The Fearless King (The Kings #2)(40)

This time, he didn’t hesitate. He took her mouth, shifting his grip to bracket the front of her throat, guiding her to the angle he desired. His body caged her without crushing her, taking what he wanted even as he created space for her to kiss him back. Somehow holding her down and lifting her up at the exact same time.

She’d never felt more free.

Yes. This. She pushed up on her toes and surrendered everything. Right then, in that moment, she was safe. Frank would fuck every thought from her head. He would leave marks on her body to remember him by, but he wouldn’t harm her. She wanted everything he’d give her.

Everything and more.

He let go of her waist to yank her dress up so he could cup her from behind, his hand sliding roughly down the center of her ass to push two fingers into her pussy. She jumped and then moaned, pushing back against the intrusion, trying to take him deeper. He turned them without missing a beat and half walked, half carried her backward to the bed. Frank lifted his head enough to say, “I make a wrong move, you let me know.”

It was more command than question, but she was already nodding. “Don’t stop.”

He withdrew his fingers, but before she could mourn the loss, he pulled her dress off and tossed it over his shoulder. Her bra and panties followed, leaving her naked and him fully clothed. She froze, but he was already moving, using a hand on the center of her chest to guide her back onto the bed. “Leave the shoes on.”

She propped herself onto her elbows and watched him strip, each move as efficient as everything he seemed to do. The suit jacket was draped over the desk chair, followed by the tie. “I want to see.”

He turned to face her as he unbuttoned the dove gray shirt, revealing an intoxicating slice of dark brown skin and a muscled chest that spoke of serious control and countless hours in the gym. “God, Frank, you’re sexy as fuck.”

“The fact you can say that while looking like you do right now…” A muscle twitched in his jaw, and his dark eyes went scorching hot. “Spread your legs for me, Duchess. Let me see how much you need what I’m going to give you.”

She obeyed immediately, scooting back onto the mattress enough that she could prop her heels on the edge of it, giving him exactly what he’d commanded. Journey watched him through half-closed eyes as she ran her hands over her breasts, pausing to pinch her nipples, and then down to stroke her thighs.

His movements lost their fluidity and he yanked off his pants quickly enough that she was worried he’d popped a button somewhere, but then nothing mattered because he stood before her, gloriously naked. He produced a condom from somewhere and rolled it on quickly. Anticipation coursed through her, molten and wicked and needy. “I don’t want to wait any more.”

“Tough shit.” He hit his knees in front of her and grasped her thighs in the exact same place he had in his office. His fingers dug into the muscle, the instant ache drawing a gasp from her lips. Then his mouth was on her pussy, kissing her thoroughly. He claimed her, alternating between fucking her with his tongue and giving her little nips that made her nerve endings spark in response. Through it all, he kept a viselike grip on her thighs, anchoring her in this moment, in this hotel room, with him.

She reached down and clasped his wrists as he sucked on her clit, working her with his tongue and just the slightest edge of his teeth. Somehow he knew exactly what she needed, exactly where to draw the line to keep it from being too much. Pleasure and pain coiled inside her, intrinsically linked until she didn’t know which was which. “Frank, oh fuck, Frank.”

He didn’t stop, didn’t slow down, didn’t do anything but continue the delicious assault with his mouth. There was no teasing, just the full-throttle rush toward the orgasm looming through her entire body. It hit her between one breath and the next, bowing her back and curling her toes in her shoes, drawing his name from her lips, though whether it was benediction or curse was beyond her.

She barely had a chance to release his wrists when he flipped her onto her stomach. The mattress dipped beneath his weight, and his thighs roughly pushed hers wider. He covered her with his body, his chest solid against her back. It felt so good, she moaned. He drew her hair aside and kissed the back of her neck as he reached between them and positioned his cock at her entrance. “We good?”

“Don’t you dare stop,” she gasped.

He set his teeth against the back of her neck as he shoved into her to the hilt. She whimpered even as she tried to take him deeper, to have him fill her even more, until he chased away the empty spots lurking in her soul. Frank caught her wrists and pinned them to the bed as he leveraged himself back to withdraw and slam into her again. His rough breathing was direct counterpoint to hers, the only other sound in the room the rough contact of flesh against flesh.

She loved every second of it.

“We’re not done yet, Duchess.” He released one hand and then he was against her back again, bearing her down even as he slid a hand between her thighs to pinch her clit. “I’ve been imaging how good it would feel to have you coming on my cock since that night at Cocoa’s. You know the one.”

She knew. It was the first indication she’d gotten that Frank had fire barely banked beneath that cold and perfect exterior—and that it might be aimed right at her. “I know.”

“Thought you might.” His strokes became rougher, less controlled. “I’ve had the taste of you on my tongue ever since I licked you through those fucking panties on my office floor. Every time I’ve jacked myself since then, I picture ripping those fucking things off and sinking between your thighs just like I am now.” He bit the spot where her neck met her shoulder, and it was too much on top of everything else.