Without knowing if her minute had expired—and no longer giving a damn—Beck waded toward the hot tub steps, climbing out of the water while Kenna continued to buck and moan, nails digging into his shoulders. Jesus, he loved the pain. It proved she was real and not a trick of his imagination.

His attention snagged on a mirrored wall, stretching along one end of the physical therapy area. The sight of Kenna clinging to him, her back and ass rolling sensually, nearly brought him to his knees. Closer. He had to get closer. See the perfection of her up close while experiencing the heaven of her wet heat taking him shallow and deep. Shallow and deep. Teeth gritted, Beck crossed the room at a brisk stride, stopping in front of the mirror. “Damn. Damn, Kenna. Look at you.” He gripped her right ass cheek—watched the reflection of his hand squeezing the flesh below her sexy barbed wire tattoo—until she cried out. “If I’d known you existed, coming in my own hand would have been fucking impossible. All those years…” He threw his head back on a groan. “Nothing would have compared. I would have been miserable without your pussy.”

She started to put on a show then. Watching his face as she treated him to a hot bump and grind, her body glistening in the muted light. “The way you squeeze my ass. It’s like you’re trying to prevent yourself from doing more with that hand.”

There was a heady truth behind her words. A desire he struggled to acknowledge because he’d pushed it so deep, ignored it for so long. He took her mouth in a furious kiss, pulling away only when air was required. But even that delicious distraction couldn’t tear his mind away from the invitation in her voice. “What do you mean by something more?”

Her eyes were bright, her voice seductive. “You want to spank me, Beck?”

Chapter Ten

The breath fled Kenna’s lungs as Beck lifted her off his stiff arousal and whirled her around. He hadn’t responded to her question, but his expression had been answer enough. Just when she thought all of Beck’s layers had been peeled back, another was revealed and she loved it. Loved being the one to liberate his repressed sexual nature. A nature that was turning out to be insatiable and filthy. To her, sex had always been enjoyable, but tended to feel choreographed. Nothing about sex with Beck felt planned—it was down and dirty, honest-to-God slaking of lust. Nothing felt off limits. And for someone like Kenna, who didn’t open up easily, it was freeing. Like she’d taken flight for the first time.

She faced away from Beck now, her stomach pressed against the edge of a leather therapy table, made slippery from her dripping body. His restraint was obvious as he breathed heavily into her hair, hands flexing at her hips. “I don’t lay hands on women,” he said, voice like gravel.

Exulting in the privilege of being the one to correct his misconception, give him the extra push, Kenna flattened her palms on the table, bent forward and tilted her hips. As if he had no control over his actions, Beck dragged his hard cock up and down the valley of her bottom, making her moan. “This is for my pleasure, Beck.” She tossed her hair, meeting his tortured gaze over her shoulder. “Don’t you want to give me pleasure?”

“Yes. Constantly.”

“Then take yours and watch me find mine, too.”

She leaned down and pressed her cheek to the cool leather, her face turned so she could watch him in the mirror. His barrel chest shuddered once, twice, his right hand lifting and flexing in the air. Finally, as if the final barrier had crumbled, his huge hand landed on her backside with a satisfying slap. “Oh, God,” she breathed, the flesh between her legs tightening like a fist. Beck’s erection bulged against her backside, telling her without words how affected he’d been. Her vision cleared and she saw him in the mirror, watching her with a mixture of concern and arousal. Sweat had broken out on his forehead, the muscles in his arms straining beneath his skin. Fuck hot. “That made me feel so good, Beck.” She licked the saltiness from her lips. “Did you like it?”

“Too much.” His voice had dropped to such a deep pitch, it set off a dark, dangerous throb beneath her belly button. “I’m not sure about the things it made me feel…the things I want to do.”

Kenna started to remind him nothing they did was wrong, but his hand colliding with her still-damp backside had her gasping instead.

“I know what you’re going to say. That nothing between us is wrong,” he grated, smacking her buttocks with increased force. “What if I want it to feel a little wrong, darlin’. What then?”

Turned on to a level she’d never encountered, it became difficult to get air into her lungs. Was that her making the table shake? “It’ll only be wrong if you stop.”

In the space of two seconds, he’d fisted his erection, guided the thick head to her entrance and plunged every merciless inch inside her, roaring as he went. Kenna screamed into the table’s leather surface but was cut off when he started to drive himself home, again and again. The buildup had been so great, the anticipation so intense, an orgasm stripped her from the inside out. It seemed never ending, bolstered by Beck filling her to capacity with each thrust. The table rocked beneath her, its wooden legs scraping on the ground, but Beck grabbed it by the sides and held it still, kept it from moving forward. Pinned. She was pinned at the hips by his swollen arousal and the knowledge was indescribable.

Kenna thought the force of Beck entering her couldn’t get any greater, but she was wrong. He used his white-knuckled grip on the table to jerk her—and the table—back, to meet his drives. Scrape, scrape, scrape. She became part of the heavy piece of furniture, bent over its edge, existing to service him. Behind her, Beck growled, the sound mingling with the scrape of wood on tile. “You need this, don’t you, Kenna? Need my cock to be the only one that gets you from now on?” He moved faster. Faster. “That’s what I need.”

Her muffled reply got lost in the sound of wet flesh connecting. She had no idea what her response had been, anyway. Didn’t care. Could only concentrate on the pleasure teasing her loins, getting ready to go off like a camera flash. Almost there. Almost there.

Abruptly, Beck ceased his tireless drives, removing one hand from the table to reach between her legs. “You need me to touch you here, don’t you? I’m a fast learner, Kenna.” The callused pads of his fingers dragged over her clit, then circled, his hips delivering deliberate, slow thrusts. “I watched every move you made our first night. I know you like when I use my size against you. When I bounce you up and down like a little doll.” His fingers moved faster, rougher. “And now I know a good slap on your perked-up ass gets you the wettest of all, don’t I?”

To emphasize his point, he pulled out until only the tip of his arousal remained inside her, then slammed back inside, demanding an answer. “Yes!”

“I know everything you need. Everything.” His chest aligned with her back, pressing her down into the leather table, his stubble rasping over her ear. “I’m your daddy now, Kenna.”

The force of her climax ripped a scream from her lips, the sound bouncing off the tile floor and echoing throughout the room. Her fingernails clawed at the leather, struggling to gain purchase, even though she never would again. She was given no time to process Beck’s words or their impact on her before he gripped the table’s sides once more and heaved her backward onto his waiting erection. Once, twice, three times, before shoving to the deepest recesses of her womanhood and loosing a primitive shout. One that made her feel claimed—owned—as he came. Beck’s body was wracked with tremors that vibrated through her when his huge frame collapsed onto her back.