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He doesn’t hesitate, sweeping me off my feet and into his arms, not straining the least bit as he carries me up the stairs. Moving down the dim hallway toward what I assume to be his bedroom. I’m not positive, though, because I’ve never actually been in the main house, only the guesthouse in back.
King angles us through a doorway, careful not to knock my ankles or knees against anything. He lays me gently on the bed, in the center of a pool of soft moonlight shining through the window. I remind myself to breathe, taking a full inhale instead of short, staccato puffs. The room smells like him, clean and a little bit earthy.
“You’re so damn beautiful, Jules.” He stares down at me, runs a hand up the inside of my thigh. Warmth carries straight through the denim, and pleasure ripples through me. Familiar yet different.
He’s older, stronger, tougher. Thick veins pop from his forearms, every muscle in his body toned from working the ranch.
I want this man. On me, over me, buried so deep inside me I don’t even know where I stop and he begins.
Reaching down, I undo my jeans, shimmy out of them as sexily as I can while lying on the bed. Not the easiest feat. King helps me out, his palms spreading over my thighs and pulling the pants all the way down to my ankles. I kick my shoes off, the denim hitting the ground with a soft thud. Cool air hits my bare skin, and I inhale, a quick, sharp breath. Sucking in oxygen and sheer masculinity, a force so strong I can almost see it, hear it humming around us.
Just like I remembered.
King always taking the lead. Leaving me to sit back and enjoy the ride.
He lifts his shirt over his head, then tosses the blue cotton to the ground. The sight of him shirtless still takes my breath away. Broad shoulders, tanned skin, hard planes of chiseled muscle. Not gym-bro ’roid muscles either. Real man muscles, earned through years of backbreaking, honest work.
His expression’s serious as he bends over me, his face hovering just above mine.
“I want you, Jules. Do you still want this? Because once we start, I don’t know if I can stop.”
I nod. The words won’t come right now, but I’ve never wanted anything—or anyone—more in my life.
My hands flutter to his shoulders, fingertips stroking the warm, smooth skin. Tracing over the sharp lines of his triceps, around to his biceps. Instinctively, he flexes beneath my touch, and heat unfurls in my belly. He drops his lips to my neck, kissing the flesh, nipping lightly. I shudder, pleasure washing over me, thrumming through my veins with every wild beat of my heart.
Gliding my hands across his pecs and wrapping around to his back, kneading the tight muscles. The bulge in his jeans presses against my center, and I scissor my legs around his hips, pulling him in closer to me. Heat shimmers between us, the air charged with delicious anticipation.
Of what’s about to happen and what comes after that.
For the first time in forever, a vision of a happy future dances in front of me. I only need to be brave enough to take the first step.
“Fuck me, King. Please.”
“I planned on it.”
“Good. We’re on the same page then.” I smile up at him in the dark, a lone moonbeam glimmering in his navy eyes.
Everything about this feels right.
I wind my hand around his neck, and my thumb runs along the sharp edge of his hairline. I lift my head, kissing him, hard and possessive. Mint and bourbon mix on my tongue as I sweep into his mouth. His tongue twines with mine, and wetness floods my panties.
He grazes the skin of my belly with his hand, and then he’s lifting me up, peeling my shirt off. Unclasping my bra, easing the satin from my body until it falls to the bed. He nuzzles into my cleavage. Breathing me in, the warm exhale a whisper over me. Chill bumps rise on my skin, nipples peaking. His tongue circles one sharp point, sucking soft, then hard, and my pussy clenches. He rolls the other nipple between his thumb and his finger, his skin rough, increasing the friction. I buck, grinding against his hardness.
Fumbling with the button of his jeans, panting with need.
I’ve been with only two other guys in all this time, and neither of them came close to King. In the bedroom—or anywhere else, for that matter.
His pants are off, and now he’s ripping my panties down my legs. Fast and hungry, pupils dilated. We’re both naked as he spreads my thighs, licking through my wetness. Finding my clit and sucking greedily on the tight bud. A sharp bolt of pleasure rips through me, a soft moan vibrating low in my throat.
“You taste so good.” He mumbles the words, each syllable tickling my sensitive flesh.
I arch up, trying to get more contact, and he sucks harder before dipping two fingers into me. My pussy clenches around him, and it feels so damn wonderful. He adds another, moving in and out of my wetness, and every inch of me’s on fire right now. He moves back up my body, licking and sucking, until we’re face-to-face. His cock twitches against my thigh, demanding attention, and I happily give it.
Running my fingers over the sensitive tip, already damp with pre-cum. I rub it into his skin, then encircle his cock, slide up and down his thick shaft. He lets out a moan, hardening even more in my hand.
“God, I missed you.” King brushes the hair from my eyes, and my chest swells with emotion. Too many feelings to identify, so I latch on to desire.
“Me too.”
