Slay Bells Ring

Chapter Thirteen – Holly

Kane is kissing me. Kane is kissing me . He’s kissing me—but the most surprising part is I’m kissing him back. I don’t know why. The only thing I should do to that man is push him away and maybe give him a slap for daring to touch me like this, but…

I don’t know. Maybe it’s the fact that I might die soon, or maybe it’s the fact that I’m being forced to rely on the same man who killed my parents to save me and keep me alive, but everything feels so out of my control. I want… God, as stupid as it sounds, as wrong as it is, I want to kiss him.

It’s funny. It’s stupid. It’s wrong—it’s everything all at once. The kiss is exactly what a kiss should be, and even though it shouldn’t be easy for me, it is.

Before the kiss can progress, Kane pulls his mouth off mine and turns away, giving me his wide back. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I… I don’t know why I—” The man is making excuses, about to say he doesn’t know why he kissed me.

And you know what? I don’t want to hear it.

I crawl towards him on the creaky bed, touch his arm and then practically fall in his lap as I curl around him like a snake. Before he can say anything else, I wrap my hands around his neck and pull his mouth to mine again.

This time when our lips meet, it’s pure fire with not an ounce of hesitancy. It’s heat and passion and hunger, the things true desire is made of. His mouth is rough like the rest of him, and his stubble is long enough to scratch my chin, but I don’t care. God, I just don’t care.

His arms wrap around me tightly, his hands large enough to swallow me whole. My chest presses hard against his, and my hands fall to his shoulders. I must get too close to the tender area around where he was shot, because he winces into the kiss.

I drop my hands off him as I whisper, “I’m sorry.”

Kane leans his forehead against mine, breathing hard. “Don’t be. I can take the pain. Touch me anywhere you want.” The way he says it, murmurs it like a prayer, like he wants me to touch him anywhere and everywhere, makes my heart do something funny in my chest.

Just because he said he can take the pain doesn’t mean I want to make him hurt—a far cry from my intentions when I first came to this cabin. I’m much more careful when I go for the bottom hem of his stained shirt and help him lift it up and over his head. I toss it to the side, my attention falling immediately to the hard, sculpted chest in front of me.

It’s not the first time I’ve seen it, but it’s the first time I’ve been so close to it without having to dig anything out of him. It allows me the time—and the daylight bouncing off the snowy world outside allows me the sight—to get to know his top half in a more intimate way.

He’s got two bandages. One where he was shot, just below his right shoulder, and one where I stabbed him on his left pec. To think, if I would have stabbed him a bit harder, I might’ve succeeded.

Of course, I didn’t take into account how hard it would be to stab someone who’s built like a fucking mountain, with muscles on top of muscles.

It’s not the bandages on his chest that draw my attention, though; it’s the rest of him. The clearly-defined abs beneath his chest, how he seems to have muscles on his torso I didn’t even know existed before now. It’s the way his skin tenses as I run my fingers down his chest, how he breathes in sharply when I trace a scar dancing across the middle of his abs. It’s how he watches me with half-lidded eyes while letting me explore him.

Kane is the epitome of what a man is. I shouldn’t be so attracted to him given our past, but sitting there on his lap while letting my hands roam over his muscles while he watches me… how could I not be?

The way he watches me… it’s like he’s enjoying my exploration, like he wants me to touch him wherever I please.

It’s only once I’ve danced my hands all across his chest and abdomen that I decide to even the playing field, so to speak. Kane holds onto my lower back to keep me steady while I take off my shirt and the bra underneath.

His eyes drop to take me in, and I swear to God no one has ever looked at me with such molten desire before. Like he can’t get enough and he wants to commit every single detail to memory.

Kane’s hands roam up the back of my neck, along my bare spine, and I shiver against him, knowing full well my nipples are now hard, pointed pebbles. Suddenly those hands drop to my ass as he forces me to kneel over his lap and bring my chest closer to his face.

“Fuck,” he breathes out the word against my chest, “what are you doing to me, Holly fucking Cooper?”

I could literally ask him the same thing. It’s like all logical thought went out the cabin door and neither of us can think straight anymore.

Kane angles his head back so he can look up at me from between my tits, the blueness of his eyes the opposite of what they usually are. Instead of icy cold, they radiate warmth, like the waters of the Caribbean.

No one’s ever looked at me like that. Like they don’t just want me; they need me. Kane looks at me like I’m the air that fills his lungs and he can’t get enough. It makes me warmer than the fire at my back.

Kane’s hands tighten on my ass for only a few seconds before he wraps his arms around me and flips us. Before I know it I’m beneath him, and he’s holding himself above me—but not for long. After another moment, his mouth comes down on mine again, and he kisses me so hard he pulls a moan out of me.

It’s strange. I spent the last thirteen years of my life hating this man’s guts, and here I am acting like an eager virgin, ready to give it all away.

After he ravages my mouth, he moves to my neck, his stubble scratching my jaw as he goes. He nuzzles into me, his lips trailing kisses along my neck, over my collarbone, and to my chest, where his hands have traveled. Those hands cup my tits and massage them, his fingers running over my nipples every few seconds, causing me to squirm.

I feel… out of my mind, like I’m ready to explode. It’s like nothing else matters. Not the past, not the fact that someone wants me dead, not even the possibility that my whole life has been a lie. The only thing that matters is the way Kane’s mouth feels as it continues to travel down my body, over my stomach.

His hands leave my tits, abandoning them, and shortly after his fingers work on my pants. The button, then the zipper. It all comes off, and as he’s working, Kane throws glances at me every now and then. Maybe he’s expecting me to stop him, to tell him we shouldn’t, to miraculously come to my senses and end this now before it’s too late.

But I would argue it’s already too late.

Once my pants are undone, Kane pulls them down, along my legs, and yanks them off me—though the man is careful when he does so, so as to not hurt my bandaged feet. His wide chest lets out a haggard breath the moment he curls two fingers into the waistline of my panties, and then he pulls those down, too.

And then, just like that, I’m laying before him, completely naked.

It’s bizarre. I don’t feel self-conscious at all. With the way he looks down at me, how those blue orbs drag across every inch of my skin as he takes my bare body in, it’s like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. The only one he wants. The only person in the entire world who can sate his hunger and his desire, like it’s burning him up inside.

I’ve never, ever been on the receiving end of a look like that.

Kane slips a hand between my thighs and spreads me open, and I swear I hear a hum of need escape him as he’s greeted with the sight of what lies between my legs. He lowers himself between my legs, and he kisses his way up my left thigh before finding my apex with that mouth of his.

The sensation that shoots through me when his mouth sucks in my clit makes me moan. Startling, overwhelming, the kind of pleasure that takes you by a chokehold and refuses to let you go.

Kane feasts on me like he’s on death row and I’m his last meal, his final goodbye. He’s eager, he’s fervent, and he somehow knows exactly what to do with that tongue to push me toward the edge. It’s not long until I grow short of breath, until my heart flutters and pounds inside my chest as the pleasure within me builds.

The man can play me like a fucking fiddle. I arch my back, grinding against that mouth, and he responds by curling both hands around my outer thighs and running a circle around my aching clit with his wet, warm tongue.

The only thing I can muster up is his name, “Kane,” and it’s spoken so pleadingly I hardly sound like myself. My eyelids shut as I surrender to the impending force that’s seconds from sweeping over me.

He doesn’t let up, and my clit swells with the attention of his mouth. A low pressure builds within my core, and when it comes, I don’t fight it. I let it explode inside me.

The orgasm hits me like a wall of bricks. Hard, flinching, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I cry out as my body spasms, the pleasure surging through every inch of me, all heat and bliss. My body is instantly elevated on cloud nine. I feel weightless.

And yet, even after the orgasm, Kane doesn’t let up. He’s a man on a mission in between my thighs, and he won’t stop until he’s done what he went down there for. Silly me thought one orgasm was his goal, but he soon makes it clear that he wants me to drown in them.

Why? Oh, because before he’s done down there, I come three more times.

Yeah, a total of four orgasms from just the one mouth. It’s the kind of perseverance nobody else has. Hell, I don’t think anyone’s been between my legs that long. It’s like he really wants to commit every single detail to memory.

Not that I’m complaining, because after four orgasms? I am practically mush.

My skin is flushed, my chest heaving, by the time Kane lifts his mouth off my apex. His blue gaze flicks up at me, and he licks his lips like he just discovered his most favorite meal. The intensity coming off him makes me quiver in the best way.

He pushes off the bed, getting to his feet. I’m about to ask him what he’s doing, but then I realize he’s still wearing pants. Right. Those definitely need to come off. I bite my lower lip as I watch him take them off. Soon enough he stands there, as naked as I am, every inch of him on display.

Every hard inch—and let’s just say there’s an ample amount of inches. More than ample. He’s not only tall and muscled. The man’s cock is proportional, just as impressive as the rest of him. It’s enough inches that him not fitting inside me crosses my mind, but I push that thought away.

He’ll fit. If there’s a will, there’s a way, and right now there’s definitely a will.

Kane crawls onto the sofa bed with me, and the springs creak below us as he positions himself between my legs. He’s so damned tall, I have to crane my head to look at him and he’s got to arch his back a bit to meet my eyes—but once our stares meet, they hold. He doesn’t look away when he pushes inside me. No, the man is all about that eye contact as he fills me up.

I don’t think I’ve ever had this much intense eye contact in my freaking life, but I won’t complain. How could I, when Kane’s cock pushes into me and makes me feel so full, so whole?

The man got me wet enough to not need a single ounce of added lubrication. I’m so wet he slides in and out of me, no resistance from my core at all. His hips move slowly at first as both of us first become one, but that sluggish pace doesn’t last long.

Kane’s speed increases, and he pounds away between my legs with a fierceness that threatens to swallow me whole. The moans that come from him are some of the deepest, most manly sounds I’ve ever heard in my life. I could listen to him moan all day.

I bring my hands to his sides, holding onto him as his cock pushes into me with wild abandon. God, he feels so good it’s unreal. I never knew… not once has it ever felt like this. This blows everything in my past out of the water while putting every other man to shame simultaneously.

Kane is all fire and speed above me as he searches for his release inside me. I feel close again, too, as miraculous as it is. The thought of coming undone while he’s inside of me is one of the sexiest, most intimate things I’ve ever thought of.

I tap him on the side. Kane must know what I want, because he rolls us over, his cock never leaving my core, and suddenly I’m the one riding him. I straighten my body out and throw my head back as I moan, rocking along his length like it’s my personal toy.

Kane’s hands find my thighs, his gaze filled with such lust I’m surprised he can see me through it. He watches my body rock, observes the way my tits bounce along with my rhythm, and I swear I feel his cock twitch inside me.

He abruptly sits up, and his arms wrap around me to keep me steady as I continue to rock along his cock. His head leans down, and he presses his forehead against mine as he whispers, “My little killer.”

If I wasn’t so out of my mind with need, I might’ve demanded to know why he thought he could say something like that, but in this moment, there’s no denying that I was his.

One of his hands cups my jaw, and Kane brings his mouth to mine. He kisses me hard and fast, pulling out any leftover air in my lungs in the process. He’s slow in moving his lips off mine, and through slit eyes I know he’s watching me, waiting for me to come.

Fuck. This guy and his eye contact. It’s a little over the top, but I guess that’s what I should’ve expected. A man like him, someone who’s done what he’s done, is all about the intensity.

The pressure inside me is too much. My body’s on overload. This time, when the orgasm hits me, it shocks me into submission, and if Kane wasn’t holding onto me during it, I don’t doubt I would’ve fallen over.

I ride it out as best I can on his cock, my breathing erratic and hard. My muscles tense and my inner core clenches on his length in the process, drawing out an animalistic groan from Kane. Everything is tingly after that, and I’m once again rendered into nothing but pleasure-filled goo.

Kane holds onto me and flips us again so that I’m once more laying under him. My legs wrap around his hips as his body lurches above mine, his cock hitting me so deep I swear the man’s rearranging my guts.

It’s a miracle the sofa bed doesn’t break under us. Kane’s like an animal above, going at me so hard I see stars. Where most men would make themselves come faster doing that, Kane’s stamina seems to be unmatched. The man can go and go and go, just like the bunny in the commercials. I don’t know how long we go at it, but it must be a while.

I’m so out of it, so lost in the moment, that I’m seconds from complaining when he abruptly pulls out of me—I’m so delirious with pleasure that it doesn’t occur to me why he’s pulling out until after I hear him groan loudly and feel warm shots of his cum on my lower stomach.

Oh, right.

Kane’s voice is husky when he says, “Let me see if I can find you a towel or something.” He takes one last look at me—at me, the cum on my belly, and the wet, pink folds of skin between my thighs—before he crawls off the bed to search.

As I lay there, as my body comes down from the high, it hits me, what we just did. What I just did. I had sex with the man who killed my parents. I had sex with the man I came here to kill. I had sex with literally the one man in the world I shouldn’t.

Fuck. What’s wrong with me?

No, seriously, what’s wrong with me? Because even though it’s wrong in all the ways mentioned, it doesn’t change how good my body still feels. It doesn’t change how Kane looked at me when he was inside me, like I was everything to him.

And the way he called me my little killer …

Damn it. Things just got way more complicated.