Page 163 of By His Vow
“Baby,” he mumbles, “this is nothing after what we shared last night.”
His eyes search mine so intently, I can’t help but wonder if he’s trying to work out if I’m thinking about it or not.
“That’s not the point,” I argue. “That is gross. Last night was…” I trail off, unable to find the right word. A word that won’t increase the already massive ego he has.
“Was?” he asks after throwing my toothbrush into the sink.
“Not gross?” I reply intelligently.
His eyebrows lift in amusement. “Not gross. I guess it could be worse.”
Wrapping his hands around my waist, he lifts me until I have no choice but to sit on the cold granite counter.
He steps between my thighs, wrapping my legs around his waist.
His hard dick brushes against my pussy and I shudder, desire rolling through me.
Twisting his fingers in my hair, he drags my head back, positioning me exactly where he wants me.
His warm, minty breath rushes over my face as he studies me.
“King?” I whisper.
“Fuck. I love it when you moan my name.”
“I didn’t—” My words are cut off as his lips brush over mine.
At first, it’s innocent, but then he pulls my hair, sending a shot of pain down my neck. I gasp in shock, and he makes the most of my parted lips by plunging his tongue past them.
He kisses me as if I’m the most important person in the world.
The only girl in the world…
My hands slide up his arms and over his shoulders before my fingers thread into the short hair at the nape of his neck.
He groans into our kiss, his hips rolling against my pussy.
Despite the soreness, I ache to feel him inside me again.
Reaching between us, I grab his dick and put it into position.
“Aren’t you sore?” he whispers, kissing along my jaw.
“I don’t care.” It’s true.
His eyes open, holding mine captive.
I lean forward, mourning the loss of his lips, and he smiles.
“I care, Tatum. There might be many, many things I want to do to you, but I can assure you, hurting you isn’t one of them.”
My breath catches at the sincerity in his words.
“You good there for a minute?” he asks.
I want to cling to him, to stop him from leaving me, but I refrain. The less I look like a crazy, sex-starved fool, the better.
And that’s all it is. The lingering high of all the orgasms. It has nothing to do with how I feel for him. I don’t feel anything for him, so it’s a moot point.