The King (The Original Sinners: White Years, #2)(101)

“Kiss again.”

He started to stand but felt Felicia’s hand on his head. She stoked his hair, his cheek, his lips.

“Not my mouth.”

Kingsley paused long enough for her to know he was following her orders with the most extreme reluctance. He reached out with one hand until he felt her bare foot, her bare toes. He dropped a kiss on to the top of each of her feet. “Ankles,” she said. Ankles he kissed.

“Calves,” she said. Calves he kissed.

Thighs. Hips. Stomach. Mistress Felicia was obviously naked, and he wasn’t complaining. Breasts. Nipples. Neck. He was so hard now it hurt. Left shoulder. Right shoulder. Left wrist. Right wrist. If she didn’t let him f*ck her soon, he would not be held responsible for his actions.

“One more kiss for now,” she said, and he felt something against his lips. The back of her hand. He pressed a kiss into her skin, and her hand shivered in his. Nice to know she was as eager for him as he was for her. He needed this day with Felicia. He needed her desire for him. He needed her attraction to him that she did nothing to hide. He adored Sam to the point it made his stomach hurt when he held her in his arms, but those nights in his bed holding her while they slept but doing nothing more were hard on his pride. And right now his pride was unbearably hard.

“Now I’m going to hide,” Felicia explained. “And you’ll have two minutes to find me. If you find me in that time, you can do anything you want to me for the next hour. If you don’t find me in two minutes, I get to do whatever I want to you for the next hour. And you’re not going to like it.”

Kingsley’s breath hitched in his throat. He had to have this woman—not two minutes from now, but two minutes ago.

“I’ll start the countdown,” she said from what sounded like twenty feet away. “Three….” Her voice receded. “Two…” Her voice grew ever fainter.

While waiting for the “one,” Kingsley focused on his hearing. She’d led him down the hallway to the entryway of her home. Felicia had rugs all over her hardwood f loors, but they still creaked ever so slightly when she walked. He searched for the sound of her movement. Left? At his left was her living room. Right? Right would take her either up the stairs or into a coat closet. Would she run to the closet? Hide in a bathroom? Slip behind a door?

When she said “one” he barely heard it. He came to his feet immediately, took a single step forward and found her arms around him. She ripped off the blindfold and grinned.

“I wanted you to win,” she whispered.

Kingsley shoved her against the wall and devoured her mouth with kisses. She pushed her hips into his as his hands found her breasts. This was exactly what he wanted—this warm, beautiful woman wrapped all around him. He brought them both down to the rug. The front door stood five feet away. He almost hoped someone would walk in and see them coupling right on the f loor of her entryway.

She made no protest as he pushed her thighs wide and opened her up with his fingers. He licked her, lapped at her, sucked her clitoris until she panted and squirmed underneath him. Nothing turned him on quite like making such a dominant and powerful woman lose control of herself in desire for him. She pumped her hips against his mouth and clutched his shoulders in need. Her dark hair spilled over the f loor. He’d rarely seen a sight so erotic as her naked body lost in lust writhing beneath him on the f loor.

Since she’d made him wait, he would take his time, although it killed him not to slam into her right this second. Instead, he pushed a finger inside her. Then two. Then three. He rubbed circles into her g-spot until she arched off the f loor and groaned his name. He f*cked her with his fingers, setting up a rhythm until Felicia panted in time to his movements. Then he turned his hand, pushed hard against the back wall of her vagina and was rewarded with her gasp of shock and pleasure. She said his name again, moaned it, breathed it, begged it. He needed to f*ck her and f*ck her now. She’d given him the entire hour to do whatever he liked to her and with her. He’d have her this second and then would take his time with her. She had a large vibrator in her bedroom he’d use on her to force her to climax until she begged him to stop. But now he needed to be inside her.

He opened his pants, pulled off his shirt and put on a condom from his wallet in a matter of seconds. Then he grasped her by the knees, dragged her to him, letting the rug chafe her bare back. So what if it hurt her? Pain was their favorite toy.

With one smooth thrust he entered her, and she welcomed all of him inside her. She dug her heels into the rug and pushed up as he pushed in, meeting at the middle with a shared grunt of need. She twined her arms around his neck, her long legs around his lower back, and took his every thrust. He grasped her hair and forced her head back. He kissed the hollow of her throat, bit her lips and told her in no uncertain terms what he planned to do to her as soon as he’d come.

He pulled out and ordered her on to her hands and knees.

“You should have expected this after making me crawl,” he said as he entered her from behind. She didn’t argue, didn’t protest. Instead, she reached one hand under her body and between her legs and let her fingertips caress him as he moved in and out of her. He grew slick with her wetness, and her body opened up until he could bottom out in her. Her fingers moved from him to her clitoris. As she stroked herself, he clutched her shoulders, riding her with growing urgency. When she came, he felt her muscles clamping around him, f luttering and shuddering. With a few more long slow strokes he came, too, a cry of triumph and release escaping his lips.