Queen Her (King Me Duet 2)

David, who loved his city, began to tell her the history around it. “That’s the first place we’ll eat when the city opens up.”

To myself, I promised I’d take her there first. Only one of us could win. And I swore on my life, it would be me.

After we landed and went back in the penthouse, David got a call and had to duck out as he took it.

“Meet me in your bedroom in fifteen,” I whispered, before securing the place, as was my job.

I was banking she’d be waiting when I came.

Fourteen

Natalie

Who was I kidding? I was going to wait for him as he asked.

“Natalie.”

I’d been so deep in thought. I snapped my head in David’s direction. “What?”

He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m sorry, but I have another meeting I must attend. I can have my admin order us lunch.”

“That’s fine by me.” I hooked my thumb over my shoulder. “I’m going to crash for a little while. I didn’t sleep much last night.” We laughed at the little awkwardness.

“Yeah, I’ll see you in a few hours.”

I nodded and then I made my exit.

The penthouse was large, but not that large. Still, I held my breath as I tightened my arms around myself. Torment was pleasure and pain as I waited. Hoping he’d come. Praying he didn’t.

The knock was soft, but persistent.

I had a choice. Open the door and invite my tormentor inside. Or leave it closed, opening the door for my penance.

Liam wasn’t actually my tormentor. I was tormenting myself. I reached out and turned the handle.

He didn’t immediately come inside. His steps were slow but purposeful. Haunted eyes pinned me in place with the wall at my back.

It was as if he moved in slow motion as he closed the door. I felt the question in his stare, begging me to answer it with one word. Go or stay.

I reached out a hand, palm up. He met it with his own and guided our hands up over my head. He lowered his head, so our foreheads touched before pressing his lips to the corner of mine. An ache so deep clawed at my throat as tears burned the back of my eyes. Words wouldn’t give us the answers we sought. I went for other ways of communicating that were just as meaningful to me.

His shirt was mincemeat in my hands as I fought with the hem. He stepped back and turned the lock on the door.

We didn’t say anything. He just stood before me and peeled his shirt over his head. When he was done, I did the same. He skimmed his hands under my breasts and around my back. Soon, the constricting bra was gone. My breasts were putty in his hands. I bit back a moan as his thumbs rubbed circles around my taut nipples.

“Please,” I began to say, but he swallowed the words.

Why had I bothered to fight him? He was mine and I was his. We sank to floor unable to make it a few steps to the bed.

Time was against us and our current pace was far too slow. I kicked off my shoes and then my underwear when he took way too long getting them off.

When he slid down my body, I took a hand full of his hair and jerked his face up. I shook my head and mouthed, “Fuck me.”

He pushed up with his forearms, muscle bunching as he raised up to his knees. He pushed my legs apart with one of them. Then, he hooked his arms under the bend of my legs and pulled me to him. It was agony waiting for the pressure to fill me like only he had.

Somehow, he managed to pull out his long, hard cock while raising my ass off the floor. “Do it,” I begged with whispered words.

I sucked in air as he did, thrusting hard and deep. I let my eyes roll to the back of my head. It felt like heaven with a little bit of hell.

Selfish and greedy, I reached around and dug my nails in his ass urging him to pound me harder and deeper, faster and meaner. I didn’t want his tenderness. I didn’t deserve it. I hooked one leg around his back, and he slid in farther. I sighed a bit too loud as his hand clamped over my mouth.

“Shhh,” was all he said.

He moved one arm so he could use his hand to strum a chord over my clit. I skipped right to the edge of bliss and arched my back off the ground.

I lost track of moments, seconds, minutes. The only thing I could count was the orgasm that rushed up like a tidal wave, sending me tumbling to crash over and over like waves as he found his own release.