Ken was the only one who answered that call. Assuming “save me” meant fucking her until her thighs ached and she felt completely, utterly beneath his benevolent control.
“I’m coming, Bunny,” he muttered into the crook of her neck. “Oh, fuck, I’m coming for you.”
For her. Not for himself. Not for his ego. For her?
Lana came too, not a second after the first instance of orgasm took Ken down.
Climax was long and drawn out for them both. Lana never reached the cataclysmic crest that would knock her out for hours. She didn’t want to. She wanted to experience every passing second with Ken, who cradled her in his arms and rocked his orgasm within her.
Out of all the things Lana could think about right then, realizing that she had never felt such an emotional connection during sex was not something she even considered before coming to New York. Wouldn’t she know it? Within three days of touching down at JFK she was tied up in some man’s bed, wondering if he was in love with her.
Not if she was in love with him. If he was in love with her.
That was how Lana deflected from her own issues. She couldn’t face that question coming from her heart, only the one simmering in her mind.
It was the only way she could continue to enjoy her night.
“Wow,” he said, still inside her, still on top of her. Lana’s arms tired. Her thighs ached in both desire and fatigue. While she didn’t want this to end, she knew her physical limits were going to make her do more than wish him off her. “You’re one of the most amazing women I’ve ever been with.”
She didn’t doubt him. She was, after all, queen of her own world.
“Bachman,” she whimpered.
Ken was off her much sooner than she anticipated. “I’m sorry,” he said. Was he back to his senses? That fast? “Here. I’ll untie you.”
Lana shook out her arms as soon as they were freed. Her toes wiggled when her legs stretched again. The two black ropes disappeared over the edge of Ken’s bed. She sat up, knees pressed against her chest and arms wrapped tightly around her legs. Hair fell between her and Ken. He tucked some of it behind her ear. Lana leaned her cheek into his palm.
“Did I do something wrong?”
He was disheveled yet unbearably put together. Hair as mussed as Lana anticipated. Clothes wrinkled and speckled with her wetness. Watch hanging upside down on his wrist. Cock in need of freedom from a choking condom. Face coated in concern.
“No.” Her knuckles caressed his goatee. “I was getting sore, that’s all.”
Their mutual gaze held until Lana had to push more hair out of her face. Ken kissed her hand and massaged the inside of her thigh. Not sexually, either. His fingers stayed a respectful distance from her folds.
“Why did you throw the ropes aside?” Lana could mess with him tonight too. “What makes you think I’m done with you, Mr. Andrews?”
His eyes widened in curiosity. “Give me a moment to get hard again, Ms. Losers.”
“Who told you to get hard right now? Fuck that. A woman like me likes a little challenge. I guarantee I’ll have you hard again in five minutes if you give me one of those ropes and take off the rest of your clothes.” She winked at him. “You’re not the only one around here who knows how to tie a knot and make someone feel vulnerable.”
Ken gave her the exact reaction she wanted. He plopped down onto his bed, chin propped on his hand and smirk tearing her apart inside.
Her move.
***
The hot, almost scalding water washing down Ken’s skin was exactly what he needed after a night like the one he experienced. From the moment he woke up still tangled with Lana, he craved a good shower. So he skillfully pulled away from her, careful to not disturb her fitful sleep, and stole into his master bath for a well-earned rinse.
He needed a few minutes to himself anyway. Some minutes to sort through his thoughts and feelings that Lana had yanked out of his heart and put on display right before his very eyes.
The woman was beyond anyone he had ever been with, that was for sure. Ken had never met a woman who could seamlessly go from submitting to him like that to driving him wild with a silk rope. He didn’t have to think too hard before memories of that silk against his cock and her lips gently sucking his tip reentered his mind. So much for morning wood being anything but sexual arousal.