She shrugs. “Just an observation.”
Silence stretches.
She swings one leg lazily over the other. Bare legs catching the light.
“You’re what—six foot?” she continues.
I don’t answer.
Her smile widens.
“Compact,” she says thoughtfully. “Efficient.”
My molars grind.
She rolls onto her side, propping her head up with her hand, studying me like I’m entertainment.
“Short king energy,” she decides.
My fingers curl into fists. I turn slowly.
“What the fuck did you just call me?”
Her smirk is sharp enough to cut.
I blink slowly. She blinks back. Innocent as sin.
“Short. King.”
My mouth twitches despite myself. “You’re really asking to be fucked stupid, huh?”
“Think you can do that?” she hums, stretching lazily across the leather like it’s her personal playground. “If your dick matches your height, I don’t know.”
I’m on her in a heartbeat.
She’s already laughing—low, wicked, as I haul her down the couch by the hips, her knees parting around me with a soft gasp. I wedge between her thighs, pinning her under my weight, one hand braced beside her head, the other fisting the hem of her shirt and shoving it up high, bunching it under her arms, exposing black lace.
Fuck, she’s annoyingly hot.
I hook two fingers in the cup and yank the bra down roughly. Her tits spill free, nipples already tight from the cool air and the way she’s been watching me all day. I don’t waste time—mouth on one, hard suck, teeth grazing just enough to make her arch.
“Fuck,Maksim—”
“That’s right.” I switch to the other, tongue flicking the peak while my hand slides down, palming her through her shorts. “Better say my name when I ruin that tight cunt you love to keep away from me.”
“I haven’t—”
I don’t let her finish. My fingers are at the waistband of her denim shorts—tight, dark-wash, the kind that hug her ass like they were painted on. Exactly why I bought them; the button pops open easy under my thumb, zipper already half-down from the way she’s been squirming. I drag them over her hips with her black panties tangled inside, so much better than what she wore before.
She looks exactly how I like her.
I shake the thought—no time for finesse, I shove them down just past her thighs. She kicks them the rest of the way off with her shoes in an impatient huff, legs spreading wider for me.
I reach back one-handed, fist the back of my shirt between my shoulder blades and yank it over my head in one rough pull. It hits the floor somewhere behind the couch. My jeans are next; shoved low enough to free my cock.
The ladder catches the light through the window, silver bars gleaming.
Her eyes drop to it. Darken. That wicked little spark flares again. “Oh, didn’t know you hadthat,” she murmurs.
