Kane gave her harder.
The careful rhythm broke.
He drove into her with powerful strokes that forced the air from her lungs in broken sounds.
"Uhh..."
The brace limited how he could brace his weight; he compensated with depth, angling each thrust so the head of his cock dragged against the place that made her thighs jump.
Misha’s fingers dug into his good shoulder.
Her white hair stuck to her damp cheeks.
The controlled woman who recited prayer lines was gone; only the body under him remained, open and demanding.
"Deeper," she got out between breaths.
"You’re still holding back. I can feel it."
"Your heart—"
"Healed. You asked. I answered."
Misha hooked one leg higher around his waist and pulled.
"Stop managing me in bed, Kane. I do enough of that outside it. Move."
He moved.
Kane slid his good arm under her back, hauled her up against his chest, and lifted.
Misha made a startled sound as her weight left the mattress.
"This is..."
He kept her impaled on his cock while he shifted, then drove up into her from below in a series of rough, upward thrusts that made her head fall back.
The new angle let him bury himself to the root on every stroke.
Her cunt clenched around him in tight, greedy pulls that had nothing to do with weakness and everything to do with how long she had been waiting.
"Like that—" Her voice cracked.
"Don’t you dare put me down."
"Wasn’t planning to."
He fucked her in his arms, good hand splayed across her ass to hold her open, braced forearm locked around her back.
Every upward thrust punched a raw sound out of her.
Her breasts pressed against his chest, nipples dragging over his skin.
The wet slap of their bodies filled the chamber.
Misha clung to him, mouth open against the side of his neck, biting down when the angle hit particularly deep.
"Kane— I’m—"
"I know. Take it."
The first orgasm of this stretch hit her hard.
Her clit locked around him in strong, milking waves.
A shaking cry tore from her throat as she came, white hair swinging, body going tight and then shuddering in his grip.
He fucked her through it, grinding deep at the peak of every thrust so the climax stretched out instead of breaking clean.
Misha’s nails raked his good shoulder. Her breath came in ragged, wet pulls against his throat.
"One," he said against her ear, still moving.
"You wanted harder. You’re getting it."
"Shut up and—"
He cut her off with another deep upward thrust.
Misha’s protest dissolved into a moan.
Kane turned, carried her the two steps to the nearest wall, and pinned her back against the cool stone without pulling out.
The new surface let him drive into her with the full force of his hips.
Misha’s legs locked around his waist.
Her head thudded lightly against the wall on a particularly hard stroke; she only pulled him closer.
"Your pussy’s grabbing me like it’s trying to keep me here through the crossing," Kane growled against her mouth.
"After all the schedules and the corridor silence—this is what you needed?"
"Yes." The word was stripped of every ledger cadence.
"Yes. Don’t stop. If you stop I’ll put you on inventory duty until the sky breaks."
He laughed once, rough, and fucked her harder against the wall.
The second climax built faster than the first, overstimulated nerves and the relentless depth combining until Misha’s whole body went rigid in his arms.
"Eh...hah..."
She came with a broken, open-mouthed cry, cunt pulsing around him so tightly it dragged a curse out of his own throat.
Juices slicked his cock and the insides of her thighs.
Kane held her through the shaking, still thrusting in short, deep grinds that kept the pleasure from cresting and vanishing.
"Two."
Misha’s forehead dropped against his.
Her golden eyes were blown dark, unfocused.
"You’re... counting."
"Someone in this room has to keep track. You’re not exactly running the schedule right now."
"I hate... you."
"You love my cock. Close enough."
He carried her back to the bed before her legs could give out entirely.
This time he put her on her hands and knees, good hand between her shoulder blades, and pushed back into her from behind in one smooth stroke.
Misha’s arms nearly folded.
Kane gripped her hip, set a punishing pace, and reached around with his braced side carefully positioned so his fingers could find her clit.
He rubbed firm circles in time with his thrusts.
Misha’s voice broke into a continuous stream of sound: his name, curses, demands for more that she was already receiving.
"Kane— Kane, I can’t—"
"You can. One more. You waited through Thora’s night and every report from Berakamon. You get three before I even think about finishing."
"That’s not how— ah— that’s not how recovery windows work—"
"It is today."
He leaned over her, chest to her back, and fucked her with short, vicious strokes while his fingers worked her clit without mercy.
Misha’s arms gave out.
Her chest hit the sheets.
Kane followed her down, still buried deep, still moving, the angle forcing him against the front wall of her cunt on every thrust.
The third orgasm tore through her like a breaking line.
"Ahhh..."
She screamed into the mattress, body convulsing under him, cunt clamping down in rhythmic spasms that nearly pulled him over the edge with her.
Kane gritted his teeth and held on, grinding through the worst of it until Misha was left trembling and oversensitive beneath him, white hair a wreck across the pillows, pale skin flushed dark across her back and shoulders.
Only then did he let himself go.
A final series of deep thrusts buried him to the hilt as he came, flooding her with thick pulses while her cunt still fluttered around him in aftershocks.
He stayed locked against her until the last of it finished, breath harsh against the nape of her neck, good arm braced to keep his full weight off her.
For a long moment the only sound in the chamber was their breathing and the distant noise of the household beyond the door.
Misha turned her head on the pillow. Her voice came out wrecked and almost amused.
"Three."
"Three," Kane agreed.