Page 35 of The Midnight King
As anger floods through me again, I move my foot from the King’s wrist to his chest, sliding the high-heeled shoe between his pectorals up to his throat, pressing lightly. He tilts his head back. “Fuck, Celinda.”
I freeze. “You know who I am?”
“I asked around. You’ve made quite the impression on my court. On my son, as well. He’s very interested in you.”
“Oh.” I bite my lip, removing my foot from his neck. “I don’t want to hurt him.”
“He’ll find someone else,” says the King with a deep, desperate urgency that makes me hot all over. “Step on me again, for fuck’s sake.”
So I do. I press his neck and throat with my heels, and then I tease his cock with the toe of my shoe until he’s writhing, every muscle in his glorious chest and abdomen straining with need. Only then do I crouch over him, shift a bit of lace aside, and impale myself fully on his thick cock.
“Shit,” I breathe, pushing all the way down. He grabs my hips, and I clasp my hands over his pecs, jolting up and down as I ride him. The pleasure is building, but not fast enough, so I circle two fingertips over my clit, working my way toward the peak.
“I’m going to come,” he gasps, chest heaving.
But I grip his jaw tightly, then smack his cheek. “No. You do not come until I do.”
His handsome face contorts in pleasurable agony. “Oh fuck, do that again. Please. Please.”
I can’t express how much I crave his submission, his misery, his desperation. I slap his face once more, lightly. “Wait your turn.”
Then I lean back, with his cock still inside me, and I toy with my clit, holding his gaze the whole time.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says hoarsely. “So fucking beautiful, so wicked, so sinful. My exquisite Sin.”
I’m panting, squirming on him, so close. “Call me that again.”
“Sin,” he hisses. “My wicked fucking Sin.”
“Yes, fuck…” I bounce on him again, and the orgasm snaps through my body almost instantly, flinging me into a state of near madness. My vision whites out, stars burst in my head, my thighs tremble violently, and I scream my euphoria into the humid air of the greenhouse.
He comes the second after I do, our sweat-slick bodies throbbing in sync. He pulls me down to his chest, wraps me tight, and rolls his hips slightly, moving inside me, emptying all his cum into my body. The friction of his abdomen against my pussy, along with the movement deep in my core, feels too good to be true.
“Oh shit, I’m coming again,” I sob, and I do. I come on him a second time while he pushes my hair back from my face andcloses his lips over mine, savoring all my tremulous moans within the heat of his mouth.
At that moment, the door of the greenhouse opens.
“Shit!” I whisper. Quickly I separate my body from his, dart to the end of the row, and grab my dress from the floor. I retreat just in time, ducking behind a tall plant as two guards come into view.
“Your Majesty?” one of them calls.
While I wrap my dress around myself, the King sits up on the cloth, naked and entirely unbothered. “I’m here, and I’m perfectly safe. Wait outside.”
“Is someone in here with you, Sire?” asks a guard.
“It’s a lady,” replies the King. “A little privacy, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.” Their footsteps retreat, and the greenhouse door closes.
The King grins at me. “The life of a royal.”
“Must be annoying.”
“Very.” He gets up and begins to dress himself. But a moment later the outer door bangs again, and the Prince’s voice calls, “Father? The guards said you were in here.”
“Oh no,” I whisper, aghast. The plant I’m standing behind won’t be enough to conceal me if the Prince comes down this row to speak to his father. And I dread the thought of causing Brantley any pain or jealousy.
“Hide over there.” The King points to a large clump of berry bushes with plenty of thick foliage. I duck into them and crouch down.