His deep, gravelly voice instantly floods my veins with desire.
A moment later, the vacuum is long forgotten and I’ve turned to press my body to his.
Grasping his shirt, my eyes find his. “You’re home early.”
He kisses me.
It’s rough.
Raw.
Urgent.
And not long enough for me.
But King’s interest isn’t in having his mouth on mine at the moment. He wants to get his mouth on my body. I know this because I know him, and this is always his preference.
Keeping his hand around my throat, he drags his lips from mine and demands, “Strip.”
“I want you to strip me.”
His eyes flash with warning as he lets go of my neck. The kind of warning that gets my panties wet. “Lily.” It’s one word, but the way it falls darkly between us says everything he wants me to hear.
King will take what he wants, what he knows I’ll give, and he’ll exact it ruthlessly if he has to. But he wants to direct me. And he wants my submission.
I move my hands to my top and lift it over my head, not taking my eyes off his. Watching him watch me, and the reactions he has, is something I live for. Eight years with him, and I never fail to see the kind of need he’s always watched me with. If anything, it’s increased. King can’t get enough of me in the same way I can’t get enough of him.
Reaching around to the back of my bra, I unclip it and let it fall to the floor.
I feel King’s low growl of approval deep within.
Slowly, I unbutton my jeans and slide the zip down. I step out of them, kick them to the side, and then hook my finger into the top of my panties.
King’s eyes zero in on my fingers.
I don’t give him what he wants this time.
Instead, I slip my hand in my panties and rub my clit. “I need your fingers, King.” I finger myself. “Here.” That word is practically a moan. I’m so turned on and wet, and my fingers feel good inside me, but his would feel better. God how I want his fingers deep inside.
“Fuck,” he rasps, barely maintaining control. I see that in his eyes, in his shoulders, in the hard set of his jaw. I want to ruin that control. I want to force him to take me roughly.
I keep touching myself while bringing my other hand to my throat where King has hold of me. “Fuck me with your fingers, King.”
Moving faster than I imagined he would, he lifts me over his shoulder and carries me to the dining table. Placing me down so I’m sitting on the edge of it, he tears my panties off. He then grips my neck again and finally—finally—gives me what I want.
His fingers inside me.
Two of them.
Reaching deep, finding the exact spot he knows I need him to find.
I rest my hands on the table either side of me, bring one leg up to rest my foot on the edge of the table, and rest my other foot on the chair next to King. I then grind with his fingers, seeking pleasure with him.
He drags his eyes from my pussy to meet my gaze, heat blazing in them. “Bite your lip.”
I do as he says. There’s something about me biting my lip that King loves. It always gets him harder, and even more so if he’s got his fingers curled tightly around my throat like he does now.
“Fuck.” He works his fingers deeper in me while the ones around my neck dig into my skin.
