keeping you. Always.”
“How like you to tell me we’re getting married,” I laugh tearfully, throwing myself into his arms. “Yes. Yes, you’re going to keep me. And I’m keeping you.”
John pulls back long enough to slide a big, sparkly diamond onto my finger. Then he picks me up off the bench and spins me in a circle while passersby applaud. It’s the single greatest moment of my life and I know there are many more to come.
John
Five years later
I wait for my wife in the meadow, heart hammering in my throat.
She will forever put me in this state of need. Anticipation. Longing.
Waiting to be alone with her is the hardest part of my life, because she has made everything else so easy. Since she graduated college, we’ve spent the majority of our time in the Catskills. Having more space became especially necessary when she gave birth to our son, Graham, although we still return to our apartment in the city for weekends alone. Mason is happy to babysit across the hall, but when he’s busy, our nanny remains home with our son, as she will do tonight while I make love to Lyssa in the meadow. Our meadow, where I took her for the first time.
Our meadow, where no one can hear our wild moans.
Christ. This lust never wanes.
Most mornings, I have her mounted before our eyes are fully open, rattling the wooden joints of our four poster bed with such force, it’s a wonder the goddamn thing hasn’t collapsed. She’s a constant temptation. More so now than ever. Watching her nurture our child has amplified my protective nature and she’s never safer than when she is in my arms. So that’s where I keep her.
I tip my head back and grunt up at the moonlight, impatience turning over and over in my gut. When I left the house, she was reading our son a bedtime story and preparing to leave him with the nanny, but it must have been a long one.
I want my wife now.
I need her endlessly.
This nightly torture of waiting is the greatest pleasure/pain imaginable. Doesn’t she know how badly I ache every moment of the day? We now work together running our custom walking stick business. My role is to carve the sticks and Lyssa creates the purchase orders, does the shipping and reaches out to our many vendors. Over the last five years, we’ve managed to donate over a million dollars to wounded veterans, all because of her amazing mind.
However, working together means we’re in close quarters all day and her sexy voice taunts me when she speaks on the phone. Every time she turns to smile at me, my cock thickens in my jeans. Forget about when she bends forward to pull a file out of the cabinet, distracting me with her gorgeous ass. Most of the time I can’t stop myself from sitting her atop my desk, stepping between her thighs and pumping my frustration into her.
Just thinking about how she purrs and opens her legs invitingly has me reaching into my pants and stroking my dick. Lord, when will my obsession with my wife stop growing? I keep thinking I’ve reached the height of it and then I do something like pay an ice cream truck thousands of dollars to take daily trips to our house, just so I can watch her lick a vanilla cone. Or steal her panties right off her body in the middle of a restaurant, so I can take them to the bathroom and jerk off into them. She’s infatuated me, obsessed me, and she owns me for life.
My Lyssa.
And there she is, drifting through the moonlight in a little white nightgown, twirling through a patch of flowers, her hair in loose waves around her shoulders. I want to go to her, to meet her halfway, but her beauty renders my legs incapable of moving. Finally, though, she’s in reaching distance and I waste no time pulling her against me. Hard.
“Wife,” I rasp. “What have I told you about keeping me waiting?”
She toys with a button on my shirt. “That it makes you want to play rough?”
Damn right it does. Being kept from my mate turns me into a beast. “Since you’re half an hour late, should I assume that’s what you want?”
Her bottom lip pops out in sexy pout, her fingertips sliding down my chest to unbuckle my belt. “I want to make you crazy.”
“You’re succeeding.”
My groan carries through the meadow as Lyssa falls to her knees and takes out my cock, looking up at me while she polishes the tip with her tongue. Fuck, I can barely stand it when she goes down on me, the pleasure is so intense. Already my balls threaten release at the depravity of it all. My young wife with her innocent eyes and lily-white nightgown suckling my big, purple-headed cock. In this moonlit setting, I feel like I’m defiling a sweet, trusting fairy, but I’m too horny to be ashamed of myself. I’m always so fucking horny for her, like a fever I never want to cure.
Lyssa moans around my flesh, her lips stretching around the girth as she descends down, down, reaching just past the midway point before she chokes a little. God love her, though, she does it over and over again, deep throating me until my hips start to thrust in unconscious movements, seeking the warm suction her lips are offering.
“Good little girl. Suck me as far down as you can.” I gather her hair in my hands and guide her up and back, growling at the sight of her beautiful bobbing head. “Don’t worry. Whatever your mouth can’t take I’ll stuff into your pussy.”
Lyssa’s fingernails claw into my thighs and that’s the signal that she needs her husband’s cock. Now. Thank God, because her mouth is killing me, tempting my climax with every lick of her tongue and graze of her teeth.
Going down on my knees, I flip Lyssa around and yank her back into my lap, bucking against her smooth ass cheeks.
“Ready to play rough, wife?”
Without waiting for an answer, I enter her with a swift thrust, reveling in her gratified sob of my name. “Do we ever play any other way?” she gasps, her body already shaking against mine.
I fall forward and our mouths meet over her shoulder in a desperate kiss. “Play hard, love hard,” I grit, canting my hips back and surging forward.
“That’s us,” she whispers, capturing my eyes with her dreamy ones. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love you, John.”
“I love you, Lyssa. God, I love you so much.”
Our moans fill the meadow until the dawn breaks the sky.
And for decades and decades after that…
THE END
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WEARING HIM DOWN is out now!
When Sienna’s mother remarried and hightailed it to Paris with husband de jour, she was resigned to being raised by her housekeeper. Sienna never expected her new stepbrother, Grant Foster—the coldhearted Overlord of Wall Street—to assign her a team of bodyguards, move her into his multi-million-dollar penthouse and start calling her princess. Unfortunately, while Grant spoils her rotten, he continues to keep her at arm’s length. Sienna might be young, but her body knows what it needs. And while her stepbrother might be forbidden, she can’t help but wonder what it would take to wear him down…
Get it here:
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nbsp; Kane, Jessa, The Loner’s Lady
