Page 163 of LA King

“Leave the panties.” His low, commanding tone vibrates through my body.

“If that’s what you want.”

He closes the gap between us. “You are what I want, princesa.” He gives me a brief kiss and takes a seat behind his desk. He spreads his thighs and indicates the space between them. “Come here.”

I move to stand between him and his desk, and he runs his hands down my ribcage. They come to a stop at my waist, his grip firm and possessive, and then he simply rakes his eyes over me. Eventually they travel back to my face.

“So, getting me all worked up today was your idea of fun, was it?”

I bite my lip and nod.

His smile is dangerous and panty-melting. “Do you know what I like to do for fun?”

I hum and tilt my head. “Fuck?”

He barks a laugh. “Sometimes, yes.”

“But not today?” Disappointment swells. If he’s not going to fuck me, then why am I standing here in my panties—my now very damp panties.

“Definitely later.”

I dart out my tongue and wet my lip, and my whole body begins to tremble.

He slides his hands a little lower and grabs onto my hips. “Why are you so nervous, Alana?”

“Probably because you want me to be?”

Another sharp bark of laughter. Then he hooks his fingers under the seam of my panties at the top of my thighs and pulls hard, shredding the fabric in his hands.

“You’re a panty fiend,” I say with as much indignation as I can muster.

“Yes, I am. Yet you thought it would be funny to phone me at work and tell me you were wandering around downtown LA with no panties on. Knowing exactly what that would do to me.”

I wrinkle my nose, trying to look adorable. “It was kind of funny though.”

He taps the desk behind me. “Sit here.”

I sit my ass on the cool wood, and as soon as I’m seated, he grabs my ankles and plants my feet on the armrests of his chair on either side of him, forcing me to lean back on my elbows for balance. And now I’m completely spread open for him.

He groans. “Such a pretty fucking sight. Look how wet you are for me already, Alana. All I’ve thought about for the past four hours has been burying my face in this pussy.”

I moan, aware of the pleasure this man can bring with his mouth. “So you’re not angry with me?”

“Angry? After you sent me that beautiful picture? Why the hell would I be angry?”

Because I can never guess what you’re thinking, I think but don’t say. I’m pretty sure he enjoys that particular dynamic between us. Where I’m always a little on my back foot. He’s a man who thrives on control.

He wheels his chair forward and wraps his forearms around the backs of my thighs. Then he dips his head between my legs, but his eyes don’t leave mine, holding me captive. “Have you guessed what I like to do for fun yet?”

Heat creeps up my neck. “Eating pussy?” I say, still not accustomed to using that kind of language. But I do love him using it, and he always seems to enjoy when I reciprocate.

“Exactamente.” His warm breath dances over my wet center, and he licks a path from my opening to my clit. He repeats this over and over, until I’m squirming on his desk and moaning his name. When I’m close to the edge, he settles his delicious mouth over my clit and sucks softly.

Euphoria rolls through me in long delicious waves as he devours me, his eyes closed and a look of pure bliss on his face. He enjoys this as much as I do. For a man who’s built a reputation for being a cruel, heartless devil, he’s incredibly unselfish when it comes to sex.

He catches me looking at him, and his dark eyes narrow. I’m unable to look away as he brings me closer and closer to that edge.

A violent shudder rockets through my body, and ecstasy lights up every nerve ending I have. I throw my head back, a strangled cry ripping from my throat, before I sink flat to the desk, my bones melting into the mahogany. My devil of a husband coaxes the final tremors from my body with his expert tongue.