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“Ohhh,” she moans, stirring to reality. Her brown eyes adjust the sleep from them.
I keep pumping my fingers in and out of her, the sound of her arousal seeping from her. God, that’s sexy. I start grinding against her, cum leaking from my cock. I’m so full I could come over and over again and still be full; it’s visceral.
I want to forget the past four months for one night, and feel like I own her in the slightest still.
“Kings? What are you...? Oh...”
I don’t let her ask questions. I use my thumb and circle her clit while I finger-fuck her. My eyes are dark and hooded over her shoulder, hers closing and my mouth falling open, my tongue sticking out to wet my dry lip. I’m beyond aroused watching her fresh from sleep, being lazily fucked by my thick fingers.
I don’t speak; instead, I watch her face as she starts to move against my hand, my hips still thrusting against her ass, between her cheeks. Her eyes squeeze shut and she starts to moan, that familiar sound of my porn star roaring back to life.
“Yeah, baby, there it is. Fuck my fingers, sweetheart,” I moan into her ear, the moon casting some light over her baby-blue nightie, silky against her smooth skin, the material cool against my heated body. I inhale her scent, breathing deep and filling my lungs with her smell. Honeysuckle, my honeysuckle smells like honey while she drips hers onto my fingers.
“Mmmm, Kingston. God, that feels so good,” She groans, and I lower my voice in her ear, egging her on. I want her to come so I can make her complete with pure fucking euphoria. If I get her off before she fully wakes, she will be fucking sated with my touch and crave more of it. She won’t push me away like she has in the past. At least, I hope.
“Tell me you want it.” Finally I give in, scooting backward and turning her on her back, my fingers still taking their sweet time on her greedy cunt.
Her eyes fly open as I curl my finger up and against her G-spot. “Fuck, I want it!” she screams, and my free hand flies up and covers her mouth. I don’t need her waking up our little man.
“Shh, i
f you wake up Prince, we can’t fuck all night,” I groan, pulling out my fingers and bringing them to my lips. I moan when her sweet, potent taste makes its first mark on my waiting tongue. She’s been eating fruit; she’s sweet and tangy as fuck. Goddamn, it’s like drinking straight from the juice jar.
My eyes roll back open and my head drops to look down at her. Under me, she watches in amazement as I lick her clean from my fingers.
“Your cunt is such a slut for me tonight, baby. You practically begged my fingers to stay there. How about some cock?” I ask, my low, gravelly voice thundering deep in my chest.
I start to reach down to release my angry cock that’s been desperate for his woman, when she sits up and pushes against my chest. I fumble back a bit, excited, thinking she is ready to ride her man, but that’s short-lived as my eyes draw near to hers.
Lana’s chest is red, her face screwed tight in anger. I shake my head, confused. What the fuck happened?
“Lana?” I ask, going back in to bring her to me. When she stops me, I push back on my calves.
“No, don’t! I’m not a slut, Kingston. How dare you call me that!”
Wishing I had realized my mistake in the heat of the moment, I drop my head, my shoulders slumping. She hates that. How could I be so fucking forgetful?
“Fuck, Lana, I didn’t mean it. I was just trying to get you going. I forgot, baby. Please don’t push me away.” I do all but bang my head against my palm as I beat myself up internally.
“No, that was bullshit. I’m not a slut, Kingston. Fuck you.”
Slapping me would have hurt less than her words. Closing my eyes, I release a breath as she stands and moves to the bedroom door. I debate giving her space, but the caveman in me overrules that. Getting up fast, I go after her bounding figure down the stairs. She gets to the living area and stops in the middle of the room. Her back is to me as I rush in, my breath picking up due to the mix of arousal I had moments ago and taking two stairs at a time.
“You don’t get it, do you?” she snaps over her shoulder.
I stay standing ten feet away from her. “Get what?”
“You will never learn when it’s too much,” she bites. As she shakes her head, I hear her sniffle.
“What’s too much? Damn it, Lana, talk to me. Tell me what you mean,” I press for more, moving to stand in front of her. I see the tears running down her face and the blackness taking over her eyes. She’s getting ready to shut me out, and I need her to not do that.
“You, Kingston. You’re too much with your ways. Can’t you understand I don’t want to be someone’s property, that I don’t want to be demeaned or owned again? Why can’t you seem to get that?” she huffs, throwing her hands around her shivering form. I reach beside us, grab the throw blanket from the couch, and swing it over her shoulders, holding it in my hands against her chest so it stays closed.
I hear her words, but I don’t understand them like I think she wants me to, and that puts us at odds.
“Lana, I’m not him. I know I can be a little...much, but I’m not demeaning you or owning you, fuck. I’m just trying to let you own me. Don’t you see that?” I ask, paranoia rising in me like bile when you’re sick. I don’t want to lose my queen, but with every fight, I’m finding it hard to stay, finding it more difficult to work shit out.
“No, Kingston, you aren’t making me feel that. You’re drowning me and I can’t breathe. I can’t handle this anymore. You’re too much. I need you to leave me alone!” She yells in my face, her hot breath against my skin, matching the burn of her words.
