LONDON AND I HAVE ALTERNATED hosting Thanksgiving for the last four years, and this year it’s my turn. The house smells amazing. I made my mother’s sweet potato pie, my grandmother’s stuffing, and cooked a turkey big enough to feed twelve.
“Kayne!” I yell into the living room. “Can you come in here and help me with this monstrosity of a bird you made me buy!” Yes, the turkey was all him. He wanted leftovers . . . for a month. I swear the man eats like a racehorse. I always joke that I need a part-time job just to pay the grocery bill.
“Coming!” He walks into the kitchen holding Layla under his arm like a football.
“Now how are you supposed to help me when your arms are full?” I joke, tapping Layla’s little nose. She giggles.
“Only one arm is full.” He squeezes her and she squeaks. “I still have this one.” He grabs one of the oven mitts off the counter. “If I can bench press you with one hand, I can pull a thirty-pound turkey out the oven.”
I don’t have a second to respond before London swoops in and slips Layla out from under Kayne’s arm. “I’ll take her. We’ll just stand over here and watch.” She steps back behind the island.
“Fair enough.” Kayne grabs the other oven mitt and pulls the turkey from the oven. It looks so perfect I almost squeal. I don’t know when I became so domestic, but seeing that beautiful brown bird come out of the oven gives me chills.
Kayne carves it and I place it on the set table. Not two seconds after he sits down, Layla is off her chair and climbing onto his lap. London scolds her but she insists, refusing to eat unless she stays put.
“It’s fine,” Kayne smoothes his hand over Layla’s blonde hair. “She can eat wherever she wants.”
Sucker.
“You spoil her,” London scolds him now.
Kayne just shrugs. “My house, my rules.”
I just shake my head, laughing internally. How many times have I heard that?
Everyone begins to make their plates while talking and passing and sampling. This is Becks’ first Thanksgiving, so we all get to experience his first taste of turkey. He doesn’t seem like a fan; he just keeps throwing it on the floor.
Just as we all begin to eat, Jett raises his wine glass. “A toast.”
With the fork a few inches from his mouth, Kayne groans. “Really? Every time?”
I nudge him with my foot under the table, reminding him of his manners. Sometimes he forgets. As much as he looks like a well-groomed adult, he can sometimes act like a surly teenager.
“Go ahead,” I encourage Jett.
“I’ll make this short and sweet.” He glares at Kayne. If there weren’t children at the table, I know what Kayne’s choice response to that look would be. “I just wanted to thank Ellie for this wonderful meal and say I am grateful for all the past holidays we have spent at this table and am looking forward to many more. Cheers.”
“Cheers,” the rest of us respond.
“See? Short.”
“And very sweet,” I add.
Kayne snorts. “Wonderful. Can we eat now?”
“By all means, savage.” Jett facetiously grants permission.
Kayne scoops an oversized forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth then smiles condescendingly at Jett. Boys.
The rest of dinner sails by with an abundance of laughter and energy. Both children, the stars of the show. Layla sings and plays with her food on Kayne’s lap while Becks keeps London busy with smeared mashed potatoes and squished turkey.
“You know what you’re eating?” Kayne asks Layla as she pops her peas into her mouth, one by one.
“A pea!” she enthusiastically answers, holding up the little green ball.
“Nuh-uh.”
“Uh-huh!” She’s adamant.
“Lizard poop,” he tells her.
“Ewww!”
“Kayne!” Jett admonishes. “Do you have any idea how long it took us to get her to eat peas? They’re the only vegetable she’ll eat!”
“Not anymore.” Kayne laughs as Layla pushes her peas around on her plate like they’re contaminated with something.
“Are they really lizard poop, Daddy?”
“No, honey. They come out of the pod, remember? Mommy and I showed you. Uncle Kayne is just teasing.”
“Oh, yeah! I remember!” Her turquoise eyes shine brightly.
I won’t lie and say my heart doesn’t melt seeing Kayne with Layla, watching her happily feed him lizard poop and him happily eating it.
London’s words haven’t stopped ringing in my ears all night. That man needs a child.
Deep down—very far down—I know that she’s right. I know he wants one desperately. I also know my reservations and fears shouldn’t stop us from having a family, but they are.
After dessert is served, the table is cleared, and the children have fallen asleep, London and Jett call it a night. Layla passed out in Kayne’s arms while he and Jett watched football on the couch.
I’ve already started on the dishes when Kayne comes back inside from walking London and Jett out. He wraps his arms around my waist and hugs me affectionately with his chin resting on my shoulder. We stand like that for several minutes as I continually rinse each plate.
“It’s quiet now,” he states.
“What’s quiet?” I ask.
“The house. It’s quiet now with everyone gone.”
I stop and listen. It definitely is.
“Maybe it’s time we fill it up,” I say delicately, drying my hands with a dishtowel. I feel Kayne’s arms tighten before he spins me around.
“Fill it up?”
“Yeah,” I answer coyly. “Maybe it’s time we start a family of our own.” It’s an impulsive decision because that’s how I do things, but it feels like the right one.
My heart beats erratically as Kayne just stands there and stares at me. I think I just shocked him. Actually, I know I did.
“Are you being serious?”
“Yes,” I answer pointedly. “And a lot of things are going to have to change around here if we have a baby. Our lifestyle, namely.”
Kayne grins deviously. “We can cross that bridge when we come to it. Jett and London make it work. We can, too.”
They definitely do. If I have learned anything from the two of them, it’s that you don’t stop being who you are just because you start a family. If anything, you hold on tighter to the person you were, somehow incorporating your old life with your new one.
“How soon can you stop your birth control?” Kayne asks excitedly.
“I’m supposed to go for a shot next month. I can skip it.”
“A month, huh?” I can see the wheels turning. “That gives us time to practice.”
“Practice for what?”
“Making babies.” He grabs my neck and crushes his mouth against mine. The kiss consumes me, stealing my essence right out of me. We kiss and kiss, our tongues tangling as our hands roam all over each other.
“I say we start practicing right now.” He grazes his teeth along my neck then bites my earlobe.
“No time like the present.” I moan as he caresses me between my legs, over the fabric of my jeans.
“Let’s go.” He hauls me off the ground, encouraging me to lock my legs around his waist. I grind on his cock the whole way to our room, expecting him to toss me on the bed, but he apparently has other ideas as he walks us into our playroom.
“Take your clothes off,” he orders as he drops me in front of the swing. My arousal skyrockets. His dominance will always be my undoing. Kayne watches as I pull each piece of clothing off. My white gauzy shirt, my Capri jeans, and boy short underwear. The ones made entirely of hot pink lace. Almost immediately, I’m completely naked while he is still fully dressed.
He sighs appreciatively as he gropes my breasts, teases my nipples, and consumes my mouth, stretching it wide as he forcefully circles his tongue. I can’t help but whimper, knowing full well the assault he’s about to launch on my body.
He lifts me into the harness, two thick nylon straps supporting me, one under my butt the other behind my back. On each of the four straps hanging from the ceiling are wrist and ankle cuffs, which Kayne wastes no time buckling me into. Once tethered, he stalks around me, the spider inspecting his spun-up prey. I see the lust illuminating in his eyes as he runs one finger along the inside of my outstretched thighs.
I have no idea what he’s planning; the only thing I can be sure of is that this isn’t going to be a straight-up fuck. He wants to play. And I’m the toy.
“Comfortable?” He strums my clit.
“I’d be more comfortable with you inside me,” I tell him point blank. I want him to fuck me and fuck me right now. Those soft, light caresses are eliciting a slow burn from the inside out.
“Soon enough.” He walks away, out of sight. Kayne purposely keeps our treasure chest in a corner of the room I can’t see. He likes to surprise me. He likes to be in complete control. And I don’t just mean control of my body. He likes to mess with my mind and trifle with my desire. While I hang here helpless, the room suddenly goes black as Kayne ties a silk blindfold around my head. After he tightens it, he murmurs in my ear, “Beautifully bound, exactly how I like you.” I feel him tickle the diamond heart hanging on my choker. One of his many symbols of ownership over me. Maybe the most significant.
I then feel him nudge something against my entrance. It’s hard and thick and penetrates me fully. With a click, the vibrator hums to life, waking up every single one of my nerve endings. “Oh.” I shudder with need, but the soft buzz only teases me. There’s not nearly enough vibration to bring me close to the edge.
“Hang around, kitten. I’ll be back.” There’s amusement and excitement in Kayne’s voice as I catch the sound of strange clicks in the darkness.
Strapped in the swing, I have no choice but to do as he says while my arousal slowly stifles me like smoke. The light buzz kindling my excitement while suppressing it all at the same time. I fuss helplessly, knowing Kayne will only return when he’s ready. I try to concentrate on the shower running when I begin to smell a spicy blend of cinnamon, vanilla, and nutmeg in the room. I don’t know how long I’m alone, but the wait is excruciating as my need curls around my limbs and weighs me down.
“Miss me, kitten?” Kayne says suddenly.
“Yes,” I answer, wanting.
“Yes, what?” He snaps something against my nipple and I flinch.
“Yes, Kayne.” I grit my teeth.
“Good girl. Just because we are preparing for things to change doesn’t mean they have yet.” He flicks my nipple again with what I think is the towel, and it bites me harder this time. “Yes, Kayne!” My voice pitches from the pain.
“Mmm . . . those word from your lips.” I feel the straps by my hands strain and the weight of my husband against me. “I’ll never get tired of hearing you say them. I’ll never get tired of hearing you beg. You will always be mine.” He nips at my bottom lip, but that’s all I get of him. “I’ll never, ever let you go.”
“I don’t ever want you to let me go,” I rasp, feeding off his energy.
“Good.” With that, I feel the first burn against my skin, a fiery line across my lower abdomen. I squeal in surprise. Wax, hot wax. That’s what the spicy smell was, a burning candle. It cools quickly, hardening on my torso. I only have a second of reprieve before I feel it again. This time the fiery trail moves upwards on my stomach, some drips are bigger than others, but they all light my body on fire the same way. I squirm when he covers one of my nipples, the little nub baking under the heat.
“Oh, god.” He does the same to the other breast, the wax dripping down my side, reaching all the way to my back. I’m caught between a constant state of kindle and flame. The vibrator tortures the inside of my body while the hot wax does a number on the outside. I drop my head back as I feel him make his way up my chest and stop just below my necklace.
“Hold still.”
I do as he says, on the brink of disarray. A shutter sound, like a camera clicking, flutters through the room. He’s documenting this.
“Perfect. You’ve been a very good girl. Are you ready for me to fuck you?”
“Yes.” I pant, my skin inflamed, my body desperate, my pussy aching and soaking wet.
“Yes, what, baby?” Kayne massages my inner thigh.
“Yes, please fuck me. Make me come.”
“Oh, I plan to.” He spreads my folds wide and pours some wax right onto my swollen, throbbing clit.
“Holy shit!” My head spins and I buck in the swing as the burn of the wax does something inexplicable, makes my arousal magnify and my adrenaline spike almost like a runner’s high.
“Shit. Please. Please, I need you,” I beg as my climax teeters on a sharpened point.
“Say it again.” Kayne rips the vibrator out of my pussy.
“I need you! I need you!” I chant.
“Again!” He slams into me, quelling the ache, feeding the flame.
“I need you!” I shout as our hips clash together over and over, until my muscles tighten and milk his erection for everything it’s worth.
“Oh fuck, baby, come,” he growls as I soak us both, my climax making a mess on his cock and my inner thighs.
“Fuck!” he hisses as he plows into my pussy, steady and hard, like he’s cleaving through a turbulent sea. He doesn’t stop thrusting until he’s buried so deep, it feels like our orgasms become one.
“Kitten,” he rumbles disoriented as he pumps in and out, emptying himself inside me.
Left slack in the swing, Kayne grabs my face and kisses me lethargically until we both come back around.
“How do you feel?” he asks between flicks of his tongue.
“Exceedingly used,” I reply honestly, still unable to see him.
Kayne chuckles. “Exactly how you should feel. This is my body and I’ll use it however I see fit.”
“You never disappoint in that aspect,” I say, as he removes my blindfold.
“Did I hurt you?” He searches my eyes.
“Yes.”
Kayne frowns. “You didn’t use your safe word.”
“I didn’t want to use my safe word. You like hurting me and I like being hurt.”
It’s the ugly truth. I am the masochist to his sadist. I crave his pleasure at the same time demanding his pain. We are two misplaced pieces of a puzzle that fit perfectly together. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Kayne unstraps me from the swing and helps me to stand. My wrists are sore from straining against the restraints, my pussy is tender from the rough fuck, and my skin is prickly from the hot wax.
“Take a shower with me?” I ask Kayne as I nuzzle up against his toned, naked body.
“Do you really need to ask?” He tilts my chin up.
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted another one.”
“If it’s with you, I’d never say no. You should know that by now.”
A smile is my only reply. In the bathroom, I inspect his masterpiece in the brighter light. The playroom was dim. I look closely at the way the wax runs along my body, the pattern almost looks like letters. Wait. It is letters. K-A-Y-N-E
“Are you serious?” I turn to him.
“What?” He grins, proudly.
“You wrote your name on my body in hot wax?”
He shrugs nonchalantly. “You’re mine. Signed, sealed, and delivered.”
Hmm . . . where have I heard that before?
All I can do is shake my head and laugh.
Crazy man.