For a moment, the world narrowed to the tension between us, the air crackling with unspoken threats and forbidden cravings. Then his hand shot out, gripping the nape of my neck with bruising force, and dragged me into a kiss that was more war than seduction. His tongue plundered my mouth, tasting of sin, while his other hand slid down my back, grabbing my ass through the thin fabric of my dress. I moaned into him, my fingers fisting in his hair, pulling hard enough to make him growl against my lips.
“Upstairs,” he rasped, breaking the kiss just long enough to drag me toward a shadowed staircase at the back of the club. I didn’t resist. My body was already a live wire, every nerve buzzing with the promise of what he’d do to me. We stumbled into a private room, the door slamming shut behind us with a reverberating thud. The space was a den of debauchery—black velvet walls, a king-sized bed draped in crimson sheets, and a metal rack on the wall gleaming with an array of toys and restraints: leather cuffs, a flogger, a thick dildo, nipple clamps, and a coil of silken rope.
Kane didn’t waste time. He shoved me against the wall, his hands rough as they hiked my dress up to my waist, exposing the lace thong already soaked with my arousal. “Fuck, you’re dripping for me,” he muttered, his fingers brushing over the damp fabric before ripping it away with a savage tug. The cool air hit my bare pussy, making me gasp, but he didn’t give me a chance to recover. His fingers plunged into my cunt, two at once, stretching me with a brutal rhythm that had my knees buckling. The wet sound of my arousal filled the room, obscene and intoxicating, as his thumb circled my clit with punishing precision.
“Oh God, Kane,” I whimpered, my head falling back against the wall as sparks of pleasure-pain shot through me. My hips bucked against his hand, greedy for more, but he pulled back just as the edge loomed, leaving me panting and desperate.
“Not yet,” he said, his voice a dark promise. He reached for the rack, pulling down the leather cuffs and a blindfold. My heart raced as he bound my wrists above my head, securing them to a hook in the wall, and slipped the blindfold over my eyes. The loss of sight heightened every other sense—the musky scent of his arousal, the harsh rasp of his breath, the rustle of his clothes as he moved. Then I felt the cool bite of metal—nipple clamps snapping onto my tits through the thin fabric of my dress, sending a jolt of agony-ecstasy straight to my core. I cried out, my body arching toward him, needing more, needing everything.
“You like that, don’t you?” he taunted, his lips brushing my ear as his hand slid down my body, teasing the edge of my pussy. “You’re a fucking slut for the pain, Brooke. Beg for it.”
“Please,” I gasped, the word spilling out unbidden as shame and desire warred within me. “Please, Kane, fuck me. Hurt me. I need it.”