“I’m going to cum,” he says, gripping my hair hard enough to make tears fill my eyes again. “Can you swallow for me,piccola mia?”
I bob my head in a nod, feeling naughty at his blunt words, but in a good way, one I didn’t know I could feel. I inhale, filling myself with the scent of him, noticing the hardness of his muscular thighs as he thrusts deep into my throat. I force my throat not to constrict, fighting the urge to choke as he fucks my mouth hard for a minute, his cock battering my throat like it did the last time. Reaching between his thighs, I cup his balls again, now swollen and hardened, and give them a little squeeze.
He curses quietly, but before I know if that was a good or bad thing, his hips jerk forward and his big hand cups the back of my head. His vein throbs against my lower lip, and the next second, salty cream explodes into my mouth and down my throat. I choke, tears streaming from my eyes, liquid dripping from the corners of my mouth.
“Keep it open for me,carina,” he growls, stroking my hair as his cock pulses more into me, spasms wracking his body every few seconds. He doesn’t move, though, which gives me time to swallow what I can and relax my throat again.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks, wiping my tears with his thumb.
I shake my head, swallowing past the ache he left in my bruised throat. I don’t care if I’m a little sore. I feel… Triumphant. He wants me,desiresme, so much, it makes me feel almost high. I may be kneeling at his feet with my mouth around his cock, but I don’t feel degraded. I also don’t feel like I’m trapped, the way I felt after orgasm. I feel… Free.
At last, he pulls back, gripping the base of his cock and slowly dragging it over my tongue until he reaches my lips. “Suck out those last drops,” he croons, stroking my cheek with the back of his other hand.
A naughty thrill goes through me. I love that he’s so… Dirty. He’s a mess of contradictions—tender yet nasty-mouthed, considerate yet dominating, gentle but forceful.
My throat aches, but I obey, giving his cock a little suck. He draws a sharp breath, spasms going through his body every few seconds for another minute. I keep going until he draws away. At last, he grabs me under the arms, lifting me to my feet and laying me down on the bed.
“I’m going to get you jewelry for that one,” he says with a grin, kissing my salty lips.
“Speaking of,” I say, tracing a finger down his chest. “I sort of flushed your wedding ring. So we’re going to need to get another one of those.”
“Naughty girl,” he says, giving my ass a playful swat. “I was wondering what happened to that.”
“How long did it take to clean up the apartment?” I ask.
“Not too long,” he says, cracking a grin. “Since I know how to hire cleaners…”
“Jerk,” I say, but I throw my leg over him.
He runs his hand up my thigh and palms my ass. “At least you left the utensils alone. One of the soup spoons is very special to me.”
“King,” I scold, burying my face in his chest.
He slides his hand between my thighs and starts to stroke me, sending tingles through me as he fingers the fabric, now damp from my arousal during the blowjob. “If that’s the only way I get to taste you, you better get ready for it to be inside you regularly,” he says. “But tonight, I’ll be content with licking you off my fingers. Now open your legs and let feel that pretty cunt fill my hand with your sweet cum.”
twenty-seven
Eliza
“What’s wrong?” I ask King, sliding a hand over his cheek. He’s lying on the bed staring at the ceiling, the same as he’s done for the past three nights. I don’t think the guy ever sleeps.
He gives me a distracted smile and covers my hand with his. “Nothing.”
“Talk to me,” I plead, snuggling up next to him. “You can tell me anything.”
“It’s not you,” he says. “It’s just… Work stuff. The less you know about that, the better.”
“King,” I say. “I know all about your job, the families, the Life. I know you want to protect me, but you don’t have to do that.”
“But I want to,” he says, turning his face toward me. “I’m your husband. It’s my job to protect you. And I couldn’t do that when you needed it most.”
“You didn’t even know me then,” I point out.
“I knew you when I hurt you,” he says quietly.
“I’ve forgiven you,” I say. “And I know about this stuff, King. I’m not fragile or helpless. I’m an asset. Have you ever thought that’s why Al picked you?”
“I want to do something for you now,” he says. “She should pay for what she did.”