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I want it all.
I want him.
Then his lips brush lightly against my own. “You have my protection, sweetness,” he rasps against my mouth. “You have the club’s protection. I’m claiming you right here, right fucking now. You’re mine, and if either of them even looks at you funny, I’ll take care of them.”
I start to ask what that means, but I don’t get the chance because his mouth presses against mine and his tongue slides deep inside of my mouth. He tastes me. Thoroughly. All thoughts completely vanish, and there is only him. He surrounds me. His touch. His taste. Him.
When he breaks the kiss, his lips move down my throat, and I feel his tongue slide across the marks that my mother left. They won’t bruise. It’s just red from her rough squeeze, but they’re marked right now.
“Never again,” he rasps against my neck.
I grip his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin as he shifts his hands, wrapping them around my hips and picking me up, then setting my ass down on the counter. This is not sanitary at all whatsoever, but then again, it’s not like I have any clients who will be walking in the door anytime soon.
“We shouldn’t,” I exhale as his mouth moves up and down my throat, stopping at the hollow and sucking in deep.
One of his hands slides across my belly, his fingers slipping just beneath the waistband until he reaches the button. He pops it, pulling the zipper down so slowly that I can hear every single tooth catch as it descends.
Then he shoves his hand between my legs, cupping me there, and my head falls back, hitting the cabinet that holds my measuring cups. It bounces slightly, and I’m sure it should hurt, but it doesn’t. I can feel absolutely nothing other than his hand between my legs. Nothing else in the whole world exists right now.
His mouth moves to mine again just as a finger slips inside of me. I gasp at the intrusion, my center still tender. He takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth again. Then he fucks me. My mouth with his tongue, my pussy with his finger.
It’s too much.
I’m not sure what too much, not enough, or the perfect amount is when it comes to this stuff, but right now feels extremely overwhelming. Then his finger curls inside of me, and I whimper. He swallows the sound, chuckling into my mouth, and I take that moment to swallow his sound.
It’s the single sexiest thing to ever happen to me.
This is absolutely the sexiest thing in the whole world.
He is the sexiest man I’ve ever seen in my life.
I inhale his scent. It’s the same as it was last night and before that—leather, oil, and then a little spice. It’s perfection. Just like him. Then his thumb presses against my clit, and my eyes roll to the back of my head.
Elvis lifts his head, breaking the kiss as he looks into my eyes. They’re half-open, rolling backward, and I begin to pant. His fingers move, his thumb applies more pressure, and my hands move from his shoulders to the lip of the counter. My fingers curl, and I hold on to it as I lift my hips to meet his touch.
“I need more,” I breathe. “More.”
He chuckles again, and for a flash of a moment, I think about wriggling out of his arms because of that little laugh, but I’m too close, too needy. And I am just that. So damn needy. I’m not even ashamed of it. Right now, I would do just about anything to come.
Then, as if something, a switch, is turned on inside of me, his thumb presses harder, moves faster, and my hips lift to meet his touch over and over until it rushes through me. My entire body trembles. It unfurls from my belly and consumes every square inch of me.
His hand moves from between my legs before I can even catch my breath. My body, my mind, every part of me is still reeling from my orgasm when I’m lifted off the counter, placed on my feet, then spun around.
“Hands on the counter,” he growls.
I do as I’m told, mainly because it’s him who’s told me, but also because I want more.
Even though I’ve come, I still feel empty. I need him inside of me. The aching between my legs has turned from pain to need—desire. If I don’t feel him stretching me, filling me soon, I think I might actually explode.
Then it happens. He pushes my pants down to my ankles. His hands grip my hips, and he wrenches me backward just as he buries himself inside of me with one swift thrust. My hair flies over my head as my neck arches, and I let out a loud whimper. I can’t believe the sound came from me, but as it bounces off the walls, I know it’s my voice.
KING
“Say my name when you come again,” I growl. “Fuck,” I hiss. “Say my name over and over. I need to hear it. My real name.”
“Elvis,” she cries out.
It sounds like goddamn heaven to my ears.
