Page 32 of Merciless King

“Yes.”

“I can’t give what you deserve, London.” His eyes searched mine. He was breathing heavily, strung bow tight, strain lining his handsome face. “I can’t give you more than this.”

I’d take one night. I’d take one night with Van over a lifetime with someone else, with someone who didn’t make me feel this way. “I don’t care.”

“I won’t fuck you,” he finally said. “Shit between us is complicated enough.” His jaw tightened. “But I’ll relieve that ache you got between your thighs. I think I might fucking die if I don’t at least get to do that.” His nostrils flared. “Is that what you want, London?”

I stared up at him in shock that he’d actually agreed, even as I nodded. It might not be exactly what I’d asked for, but I’d take whatever he could give me. Maybe that made me pathetic, but I didn’t care.

He came at me with a growl that lifted goose bumps all over my body, sweeping me off my feet. He kept walking until we hit the living room. Then he sat on the couch so I was straddling his hips. I could feel him hot and hard beneath me, and I couldn’t stop myself from grinding down against him, from rolling my hips.

He hissed. “I’m trying to do the right thing here, sweetheart. You’re not making it easy.”

How was that the right thing when we both so obviously wanted it? I didn’t want to make it easy on him. I wanted him buried inside me. Before he said anything else, I gathered my courage, which wasn’t hard with how turned on I was, and wrapped my arms around his wide shoulders, pressing my lips against his.

He groaned, his arms coming around me tight, and he kissed me back, hard, sweeping his tongue into my mouth.

I’d never been kissed before, had never done anything with a man before. When you barely spoke to the opposite sex, doing anything else with them was kind of difficult.

I always worried I’d do it wrong, but with Van it felt easy.

It felt wonderful.

The taste of him filled my senses, the heat and rasp of his tongue against mine, the surprising softness of his lips, the scrape of his stubble against my own skin. I took it all in. My hands rested on his shoulders and I tentatively slid one down his back, feeling the definition of his muscles, the way they shifted when he moved, while the other hand slid higher up the back of his neck, my fingers delving into his thick dark hair.

I couldn’t get enough, of his mouth, of the sounds he made, of the way he felt pressed up against me, and with the fierce way Van was kissing me back, I was pretty sure he was enjoying it just as much.

The longer we kissed, the hotter I got. I was aching everywhere. My skin felt sensitive and the throb between my thighs was relentless.

Van made a rough sound and his hand slid up my side, thumb resting below my breast. My nipples strained in anticipation. I thought, hoped, he might touch me there, but instead, he pulled away with a groan, breaking our kiss, and dropped his mouth to one of the tight peaks pressing against my shirt, and sucked it into his mouth, right through my tank.

I cried out and fisted his hair tighter. He nipped gently, using his teeth, his tongue, his lips on me until I was writhing helplessly in his lap. Then he moved to the other side and did it all over again, until I was begging—for more, for relief, for whatever he wanted to give me.

Van lifted his head. “More?” he rasped.

“Y-yes,” I gasped out.

His mouth came back down on mine, one of his arms banding around me, and as he kissed me, he dropped his other hand, sliding it down over my belly until he reached my waist.

He tugged down the front of my shorts.

I gasped when he shoved his hand down the front of my underwear, when those strong thick fingers grazed my heated slick flesh.

He hissed. “Fuck, London, you feel good.”

“Please,” I said. It was all I could say. He started circling my clit and I gasped against his lips.

“I would love to take my time with you. But we’re gonna do this quick, ’cause I can’t take much more,” he rasped.

I nodded frantically.

“You want my fingers inside you, baby? You want to ride them?”

“Yes.” I was already lifting higher, giving him room. He instantly slid one thick finger inside me, and I moaned, pressing my forehead to his as he started sliding in and out, his thumb still working my clit.

“Good?” The sound was more a vibration through his chest than actual words.

I whimpered, which he obviously took as an affirmative answer because he added a second finger. I whimpered again, desperate for more.