Page 49 of The Stalking King

He kicks the door open and lowers me onto the bed. I smile as I stare up at him, tall and wide and powerful, his chest rising and falling like a wild thing. He groans and guides me up, then lifts my dress over my head.

Cool air pricks my skin. Self-consciousness tries to touch me. It’s been so long… but then I see that look in his eyes. He kneels at the edge of the bed, unclasps my bra, then groans loudly like he’s been waiting for this.

He has. He watched me.

With the lust burning through me, I can’t be mad. It makes me even hotter.

He sucks on my nipples, pushing my breasts together. I stare down at his steel-black hair, my heart pounding. My core is aching, ready for him.

He smooths his hand down and tugs at my underwear. Soon, I’m naked for him. He stands, staring at me, mouth open in awe.

“Fuck,” he snarls. “Fuck. Look at you. Perfect.”

“Your turn,” I whisper.

He smirks. “You’re not in charge here, remember?”

A thrill runs through me at his words.

“Move up the bed,” he says, dark eyes fixed on me.

I wriggle up to the headboard, he picks up my bra and walks around the side of the bed. There’s something hot about the fact I’m undressed, and he’s not, as though he can do anything he wants.

“Arms up,” he says.

“Why?” I ask.

He leans down and sucks on one of my nipples again. At the same time, he slips his hand between my legs. He groans with excitement and desire. I’ve never felt so wanted.

His hand rubs up and down my core, smearing the wetness. My hips buck into action. I’m letting go, releasing control in a way I never have before. Sinking into this moment, into him, into us.

He pushes down on my clit with two fingers, massaging up and down and side to side. The heat is already building inside of me.

“Because I told you to,” he says huskily.

I raise my arms, and he gently wraps my bra around my wrists, fixing them to the bed railing. It’s for show though, for fun, an exquisite imitation of danger. I could pull free anytime I wanted.

But I don’t want to.

He moves to the end of the bed. Strokes his hand up and down the bulge in his pants.

“Maksim,” I moan, wriggling my legs together.

“I need to remember this,” he snarls. “Tattoo it onto my mind. You, so slick and ready, your thighs glimmering, those eyes desperate and needy.”

“Maksim,” I say, breathless now.

He waits just a moment longer, drawing out the anticipation until finally he tears at his clothes. Shrugs off his jacket, pulls at his shirt so that buttons pop. His body is huge, covered in hard lines and ridges. He yanks down his pants and underwear.

My mouth falls open when I see the size of him, thick and long with precome clinging to his tip.

He climbs onto the bed, on his front, his warm breath whispering over my sex, tickling my clit and entrance. His hands grip my thighs as he pushes them apart. He groans like he’s getting more pleasure from this than I am, his tongue sliding up and down, from my entrance to my clit and back again.

I writhe, my hands fixed above my head, staring down at his hulking body, all his attention fixed on me.

He reaches up, massaging my breasts with one hand, then moves his finger to my tunnel as he sucks and licks my clit. The heat has turned into an inferno, and I’m burning everywhere. Every nerve is bursting with the force of it.

“Oh, yes,” he growls.