The Rebel King (All the King's Men Duet #2) - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,83
and moans.
He pulls back, the forest green of his eyes swallowed by midnight at the centers. “Ask me to fuck you, Nix.”
I steel myself against the overwhelming appeal of his body and his desire for me. His cock is hard and ready against my thigh. “No.”
The right side of his full mouth tips up into a “so it’s like that” grin, and he sinks to his knees, presses my legs wider, pushes the dress up and pulls my panties down and off. He grabs my ass with both hands and presses his face into my pussy, sucking my clit hard.
“Oh, God.” My fingers claw into his hair, and I try to press his mouth harder into me. He resists, flicking a long-lashed stare up at me, his dark hair disrupted by my fingers.
“Ask me to fuck you.”
“No.” I spread my legs wider, turning the temptation back on him. He closes his eyes and draws in a deep breath.
“Dammit, the smell of you is everything, Nix.”
He’s so beautiful, kneeling between my knees, and he loves me. He told his father that he chooses me over him, over everything. Beneath my confidence, my bravado, I’m scared to death for him, for us. A campaign is never easy, and if Maxim decides to run, his will face more challenges than most. My greatest fears and the most incredible possibilities tangle. I don’t get to choose one without getting the other. Right now, all I can choose is this. All I can choose is him.
“Fuck me, Maxim.”
He’s up and has me turned around and bent over the arm of the couch in seconds. Cool air kisses my ass when he guides the dress up. His first hard thrust pushes me up onto my tiptoes. His hand at the base of my spine presses me deeper into the couch, holds me in place for the aggressive thrust of his body into mine.
“Nix,” he grunts behind me. “Your pussy is . . .”
He bends me over farther, pushes the gown higher until the hem spills around my ears, sinking in deeper.
“That’s it,” he groans. “God, yes. Can you touch yourself?”
I nod frantically, so close to orgasm I know it won’t take much. I widen my legs and touch myself. My clit is swollen and the insides of my thighs are wet.
“No matter what happens,” he says, tracing up my ribcage to cup my breast, “it’s just us, Lennix. Don’t forget this. Don’t forget us.”
And then I’m coming and I’m sobbing, one hand between my legs and one hand gripping the couch. I don’t know if my tears are because this pleasure, this feeling is so far beyond anything I’ve ever known or could imagine with anyone else, or because in the days to come, for what’s ahead, I’m not sure it will be enough.
37
Maxim
Chuck Garrett, Chair of the Democratic National Committee, is one of those guys who will always be the manager, never the rock star. He must instinctively know, and rightfully so, that he doesn’t have what it takes to win a national election, but he takes pride in holding sway over who does win. Right now, he’s in my office thinking he holds some kind of sway over me.
He’s mistaken.
I’m only meeting with him because when the competition leans forward at the card table, you look at his hand. I still have reservations about Lennix’s safety, but Grim assures me he’s on it. I haven’t officially declared my run, but I’m close, and if I do, Chuck’s guy will be on the ballot.
“We could have met at Bourbon Steak,” he says, settling into the chair on the other side of my desk. “They do a superb filet mignon. Responsibly sourced. I know that’s your thing.”
“My thing?” I chuckle. “I guess it is. Well, I thought meeting at the Four Seasons on Pennsylvania Avenue, no less, with the DNC chair, would send a very loud, public message that could be premature.”
“Premature? You have some strong early support. Being seen with me could send an early sign of power for you.”
“You think I need to borrow power from you?” I ask.
He stiffens, a frown pushing the wrinkles of his forehead into irritated folds. “Not exactly borrow, but we both know you have no experience, so maybe it would ease some worry about your leadership.”
I don’t mean to laugh; it just happens. “You would do that for me?” The man’s party is in shambles and they barely listen to him, so surely he doesn’t expect me to.