The King - S.R. Jones Page 0,94

my thumb to stroke her clit.

“Oh, lord, yes, yes, yes,” she chants as if praying.

Then I stop, I stop, and her mouth falls open. “Say please, sir,” I demand.

“What?” She’s fighting it again, her breath coming rapidly as our gaze’s lock, something intense passing between us.

“Ask me nicely,” I say.

“Please, sir,” she says.

“Please, sir, what?”

“Please, sir … make me come.”

“Good girl.”

In this moment, I don’t feel like a king—I feel like a fucking god.

I’m going to come. I need her to first, so I tap her clit, hard and fast, not sure if she’ll like it, but she does because she cries out and grips my cock as if she’s fucking strangling it.

I come so hard I see the stars I wanted her to.

I flip us again, so she’s underneath, me still inside, and I kiss her ravenously. She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me back. Not wanting to, but knowing I must, I pull out of her, tie off the condom, and throw it into the small trash can by the bed. Then I go back to kissing her.

I can’t get enough of this girl. My hand presses between her legs, cupping her pussy, and she moans. Goddamn, she moans as if we’ve not just fucked, as if she’s not just come twice.

Needing to see if I can make her come again, I keep cupping her whole pussy, pressing it, and she presses back. She’s so swollen and wet that when I slip one finger inside it just glides in. I wish she were sloppy with my cum; that’s the only way this would be hotter. I add a second finger, then a third. And soon I’m fucking her with my hand, three fingers inside her, and the heel of my hand pressed right up against her.

She’s pulsing against me, and I don’t know if it’s because of aftershocks from her previous orgasm or because she’s about to come again. Her fingers grip my shoulders, and her eyes widen as her neck strains, and she parts her lips… She’s reaching for it, chasing it, and it’s the most fucking beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

Then she comes, her cunt rubbing up against my palm as she cries out over and over.

When she’s finished, her head falls back, and I stare at her in awe. I’ve never had a woman so openly carnal in my bed. I’ve had women who are filthy fucks, who love all kinds of depraved shit, but I’ve never had someone so greedy for me as Cassie. I’ve never had someone so honestly submissive. It’s always been a game, but it’s not a game between us.

She wipes her face and gives a soft laugh. “You broke me,” she says.

“Good,” I reply. “I wanted to. I want to break you wide open, Cassie, and see your fucking soul. I want all of you. Every deep, dark hidden corner.”

I don’t know why the hell I’m saying these possessive, stupid words, but they come tumbling out.

She looks at me, and her eyes clear, and then she shakes her head. “No, you don’t get to have all of me, Konstantin.”

What the fuck? “I don’t?” I ask.

“No, you don’t. You get this, but you don’t get it all. Only the man I love, the man who loves me in return, gets it all. We can do this again, though; it was fun.”

She kisses me, and it’s nice, but the hotness has gone. In fact, it’s as if a veil has come over her, and she’s cool and collected.

She’s like me. Like I am after sex. I’m normally the one to close down, if I ever opened up in the first place, which I don’t. I did now, though, and this woman has slapped me in the face.

Fuck her. Who does she think she is?

Two can play at her game.

“I prefer to sleep alone,” I say. It’s cold and hard, and I see it hits home because there’s a flicker of hurt in her eyes. I must be fucking losing it because despite the shit she’s just pulled with me, I don’t want to see that hurt. “I have nightmares,” I grind out.

“Ah, I’m sorry, that sucks.” She kisses me sweetly. “I hope you don’t tonight. I hope you’re tired out enough not to.” She winks at me, gets out of the bed, covers herself, and walks out of the room as if she doesn't have a care in the world.

What just happened?

I should be glad, happy I had the