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It’s push and pull. Give and take. Even right now when he thinks I’m completely at his mercy, though I’m absolutely not.
Kingsley tightens his hold on my thighs, putting a halt to my frantic movements. But he continues to suck, nibble and fuck my folds until I’m delirious.
Jesus. He’s driving me insane.
Just when I think I’m going to become one with the bed, the sound of something vibrating echoes like doom in the air.
Kingsley emerges from between my legs and licks his lips. “You taste as wild as you look.”
I expect him to come back for that taste, but he retrieves his phone from his pocket, stares at the screen, then tells me, “I have to take this. Be quiet for me, sweetheart.”
I start to pull back, but Kingsley releases my thigh and thrusts two fingers inside me at the same time as he answers, “Shaw speaking… Yes, I’m free to talk.”
Holy shit. Is this crazy asshole for real?
Apparently, he is, because he curls his fingers inside me and I have to slam a hand on my mouth to silence any embarrassing sounds.
“Yes, I understand,” he says with the calmness of a sinning priest.
How the hell can he stay in his element while he’s rearranging my insides?
I don’t get an answer to that, but I get another finger, and this time, the three of them are so deep inside me that they hit my G-spot. Once, twice…
My head rolls back and a lusty noise slips from me.
Kingsley smirks with the cunningness and dripping charm of Lucifer himself as he shakes his head, then proceeds to finger-fuck me. In and out with a frantic rhythm that robs my sanity.
Goddamn it.
God. Fucking. Damn. It.
The fact that someone else could hear my cries of pleasure doesn’t seem to stop me from releasing them. If anything, all I hear is the sloshing sound of his fingers sinking in and out of my arousal and the pure filthiness of it tugs me to the edge.
An edge so steep, I’m both exhilarated and terrified to take the leap.
“I’ll make a final offer after I review last year’s statistics. If they’re below my standards, I’ll drop them before they take their next dose of oxygen.” He pulls the phone away and mouths, “There. Good girl.”
I come then. From the combination of the situation, his words, and how his fingers pound into me fast and hard.
My noises are uncontrollable and I turn my head to the side and stuff my face into the mattress to muffle them.
Kingsley continues lazily thrusting his fingers inside me until he finishes the call.
I stay hidden in the mattress, both shame and thrill coursing through me with equal intensity.
Just what the hell happened to me just now? Do I need to start seeing some therapist to understand myself better? Because my body, soul, and heart seem to have given my brain the time out of his life.
Two powerful hands cup my cheeks forcing me to face him, and that’s when I find him standing above me, looking at me with an expression he has no business directing at me.
The same way he looked at me all those years ago. When he said he decided to keep me after all.
His fingers slide all over my face and hair with a gentle yet possessive touch. “So beautifully broken, my little whore.”
I snap out of it and push him away, scooting backward on the mattress. “I’m not your whore.”
Light shines in his usually dim eyes. “Would you rather be called a good girl then?”
“N-no.”
