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His kiss is fierce, almost feral with passion.
His wet body is against mine, and I can feel his shaft growing against my leg. I want him inside me so badly. In some ways it’s the only time I feel complete when he takes me.
“Fuck me,” I manage to say between kisses.
“Yes,” he growls. “Yes, little Harper.” He turns me around so that my ass is in the air and I’m leaning out of the tub onto a set of towels on the ledge. With a shock I feel his lips against my butt cheeks, as his hands massage them.
“What are you doing?” I ask him softly, but he ignores me. His fingers are tracing the soft skin from my ass to my clit, softly, barely touching, so that I’m practically whining for him. Then I feel his tongue on me, in my most intimate of places.
It’s a sensation I’ve never felt before, to have his tongue circling that opening while his fingers get closer and closer to plunging inside.
But instead of doing that, despite the slick evidence of my need, he grasps one butt cheek in each hand and licks the length of me as he opens me up. I squeal as his tongue moves in like a snake, swirling its wetness as he massages my ass cheeks.
“Jayson,” I say, shocked, as he licks me. The only sound in return is a growling groan, and the vibration of his voice makes me close to coming. Then one finger slowly enters my tender wetness moving in and out, rubbing the g spot as he licks, brushing my clit with his thumb.
I’m weak, b
arely able to hold my head up as he expertly brings me to a climax harder than I’ve ever felt in my life. I scream his name, my husband’s name, my true husband’s name, as he fills all my openings with himself.
“That’s right,” he says as I pant as the orgasm subsides. Then he slaps my ass softly. “That’s right.”
He presses the head of his cock against my slit, teasing me with the petal-soft skin of the head before pushing it in, its hard length filling me and opening me. His slow pace is perfectly torturous, perfectly pleasurable at the same time.
“Fuck me,” I whine again. “You feel so good.”
“It’s you.” His voice is low. “You feel so wet and soft. You have the best pussy, Harper, so sweet and tight.” He swivels his cock around as he grasps my hips. “That pussy is mine forever.”
I know he’s right. It’s always been for him, from the first moment I laid eyes on him and he made my virginal self all hot and bothered, I knew it was for him.
“I’m yours,” I groan softly, leaning into the towel.
“Damn right,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Don’t you forget it.” He slaps my ass again as he increases the pace, and the sting feels good along with the hard strokes of his cock. I shiver, but I’m nowhere near cold.
He grabs one of my breasts and pinches the nipple as he leans over and kisses my back. He’s never been this passionate with me.
“Harper, you’re going to make me come so hard,” he says. “Your sweet little body, your pussy, your tits… all mine.”
“Yes,” I gasp. “Fuck me,” I say. He starts fucking me harder and as the pleasure hits, I can hear the sound of him slapping his hips against my ass. I tip my hips for him and he groans in response, his thumb rubbing my hole as he owns me.
“Jayson,” I cry out as I come again and again, his relentless thrusting making me shudder with pleasure.
“I love you,” he says in a strained voice. “S’agapo.” And then the heat and wetness jets into me as I convulse around him, the warmth and heat the perfect start of our real lives. Together.
19
Excerpt - KING by Jess Bentley
Jordan
My head is reeling. I fish around in my purse for the keys to my parents’ place, but I don’t make contact with anything. Maybe it’s unlocked. Just as I reach for the door handle, the door pops open and I’m face to face with a man in a open-necked button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and suit pants. He’s stunning. The look on his face is surprised and receptive, his bright blue eyes bright, their crinkled edges softening his expression. He looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t place him. He definitely looks gorgeous.
“Oh, hi,” he says. His voice rumbles softly.
I fumble a bit, rub my hand on the side of my black dress, and hold out my hand to shake his. I’m flustered. His touch feels like electricity. I try not to stare at the way his collar falls around his upper chest and collarbone, or how the fabric stretches across broad shoulders.
“You’re Jordan,” he says.
“Yes,” I manage to say. He opens the door wide and moves out the way.
