Just a King: A Secret Romance, page 8
Then, I slide him inside. We both exhale with new pleasure. He lays his hands on my hips and bends his knees for support as I balance on his chest and grind.
“Fuck…” I whisper.
“Don’t stop, baby,” he says. “You feel so good.”
I whimper and mewl, unable to form words. I feel so tight, so full of love and pleasure and Kingston. What words could possibly describe that?
I moan louder instead. My thighs twitch. My core tightens with tension. His hands shift to my breasts and he gently plucks at my hard nipples to make them bud even tighter. The more my hips work, the better it feels. The better I feel, the more I hear him grunt. I fall head over heels in love with pleasing him.
And I don’t want to stop.
He licks his thumb before laying it against my clit. “Come for me, Fiona,” he says, flicking hard. “I want to feel my queen come on my dick.”
I laugh, but the dirty talk mixed with his touch still sends me over. I desperately grab his arms for support. He flexes to hold me as I lose control. The tension breaks and my pussy squeezes around him so tightly he moans with me.
“Fuck…” is all he can say.
I breathe hard. I plant my palms on his chest and shift my movements to continue sliding up and down on his full length.
Kingston watches himself sliding in and out of me with hard, lustful eyes. His fingers dig into my hips. I smile, feeling so very much like his queen.
Who else could bring a king to his knees like this?
“Come for me, Kingston,” I say. “I want to feel my king come inside of me.”
I barely finish the sentence before he groans with release. I keep bouncing slowly on him, driven wild with desire as I feel his cock throbbing deep inside. I pull him out before the end and rub his tip against my clit again, stealing a last kiss of pleasure for myself as the last of his semen spills onto my mound.
I shift off his lap and lie down beside him. His arm instantly curls around me to hold me against his chest. His heart pounds in one ear. The city sounds tickle the other. I wonder how many times we’ll tumble back to this state of rest before the sun rises over Vegas.
After a few quiet minutes, Kingston kisses my forehead. “You sure that was okay?” he asks.
I nod. “I went on the pill after last time.”
“Good,” he whispers as his fingers graze my arm. “Because I really want to do that again…”
“Slow down, big guy,” I tease. “We’ve got all night.”
He takes hold of me and rolls me around onto my back. I happily fall as he smiles and caresses my cheek.
“That’s the hottest thing any woman has ever said to me.”
I laugh, breathlessly taking another kiss.
13
Kingston
My father stares at me across my office desk. He appears calm with his hands steepled before his jaw, concealing the makings of the five o’clock shadow he always seems to have no matter how much he shaves. He doesn’t say a word. He won’t utter a single syllable until I’m finished talking and he’s had a moment to process what I’ve proposed.
My brother and I always referred to this posture as his business stance. It became far less funny once we started working for him and those dark eyes were now pointed in our direction instead.
Though, to be honest, it’s not nearly as scary now as it once was. I know I’m making the right calls and the right changes, all in the name of adding a little more shine to the Botsford family name. If there’s one thing Beau Botsford understands more than anything else, it’s the value of a little extra shine.
Dollar value, that is.
And my results prove that so far.
“Overall, it’s admittedly risky,” I say, “but I’d say we have more to gain in the long run by moving forward than staying put. Nothing I’m adding will alienate our existing customer base while at the same time, it’ll draw new eyes. As much as Vegas is a party city, there’s value in giving those people a place to relax as well. The day spa and pool are just one way of doing that.”
“But...” Drake shifts in his chair next to my father. He’s been stewing there for so long, I almost forgot he was even here. He screws up his face and smirks. “Manicures and facials?” he mocks. “Isn’t all of that a little... feminine?”
“Yes,” I answer.
He blinks. Obviously, he wasn’t expecting me to be so proud of it.
I sit forward. “Our family brand has become synonymous with boys’ clubs. I feel like that reputation will do more harm than good in the long run. Doing more to appeal to half of our potential customer base is good business no matter what you do.”
Drake scoffs at that and peeks over at our father, obviously expecting him to back him up.
Still, Beau Botsford stays quiet.
“I can have a full cost estimate plus blueprints on your desk by next month,” I say to him. “I’m currently chatting with a contractor about the rooftop pool, which will require closing the top floors for a period of time. As soon as I know how long, you’ll be the first to know.”
He nods, soaking it all in. After a few moments, he scratches the edge of his chin and rolls his shoulders to stretch his back.
“You know...” his throat clears, “your mother’s been pushing me to go to her massage therapist for ages. Some Brazilian guy named Raul. Finally went last month to shut her up and he fixed problems in my back I didn’t even know I had, so... I can see a few good reasons to give guests the option. Especially our more over-worked colleagues.”
Drake’s face twists uncomfortably. “Raul?”
“Bookings at the spa would be completely private and confidential,” I say. “We could even offer direct-to-room service for those who might feel uncomfortable about being seen at the spa itself. Discretion has always been our policy. No reason to stop now.”
My father nods again. Another moment of silence. Another scratch of the jawline.
Drake glowers at me. Easy enough to ignore, though.
Finally, Dad rises from his chair and buttons his blazer. “When next month?” he asks.
I stand, trying hard to contain the excitement building in me. “I can have the completed proposal to you by the fifteenth at the latest. Most likely sooner, but I can’t commit to anything but the fifteenth.”
He half-smiles. The best possible reaction I could have gotten.
“I’m looking forward to it,” he says.
“Thank you, sir,” I say. “You won’t be disappointed.”
“Dad.” Drake hops to his feet. “The board isn’t going to—”
“You let me worry about the board,” my father says over him. “You ought to spend more time worrying about your own location.”
I detect a bit of subtext in his voice. The way Drake sinks back a step more than confirms it. Trouble in the Windy City already?
I don’t ask.
I have my own location to worry about.
Dad nods at me once again. “I have a meeting with Walsh. Keep me updated.”
“I will,” I say.
“Good work, kid,” he adds. “This plus Garland’s dwindling poll numbers make for a decent day in my book.”
I breathe a laugh. “Thank you, sir.”
He walks out and closes the door behind him, though I really wish he hadn’t.
Now, I’m locked in here with Drake.
Drake shifts back and forth on his feet with his jaw locked so tightly it makes his cheekbones stick out. After a few seconds, he glances over my shoulder at the painting Fiona gave me leaning against the file cabinet.
“New art?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I answer. “Thought I’d spruce the place up with some color.”
“Hm.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “It’s nice,” he says, his voice dry.
I expect him to pause in the doorway and fire back some new word of warning, some veiled threat of me making a new enemy, but he takes a page out of Dad’s book and doesn’t say a word as he walks out.
14
Kingston
I rush through the rest of my day.
It’s hard not to, knowing that Fiona is upstairs waiting for me. It was easier when our relationship consisted of hidden phone calls at the end of the day. It was something to look forward to. Moments to long for and treasure every second of when they finally happened.
But now? How can I possibly be expected to go through my responsibilities with the shadow of her sweet perfume lingering in my nostrils? I could run upstairs and take another hit of it any time I want to and that is far more difficult to resist than I thought it would be.
Fiona.
How did I ever even function without you in my life?
How am I supposed to function now that you’re here?
I step off the elevator onto the 18th floor. I try and act natural even though the strangers on the elevators don’t know me from Adam. They don’t know it’s my name on the building or that this isn’t my floor or that it’s Fiona Garland’s. But still, I move as I don’t have a year’s worth of rabid adrenaline pumping through my veins as I make my way down the hallway toward her room.
I have an excuse to be here, of course. It’s entirely possible that someone on her father’s staff might be in her room, an event planner or beautician of some sort. In that case, I’ll sputter out a bit about hotel business and be on my way.
I knock twice on her door and wait. I hold my breath and feel my heart pounding even harder.
The door opens on a familiar face. Unfortunately, not Fiona’s.
It’s Mildred.
“Hello,” she greets.
“Good afternoon,” I say, standing tall. “Is Ms. Garland available?”
“She is. And she’s been expecting you.”
I smile. “Then, may I come in?”
Mildred squints and stares at me. “No,” she answers.
“No?” I repeat.
She takes a quick step forward out into the hall. I jut back in surprise, quickly pivoting to the side as she continues toward the door across the hall. She purposefully pulls Fiona’s door closed and retrieves a room key from her pants pocket.
I stand back as she opens the second door.
“After you,” she says, gesturing inside.
I open my mouth to argue but another look at her static expression tells me this isn’t the type of woman to mess with. Instead, I give her a kind nod and enter her suite.
Mildred follows me inside and closes the door. “I think it’s about time the two of us were properly introduced.” She extends her hand. “I’m Mildred Swanson.”
I give her a loose handshake. She surprises me with a firm grip. “Kingston Botsford.” I smile to lighten the mood. “You work for Fiona, right?”
“Yes.”
“An assistant?”
“I’m not sure there is a word for what I am,” she says. “I’m an assistant, a housekeeper, a confidant. We grew up together. I’ve lived down the hall from her since before she was brought home from the hospital.”
“You two must be very close,” I say.
“She tells me everything.”
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
I clear my throat. “Why do I get the feeling you’re about to ask me what my intentions are?”
“Because that’s exactly what I’m about to ask you, Mr. Botsford.” She crosses her arms, tightly. “My family has served the Garland family for four generations. My mother tended to her mother. My grandmother tended to her grandmother. It’s quite literally our life’s work to make sure the Garland girls are taken care of. There is nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for Fiona.”
“Sounds like the two of us have something in common.”
She smirks. “I’m not joking, Mr. Botsford.”
“Neither am I, Ms. Swanson.”
“I need to know whether or not your little trysts with her are going to be more trouble than their worth,” she says. “The star-crossed fling under Daddy’s nose sure sounds like fun in theory, but those stories don’t traditionally end very well. You’re an educated man. You should know better.”
“I do.”
“No, I don’t think you do. You don’t know Richard Garland the way I know Richard Garland. When he finds out about what the two of you have been up to...” She shakes her head. “It’s entirely possible that neither of us will ever see her again.”
“I won’t let that happen,” I say. “She’d be safe here, with me. You as well.”
Strangely, she smiles. “And if you were any other man from any other family, I’d doubt it.” She scans the hotel suite, her eyes landing on the view outside. “She likes you.”
My heart skips twice. “That’s good to know,” I say.
“I couldn’t see it myself at first,” she murmurs. “Thought maybe this was just another one of her phases. She gets bored easily.”
“That’s... also good to know.”
“But there’s something more this time. She admires you.”
I smile.
Mildred raises a sharp brow. “Don’t fuck it up.”
My smile dips. “Yes, ma’am,” I say with a bow.
She shifts out of the way. “You can go over now.”
I pause by the door. “It was nice to meet you, Ms. Swanson.”
“You, too,” she says, her face softening with a genuine smile.
I enter the hallway as Fiona’s door opens. Fiona stands there in an elegant sundress, one gorgeous enough to stop time for a second or two as I gaze at it.
She scoffs and looks over my shoulder at Mildred. “And just what have you two been up to?” she asks.
“Just taking him for a test drive,” Mildred says. “You were right. He has very talented hands.”
My gut lurches. “No—” I look at Fiona. “That’s not— nothing happened. There were no hands.”
Fiona cocks her head in suspicion. “I believe you,” she says. “I never told her that.”
“Right,” Mildred says. “She said your hands were dreadful.”
My brows rise. “Oh, really?”
Fiona smiles at me. “Lies.” Her gaze shifts toward Mildred. “Have a good night, Mildred.”
“Good luck at dinner,” she replies as she slowly disappears behind her door. “I want to know everything.”
The door closes and Fiona steps backward, beckoning me into her suite. “Come on in,” she says.
I duck in quickly to get out of the hallway. “Well, she’s… an interesting woman.”
Fiona chuckles as she sits down at the writing desk and opens a small jewelry box sitting on top. “She didn’t leave too many marks, did she?” she asks.
“No,” I say. “Nothing visual to the naked eye, anyway.”
“She means well.”
“I can tell.”
I take a moment, allowing my eyes to feast on her sitting there. The dress hugs the shape of her body but doesn’t seem the least bit tight or uncomfortable. I can’t quite say the same about the pair of heels strapped around her ankles, though a woman like Fiona has obviously mastered the art of making painful beauty look natural. I sit in awe and watch her gently fasten a golden necklace around her neck. She reaches into the box for the matching earrings inside.
I clear my throat. “You have a dinner?” I ask.
Fiona inhales before answering. “Yes,” she says. “I wanted to tell you sooner. I should have, actually — but there wasn’t a good time without ruining a good moment.”
“Another boring night of schmoozing your father’s donors?”
“Something like that.” Fiona stands with two golden hoops now dangling from her earlobes. “It’s with Roland,” she says.
My stomach clenches. “You’re going to dinner with Roland?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” I ask. “You hate him.”
“I do. But as long as he works for my father, I have to play nice. If I don’t go, I’ll have to suffer through yet another lecture and end up going to dinner with him anyway. Trust me, it’s easier this way.”
I look at her dress again. It feels tainted and cruel now that I know she didn’t put it on for me.
“I don’t like this,” I say.
“Neither do I.”
“Then, don’t go. Cancel it.”
“I can’t, Kingston. If I do…” She pauses, swallowing hard. “I don’t want to make my life any harder than it already is.”
I sigh. Maintaining a good relationship with her father and — unfortunately — Roland is probably the one thing saving Fiona from something crueler than that dress.
But still…
“I don’t like this,” I say again. “Only getting to see you through a television screen with…” I bite down, “with his arm around you. And the way you smile at him.”
Fiona’s brows pinch together, flashing that tiny wrinkle between her eyes. “Do you think I enjoy it?” she asks.
“I…” I stop, unsure exactly what to think. “I’m not sure what it is I see on your face when you’re with him, but it’s not what I see when you’re with me.”
She blinks slowly, a subtle reaction to my words. “Do you think I’ve lied to you?” she asks. “That I’ve used you?”
“No, I… I don’t know.”
Fiona steps forward, her dress swishing at the hips, and plants herself in front of me. “Do you think I think of him… when I’m with you?” she asks.
I don’t answer, too disgusted from picturing it.
“I don’t,” she says. “In fact, I think of you when I’m forced to smile at him. Forced, Kingston. And after a long day of being forced to be her, I choose to come back to you and be me.”
She reaches for my belt.
“Fiona…”
“When I smile at him,” she says as she rips my belt loose, “I’m not thinking about how happy he makes me or how much fun I’m having. I think about how shocked he’ll be when he finds out about this.”
She slides a hand into my pants, purposefully cupping my groin. My cock twitches against her palm. I suck in a breath as she firmly strokes me to life.
