Page 113 of Suite 7

He doesn’t stop.

He finds the angle that makes my vision blur and stays there, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm. The pressure of him and the plug together so complete my mind keeps trying to close around it and failing.

“Kane—”

“I know.” Rough already. “I’ve got you.”

He deepens the rhythm and I moan.

“You’re perfect.” The word lands against the back of my neck with his breath. His lips follow it, pressing once into my skin. “You feel perfect. Every time I’ve thought about this—“ His rhythm deepens and I gasp, fingers scrambling for the edge of the bench. “Nothing came close.”

He drives deeper.

I cry out his name. Loud and unguarded, torn out of me like it’s been waiting months to be said exactly like that.

His hips snap forward.

“Good. Again. Say my name again.”

“Kane—”

He drives harder and I lose the word halfway through it.

“Again.”

“Kane—” Higher, broken.

His grip tightens to the edge of bruising, his rhythm urgent now, precision gone entirely.

“Good girl. Don’t stop.”

“Kane—” I can’t stop even if I wanted to, his name the only thing left in my mouth, torn out with every thrust — higher, more desperate — and he groans, deep and unguarded, his forehead dropping to my shoulder.

“Vera—” Just my name. Wrecked. I feel it everywhere.

“Kane—” He answers it immediately — pulling me back, driving deeper —

The orgasm hits without warning, my whole body seizing, a sound tearing out of me as he groans and drives home one final time, coming apart with me.

When it all subsides, neither of us moves.

His forehead stays pressed to my shoulder, his breathing ragged and warm, his hands still gripping my hips like he hasn’t quite remembered to let go yet.

“Holy fuck,” I manage.

He presses his lips to the back of my neck.

“Yeah,” he says finally. “That was⁠—”

He doesn’t finish.

He doesn’t need to.

He tends to me, removing the plug, releasing the restraints, pausing to check at each stage, with the same attention he brings to everything. When my legs give out the moment I’m free he’s already there.

He lifts me and carries me to the aftercare couch. Wraps me in the blanket, and pulls me against his chest with one hand in my hair and one resting over my heart.

“I’ve got you.”