Just a King: A Secret Romance, page 6
Kingston kisses my navel. “A man could get used to this view,” he says.
I bite my lip, too tired to respond. I simply quiver in place, touching him as he touches me. He travels up my body, leaving a trail of kisses all the way to my neck. I lean into him, turning onto my side to face him and steal as much of his kiss as I can. He welcomes it, pulling me closer as I flick the buttons on his shirt.
“That feel good?” he asks.
I laugh. “Yes,” I say, finally finding words on my tongue.
“How good?”
I think as he kisses my neck again. “Like strawberry ice cream,” I say.
He raises his head, intrigued. “Strawberry ice cream?”
“When you live half of your life under a microscope, every choice you make means something,” I explain. “As a kid, my father would only let me have vanilla ice cream. Chocolate was too messy. Swirl was too suggestive. Vanilla was… well, vanilla. Wouldn’t even let me lick it out of a cone in case someone snapped a picture. Always in a bowl with a spoon.” I shake my head. “All I ever wanted was to try strawberry ice cream. He said no. It was too sweet.”
His thumb grazes my cheek. “Did you ever get any?”
I look up as he touches my bottom lip. “Eventually.”
He pushes his thumb into my mouth. “Good,” he whispers.
I taste his knuckles, relishing in the lewd gesture as I suck on his thumb. His lips curl and his chest shudders as another burst of lust fills his eyes. His thumb quickly abandons my mouth and he rests his hand on the back of my neck, pulling me in for a hard kiss. With closed eyes, I loosen his belt between us and un-tuck his shirt, wanting so much more of him. Whether it be a sincere drive to please Kingston or some twisted satisfaction in displeasing my father, I’ll never know. I don’t really care.
I just want more.
I let my anticipation boil beneath my skin as I slowly pluck his shirt buttons open. I break our kiss to get a good look at him, biting my lip hard as I admire his athletic chest.
“What did you play?” I ask him.
Kingston blinks, his blood obviously somewhere other than his brain. “Play?” he repeats.
I touch his pecs, crawling down to his abs. “Football? Baseball?”
He smirks. “Lacrosse.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course.”
“It wasn’t my idea,” he says as he kisses my shoulder. “In fact, I faked an injury to get out of playing my senior year.”
“What did you want to do instead?”
He raises a brow as he glances around the bed. “This, mostly…”
“Run hotels?” I quip.
His fingers curl around my hair with a smirk on his mouth. “You are a tease, Fiona Garland,” he growls.
I laugh as I draw a line through his happy trail and pinch his zipper. “Ice cream is always best if you let it drip for a few minutes first,” I say.
Kingston squints and loosens his grip.
I push the zipper down and reach in to claim my prize. He gasps against my lips as I stroke his shaft. My tongue taps the roof of my mouth with an animalistic urge I’ve never felt before. My body starts to throb all over again at the mere thought of sticking his cock in my mouth.
I grab his pants. Kingston shifts to help me pull them off. I bite my lip in surprise at the size of him. I knew he was large; I could feel him down in the laundry room, but it’s another thing entirely to see him up close.
Kingston cups my face and draws me in for a deep kiss. Comfort washes over me and I fall a little more for him. I want even more of him. I need him.
He sits up as I move onto my knees beside him, his hand gently curling my hair and guiding my mouth to his cock. I let him move me, not at all bothered by the power in his grip. I want him to use my mouth. I need him to.
I lick his tip, tasting little beads of pre-cum on his crown. My tongue bursts with saliva and I can’t help but take even more of him into my mouth.
Kingston’s breath quickens. He responds with a tighter grip, but he doesn’t push me down. Instead, he just gives me a few gentle tugs to remind me he’s there. To remind me who I belong to. Lust takes me over and I bob my head with tight lips and concave cheeks.
Kingston inhales sharply, spurring me further as more pleasure sounds fall from his throat. “Just like that,” he says. “Good girl…”
His hand caresses my ass. I moan around his cock as his fingers trail along my crack. Just when I feel him inching in toward my wetness, he stops and moves up again. I suck him harder in frustration, begging and pleading for him to touch me where I’m throbbing for it.
He chuckles over me, sensing my desperation. “You want me inside of you?” he asks. “Is that it?”
I moan once, swirling my tongue around his tip. He moves his fingers down again, this time slipping one between my swollen, pink folds.
“Here?” he asks, barely touching my entrance.
I pull him out of my mouth to catch my breath and answer, “Yes!”
Kingston grabs my elbow and pulls me up, easily tossing me down onto my back. He hovers over me with wide eyes and, for a second, I think he might put me out of my misery here and now.
Take me, I told him.
I might never give you back, he said.
It seemed a clever joke before, but now I see it for the truth it really was. He tried to warn me. I didn’t listen. If I could go back and make a different choice…
No. I’d still be here. Naked and open for him.
Kingston turns toward the bedside table and throws the drawer open. I can’t see what he’s doing until he turns back and rolls the condom onto his pulsating cock. He’s on me in a second, forcing our bodies into alignment. I quickly raise one leg to rest on his shoulder. He growls with lust as he nibbles my thigh.
He rubs his cock against my clit, sending ripples of pleasure up my spine. I nearly burst from the pain. I want him inside so badly, but if I scream now, the people of Vegas would surely hear it.
Again, Kingston teases me. He slowly moves his cock toward my hole and backs off at the last moment to bump my clit again with a devious smile on his face. My body quivers from the beautiful agony of it. I dig my nails into the mattress’ edge. I bite my lip until I taste blood. I hate him so much I love it.
“Kingston,” I beg. “Please.”
He kisses my inner calf. His eyes wander my body. I see them peering back at me again like an animal in heat. I can do nothing but lie back and wait to be his prey.
There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
Kingston finally enters me, and I fall to pieces. One simple thrust fills me and finishes me so perfectly. I feel his body above mine, his cock pounding me against the bed as he holds me down with both hands.
My second orgasm happens so fast I barely have time to process it. My words dissolve and my pussy clenches around him. At that moment, I cease to be anything but this. I’m no longer Fiona Garland, the Senator’s daughter. I’m Fiona Garland, Kingston’s secret claim.
My thigh quivers so sharply it slips off Kingston’s shoulder. He takes hold of it and moves it to his side so he can lower down and kiss me. His thrusts come slower as he massages my lips with his. I cling to his strong body to hold myself together.
“Are you all right?” he whispers.
I nod. “Don’t stop.”
We kiss again, but he maintains his pace.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says, his warm breath on my cheek. “Fuck, I don’t want you to leave.”
I cup his face, holding him close for another deep kiss. “I’m here now,” I say. “We’ve got all night.”
He stops deep inside of me and kisses me back. I’m not sure if I said it more to comfort him or myself but, either way, we both pause to bask in the warmth of the words.
All night. Just a few hours on paper but each minute is so full of possibility.
“Don’t stop, Kingston,” I say again.
“Oh, I’m not,” he says with a smile. “I’m just enjoying the view.”
“Me or that one?” I joke, glancing out the open window.
He pinches my chin and makes me look at him. “All the lights in Vegas don’t compare to this one,” he whispers before planting a kiss on the end of my nose.
I feel the blood rush to my cheeks. It burns, everything burns, but the only way I can think to save myself is to let it consume me completely.
We entwine our fingers together. Kingston pins my arm down above my head and braces himself on his knees before thrusting me once, twice. Again and again. Fire sparks from my skin to the bone and I scream and laugh in the flames before I even realize what’s happened.
By the time Kingston reaches climax, I know in my heart of hearts what’s changed. This man. This thoughtful, rebellious, and handsome man has stolen my heart in just a few short moments in time. He’s taken what didn’t belong to him, taken what others will no doubt attempt to retrieve.
But I won’t let them.
Even if my father does burn this place to the ground someday, he’ll have to light the match with me inside of it.
Kingston exhales hard, completely spent. I guide his head down to my breast. He rests silently, his breaths coming and going with the gentle beat of my heart. I hope he knows it’s his now. I wonder if I’ll ever have the courage to tell him so.
He slowly shifts onto his side and curls his arms around me to hold me close. We share a few beads of sweat and silent kisses with limbs entwined. Sleep teases us, but we won’t let it in.
This night has only just begun.
10
Kingston
I roll over, drawn to the sudden burst of the shower head turning on in the bathroom.
It’s just a few minutes after sunrise. The dark night sky is now tinged with a desert orange. Buildings reflect the rising sun into the windows, but I’m not bothered by it. I’m already wide awake.
I reach toward the other side of the bed and run my hand along the sheet, smiling as it fades from cool to warm and back again.
Fiona hasn’t been up long.
I plant my feet on the floor. The shower is already off again by the time I reach the bathroom door. I stop in my tracks as Fiona steps out of the shower. They say staring is rude, but I challenge anyone — man or woman — to not be completely spellbound by her.
She pats her arms dry with a towel and bends over to do the same to her legs, seemingly unaware of me gawking at her from the doorway. I hold my breath, hoping not to give myself away. Her hair sits dry and pinned to the crown of her head in a loose bun. She’s washed off all the evidence from last night, from the smeared lipstick on her face to… everything else that might have been on her skin.
Her throat clears.
Fiona looks at me with upturn eyes as she wraps the towel around her torso. “Hope you don’t mind me using your shower,” she says. “I didn’t want to wake you to ask.”
I wave a hand. “Use whatever you need,” I say.
“Thank you.”
I continue toward her as she taps her toes against the bathmat. “When do you leave?” I ask.
“Soon,” she says. “Dad always books the earliest flights he can find, so I need to get moving.”
I nod. “D.C., right?”
“Yes.”
“Where will you be staying?”
“Dad has an apartment for business,” she says.
“Ahh.”
“But… I prefer to stay somewhere off-site,” she adds. “Otherwise I get roped into cleaning the place or being servant girl to other senators when they come back for brandy and cigars.”
I raise a brow. “In that case, I highly recommend the Botsford Plaza. It’s on 22nd Street.”
Fiona smiles. “I know.”
I rest a hand on her cheek, still slightly damp from her shower. Even beneath the harsh bathroom lighting, she’s still the most flawless woman I’ve ever seen. She turns her head to lean into my touch. Her eyes flutter closed. She stands still as if she’s trying to memorize as much of the moment as I am.
Who knows when we’ll get another one like this.
“Thank you,” Fiona says. She looks at me, soft and grateful. “Last night was exactly what I needed. Again.”
“Me, too.”
She looks down and smirks. “Yeah, I figured.”
I follow her gaze and laugh at my erection standing firm and proud between us. “Can you really blame him?” I joke, slipping my hand down to hook her towel. “Just look at you—”
Fiona grips the towel before it falls. “Kingston, no—”
I give it a quick tug. She lets it slip from her fingers with a wide smile on her face. “How’s a man supposed to focus on anything else with you naked in his bathroom?”
I jut forward to scoop her off the floor.
“Kingston—!”
I set her down on the sink to kiss her chuckling lips.
“Kingston,” she warns even though she wraps her legs around my waist. “I have to go…”
I kiss her again, silencing the objection. “You’ll get where you need to go,” I say.
Fiona parts her lips but nothing comes out except for a breathy moan. She takes hold of my sides and slides forward, positioning herself on the edge of the countertop.
My hard cock rests against her mound, perfectly aligned for the taking. I somehow manage to keep it together fast enough to grab a new condom from the drawer beside us. I slide it on and take hold of my cock, rubbing my tip along her wet lips and drawing another moan from her throat. Each new tease brings us closer and I’m almost ready to burst by the time I finally push my tip inside of her.
“Kingston,” Fiona gasps, her voice smothered by her heated breaths.
I curl an arm around her, holding her in place while my hips do the work. I fuck her hard and fast with her feet digging into my sides and her nails clawing my back. Moans spill off our tongues, blending and echoing throughout the steam-filled room.
I rest my head on her shoulder with closed eyes, losing myself in the moment the same way she did before. I think to commit every detail of her tight body to memory, but I quickly throw that sentiment away. To hell with never having this again.
I’ve found my queen.
I pause the instant the thought teases my mind. My thrusts slow and my breathing labors. I repeat in my head to see if it feels as right the second time. It radiates with even more truth than before.
Fiona Garland is my queen.
“Kingston?” She looks at me, her face a tortured mix of passion and concern. “What is it?”
I don’t answer. I kiss her again, harder than before. I pull her toward me, closer than before. I thrust in and out, faster than before.
And Fiona moans louder. Her voice vibrates the inside of my mouth as I take her. She throws her head back, resting it on the mirror as she takes every single inch of me over and over again. She clenches the counter. She squeezes me on the inside. I feel her nearing climax, easily tuning into every flash of body language she offers me. I meet her at the finish line, the tension in my loins threatening to tear me in two.
Fiona comes first. I relish in the wet deluge that coats my shaft and thighs. Her legs quiver wildly around me. I hold her close as the rest of her threatens to lose control.
I thrust home again and stay there, enjoying the wild thrill of coming with Fiona Garland. My cock pulsates between her folds, pumping out every drop of whatever I happen to have left in me after last night. It nearly hurts, to be honest, but it’s a pain I’ll gladly endure until it kills me.
We stare into each other’s eyes as we try and catch our breaths. My mind flashes with premonitions and desires I’ve never once had about a woman before. Picking out the perfect apartment. Getting down on one knee. Carrying her over the threshold of the honeymoon suite and ripping that white dress off her body. Holding her hand in the delivery room as she gives birth to my children.
Fiona cups my face and kisses me twice on the lips. She smiles and rolls her big eyes as she gently lowers her stiff legs down. “You’re never going to let me go, are you?” she asks.
It’s a harmless quip, of course. She means this suite, this very room on this very morning.
But as I shake my head and smile, I mean it with every part of my heart and soul when I say, “No.”
11
Fiona
Three Weeks Later
Smile.
And smile.
And smile some more.
One more week until the election. One more week of traveling around Nevada trying to squeeze out the last few votes from the undecideds. Then, my father will settle back into his usual routine as a United States Senator. I’ll be free to continue my studies, just like he promised when he talked me into taking this year off to help him campaign.
He gave me his word. That should mean something, right?
Yeah. I thought so, too.
After the little talking-to he gave me at the mayor’s party three weeks ago, our town car started to feel a little… cramped. Roland was suddenly everywhere. Even more so than he usually was. He and my father began openly discussing the future, along with each and every step of their plan to put Roland in the House of Representatives in two years. A full endorsement from my father will admittedly go a long way. Roland’s resume and experience make him a shoo-in for the job itself, which is exactly what fills my gut with dread.
It’ll be me standing up there beside him when he does it.
They haven’t come right out and said it yet, but I’m no fool. I can read between the lines. I’ll be sitting exactly where I am now, front row center at the debates. Roland will be where my father is, spouting campaign promises and patriotic epitaphs, and I’ll be here.
Smiling.
Though, I wonder…
Do they have any idea who I’m really smiling about instead?
As soon as my father finishes his closing remarks (a speech I have memorized from helping him rehearse it a hundred times), I rise out of my seat and lead the round of applause in his honor. The television camera pivots in my direction. I lock into a perfect posture.
