Page 47 of LA King

I lean my head against his shoulder and close my eyes, giving into the pleasure of him working me over with his skilled fingers. He grinds the heel of his palm against my clit while he buries his fingers in me, reaching for that sweet spot deep inside and rubbing on it over and over until I feel like I’m losing my mind.

“Please, Alex,” I whisper against his shirt.

“Look at me,” he commands, and I find myself staring into his beautiful brown eyes. He seals his lips over mine, and my whole body pulses with pleasure. He keeps me teetering on the edge for what feels like an eternity. I whimper into his mouth, wild with need. Taking pity on me, he increases his pace and gives my clit a hard press with the heel of his palm, and I come apart around him.

“Alex!” I cry as my orgasm tears through my body. Only after I’ve ridden the last wave of my orgasm does he remove his hand from under my dress.

“I do love some cream with my morning coffee,” he says with a wicked grin. Then he places the two fingers in his mouth and sucks them clean.

Alejandro and I spent a lazy morning eating breakfast, reading newspapers, and sitting in the garden. I changed into my bikini half an hour ago and am doing a few laps of the pool when I hear a huge splash behind me.

I spin around to see him swimming toward me, his beautiful, muscular body gliding effortlessly through the water. The fire in his eyes suggests he’s only in the mood for one thing. A quick glance at his naked body below the water confirms my suspicions.

I offer him a quick grin before turning and swimming away as quickly as I can. He’s too fast for me though, and I’ve barely reached the side when he grabs me by the waist.

“Are you trying to run away from me, princesa?” He nips my shoulder blade.

I laugh and wriggle in his grip until he cages me with his strong arms and presses his hard body into mine. He kisses me so fiercely that I struggle for breath, and his hands slip below the waterline where he takes hold of the ties on either side of my bikini bottoms.

“Alex,” I gasp, aware of exactly what he’s about to do. “Someone might see us.” I swat at his hands, but he tugs on the fabric, and the flimsy material gives way easily. Grinning, he throws the bottom half of my bikini out of the pool, far out of my reach.

“They won’t. So stop resisting me and let me inside you. Unless you’re too sore?”

“Not too sore, no.” I’m tender, but that’s not why I’m resistant. He nudges my legs apart with his knee. “How many women have you had sex with in this pool?” I ask.

He sucks on his top lip as though he’s considering his answer while also looking downright edible. “None,” he finally says as he forces my legs wider and settles himself between my thighs.

“Not even one?” I find that hard to believe. Alejandro Montoya is well-known for his love of women—many women.

Water flies from his hair when he shakes his head. “I never brought any women to the house.”

“Where’d you take them?”

“My hotel.”

“Why didn’t you ever bring them here?” This house is beautiful and stylish and quite impressive. But then, I suppose the penthouse suite of one of LA’s finest hotels is too. I haven’t been invited there yet and wonder if I ever will be. I push away that hurt and focus on the fact that we’re here together now. He took the day off to spend with me, even if he won’t openly admit it.

“This is my home. This isn’t for the women who came before you. It would have been far too personal. Now stop talking or I’ll put that beautiful mouth of yours to much better use.”

“We can’t do that. You have staff everywhere,” I remind him, glancing around the garden. “Not to mention security cameras.”

“I turned the cameras off earlier, and I gave most of the staff a day off. Jacob is on the front gate, and there are three men patrolling the perimeter. Nobody will come anywhere near us.”

I arch an eyebrow. “Why did you give everyone the day off?”

He runs his teeth along my jawline, and goosebumps prickle out over my skin. “Because I want to fuck my wife in every room and on every surface of this house.”

His words sink deep into my core, making wet heat pool between my thighs. I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist as he presses his rock-hard cock against my opening. “I like it when you call me your wife,” I purr in his ear.

He plants kisses along my throat. “Do you?”

“Yes. It’s a nice change from princesa.”

He pulls back. “You don’t like princesa?”

“Well, it’s not really a term of endearment, is it? You call me princesa because you incorrectly assumed I was a spoiled daddy’s girl.”

He hums and resumes kissing my neck. “You are a spoiled princesa though. But you’re my spoiled princesa now.”