King Maker (King Maker 3)

He squeezed my hips as he pistoned in and out of me. At one point he gave me a stinging slap on my ass. He said nothing. I took the hint of pain until I was lost again to pleasure from the way he had me angled.

“Please, Kalen,” I whispered. I was so close.

He paused in his movement, at least the fucking kind, and walked over to a table. I had a moment to wonder if I should have kept the plea to myself. He positioned me on my back, my legs on his chest with my feet on either side of his head. He angled my hips and thrust into me once more. One hand held me just where he wanted me to be.

With the other hand he used his thumb to exert pressure of the orgasm kind against my small bundle of nerves. I fractured beneath him as he continued to relentlessly pound into me.

I wasn’t given time to come down from the pleasure before it built up in me again. He shoved up my shirt, letting cool air touch my skin, exposing my breasts.

Possessively, he kneaded them and teased my nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Smoothly, his expert hand came back to my clit to bring forth another orgasm. It was two to zero on that count, but his movements started to not be so controlled. His breaths started to come more erratically.

Just as quickly as he orchestrated this, he stilled inside me. “I don’t have a condom, lass. You’ll have to do the honors.”

I nodded and he pulled out, stirring the beginnings of another orgasm in me. I was suddenly on my knees with a massive cock staring me in the face. I could have been pissed. Maybe I should have been. But my mouth watered with the idea of taking him in and controlling his pleasure as he had mine.

There was no hesitation on my part before I took as much of him as deeply as I could. I tasted myself on his skin and didn’t mind it. I expertly took him in and out until he muttered, “Fuck,” in a way that unglued me.

Having power over this powerful man was worth the indignity of being told I would go down on him. And maybe there was a bit of guilt in my decision not to fight him as well. I could have left him to jerk himself off.

I swirled my tongue as I continued to bob up and down. His hand finally came to the back of my head to participate in guiding my rhythm on his length. I hollowed my cheeks as much as I could and opened my mouth as best I could. But Kalen was a big man. My teeth possibly grazed him lightly in the process. He didn’t seem to mind.

“I’m coming,” he warned.

I reminded myself that spitters were quitters and took the huge load like a champ. I swallowed as each squirt detonated the back of my throat.

When he was done and tried to pull out, I held on to him with the hand that helped work him into a frenzy. I continued to tease his sensitive head, causing him to buck a few times. I smiled at the control I had before finally releasing him.

He helped me to my feet. Then he proceeded to reverently straighten my shirt. I stood, not knowing what was next. I was confused by his actions. He’d been so demanding and rough in the beginning, and now he was acting like I was a porcelain doll.

His fingers cupped my face in his hand and he stroked my cheek with one thumb. This time I hoped he might kiss me. I wanted the intimacy, to feel closer to him, like this could be a beginning and not an end. I still loved this man.

He stared at me like he wanted to.

“I’ll need your answer by tomorrow.”

Then he turned away, unlocked the door, and stepped out. He’d fucked me and walked away.

Twenty-Six

With yesterday’s The Wall Street Journal splayed out in front of me like a tablecloth over the desk, I flexed it, causing it to fold halfway. Despite how easy it was to get an e-subscription, I enjoyed the feeling of a real newspaper in my fingers. I lifted it up in order to read an article lower on the page.

I felt scarred by my time with Bailey. Touching her had only opened a wound and created more of a need for her particular kind of bandage.

There had been no other choice but for me to leave. Had I not, I wouldn’t have given her the option to ever walk away from me.

Griff blasted through the connecting door of our hotel rooms, swaying on his feet. It hadn’t taken him long to get plastered.

“Whi ye fanny bawbag dae ‘e noo?” He only paused for a second before changing to more English. “Ye are like fud over a fud.” He laughed at his own joke.