King's Reign (Sydney Storm MC #6)(40)
“Good. And what about Linc? Is he still being a dick?”
I headed out of the kitchen to walk into my bathroom and get the bath started. “Yeah. I figure he’s gonna be a dick until old age and then some. I’ve decided to ignore his bullshit. Especially since I’m trying to quit smoking again. That’s hard enough to do without having to also be thinking about Linc.”
She chuckled. “How many times are you up to now?”
Sitting on the edge of the bath, I flicked the taps on. “Shut up and don’t be mean to me.”
This was an old argument between us, and Addy never let up about it. She knew I was way into double digits on this. She also knew my attempts were only half-assed, because smoking was something I really didn’t want to give up. I knew I had to, and the smart side of my brain knew I was a freaking idiot for not having made more of an effort, but what was hard to explain to someone like Adelaide, who’d never smoked, was the enjoyment I got from it. That first drag of a cigarette was like the first hit of caffeine in the morning or the first bite into a warm, fresh doughnut. It made me smile and it helped take the edge off from all the stress and pressure I felt being pulled in a hundred directions between work and family. I liked smoking. And who wants to stop doing something they love? That was the switch in my brain I had to flip, but I knew that would only happen when I was ready and wanted to. I also knew that until then, I’d have to put up with Addy giving me a hard time.
“You know I’m never gonna shut up about this, Lily. I want you by my side in the nursing home, and I worry you won’t be around for that if you keep smoking.”
“I know, babe.”
“Okay, enough of that tonight. Go have your bath. Get your meditation on. I’ll call you tomorrow to see how you’re going. Love you, girl.”
“I love you, too. Talk to you tomorrow.”
After the call ended, I lit the candles in my bathroom, set my phone up with my guided meditation open on my Spotify app, and stripped. Five minutes later, I was immersed in the warm water, hair up in a messy bun, eyes closed, meditating.
Perfect.
I chose a forty-minute meditation, and it was almost finished when a text came through from King.
King: I’m letting myself in.
I smiled. Mostly because he was here, but also because it appeared he realised I would freak out if I heard a sound I wasn’t expecting. Closing my eyes again, I listened to the last few minutes of the meditation. When I opened my eyes again, King stood resting against the doorjamb, arms crossed, watching me.
“Hey, you,” I said, not shifting from under the water. It was warm and cosy in the bath, and I wasn’t ready to get out yet. Not even for King.
He didn’t speak, but rather moved to the bath and sat on the side of it. As he watched me, I took in the fierce energy blaring from him. From the hard set of his shoulders to his tight jaw, to his eyes that flashed with a storm of emotion, King was wound up. On edge. And from previous experience, I knew that when he turned up like this, he wanted the kind of sex that would wear me out in the very best ways.
Shifting his attention to my body, he dipped his hand into the water and found my stomach. As he reached down to my pussy, a low growl came from him, and when he pushed two fingers inside me, he met my gaze again and held it steady while finger-fucking me.
Arching my back, I bit my lip and closed my eyes. His touch relaxed me in ways no meditation could, but at the same time, it excited me to the point where I couldn’t get enough from him. With King, I wanted him to hurry the hell up and make me come already while also wanting him to take his sweet time and send me over the edge in a complete and utter mess of bewilderment and frantic need.
“Lily,” he rasped, “Give me your eyes.”
They fluttered open, and I gave him what he wanted, which he liked, because it caused him to reach deeper inside me and work me harder. His strokes were demanding, and with each one, the heat between us intensified.
He bent forward and curled his free hand around my neck. Fingers digging in hard, he pulled me to him and kissed me. It was savage, and while mostly it pushed me into a desperate state of need, I wondered at the back of my mind, what caused him to become so fiercely aroused.
He ended the kiss, but he didn’t let my mouth go fully. His teeth nipped at my bottom lip while his fingers continued fucking me, and he growled, “It doesn’t fucking matter how often I have you, I can’t fucking get enough. Your cunt, your body”—he bit my lip harder—“this mouth… You’re in my head twenty-four-fucking-seven.”
I couldn’t stop myself. I moved without thought, just feeling. Pure need. It was like a frenzy of arms, legs, and water as I scrambled to my knees so I could take hold of his face and kiss him. I didn’t even care how uncomfortable it was to be in this position; I needed King’s mouth on mine, his face to mine, his breath in me. I needed to get closer to the core of him, to his soul, and right now the only way I knew how to do that was to kiss the hell out of him.
I may have started this kiss, but he took charge of it. His tongue became as demanding as his fingers had been inside me. I wasn’t sure I’d ever kissed anyone the way I kissed King. It was like we were forcing each other to go deeper, to give more. It was hard and rough and violent. Neither of us wanted it to end; we just kept pushing for every last piece the other had to give. When he finally tore his mouth from mine, his eyes flashed with a level of desire I’d never seen in a man. And when he scooped me into his arms and carried me into my bedroom, I craved him in ways I’d never imagined possible.