His jeans were unzipped, and his cock jutted out hard and thick and hungry.
The sight of him so brazenly displayed made my breath catch in my throat.
And perched on his head, slightly askew, sat the golden fae king crown I’d ordered months ago.
The one he’d sworn he wouldnever, ever wear.
“My queen,” he rumbled, his voice dropping into that low growl that always made me shiver. “Come pay tribute to your king.”
I slammed the door shut behind me, my cheeks flushing hot. “Flint! Anyone could have seen!”
“Door opens to the back corridor, not the store.” He pushed off from the desk and stalked toward me, the crown glinting in the overhead light. “I’m not stupid, hon. Just desperate to feel you again.”
“There are fifty people out there,” I hissed.
“Then I guessyou’dbetter be quiet,” he pulled the crown off and tossed it onto the desk, then tugged me into his arms.
“Are you serious right now?”
He responded by sliding his hands down to grip my hips, and I felt the hard length of him pressing against my stomach.
“Let me show you what a real mountain man is like. Way better than any fae king.”
“Flint, wecan’t. The crowds…everyone’sout there.”
“That will make it more fun.”
He was already spinning me around, guiding me toward the desk with firm hands.
Flint pressed gently between my shoulder blades until I bent forward, bracing myself on my forearms against the wooden surface. The position hiked my dress up slightly, and I heard him make a low sound of approval.
“Been thinking about this all night,” he growled, gathering the heavy fabric in his fists and lifting it up over my hips. Cool air hit my thighs, then my ass, and I shivered as he hooked his fingers in my panties and dragged them down to my knees.
“Watching you float around in this dress, looking like some kind of fantasy. Drove me fucking crazy.”
“You could have just asked me to…”
The rest of my sentence dissolved into a gasp as he dropped to his knees behind me. His big hands spread my thighs apart, and then his mouth was on me, his tongue sliding through my folds in one long, devastating stroke.
I bit down on my lip to keep from crying out.
Through the door, I could hear the muffled sounds of the party.
All those people, just yards away, completely unaware that my husband was currently doing unspeakable things to me with his tongue.
The thought should have horrified me. Instead, it made me wetter.
Flint groaned against my flesh, the vibration sending sparks up my spine. He licked and sucked and teased, his beard scratching deliciously against my sensitive skin, until I was trembling and gripping the edge of the desk so hard my knuckles went white.
“Flint,” I whimpered. “Please. No more teasing.”
He pulled back just as I was about to tip over the edge, and I nearly sobbed at the loss.
But then I heard the rustle of denim, felt him rise behind me, and then the blunt head of his cock was pressed against my entrance.
“Remember,” he said, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. “Quiet.”
He thrust into me in one hard stroke, and I had to shove my hand against my mouth to muffle my moan.
