Page 30 of Slay King

I started to argue when he began to unfasten his pants. My stomach fluttered as his abs flexed and the V cut was fully revealed.

“Naked—now,” he ordered, and I remembered what I was doing.

With shaky hands, I finished with my zipper and slid the shorts down my legs, along with my panties, until I could step out of them. When I straightened back up, King’s hooded eyes were following my every move. His pants were gone, along with his boxer briefs. My gaze dropped to his rigid erection, and I sucked in a breath at the sight of it.

“Sweets,” he said, drawing my attention back to his face, “do you trust me?”

That was a loaded question. There were things I trusted him with, but others I didn’t. Not anymore. But we were standing in his room, naked, and I was pretty sure this question meant if I trusted him with my body. That was a yes. He had never not rocked my world sexually.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Good girl.” The pleasure in his voice curled around me like a warm blanket. He held out his hand to me, and I stepped forward and placed mine in it. “Get on your knees.”

I tensed and stared down at his erection again. I’d done this once with Hill. He’d slapped me and told me I was pathetic at it. Panic started to build in my chest. As much as I wanted to put my mouth on him, trace his V cut with my tongue, and worship every ounce of his perfect body, I didn’t want to let him down.

He slid his knuckle under my chin and tilted my head back to look up at him. “On your knees,” he repeated huskily.

Not wanting to disobey, I slowly eased to my knees in front of him.

He ran his hand over my head. “Damn, that’s pretty,” he murmured.

Nervously, I reached to wrap my fingers around it. The swollen head was almost blue, I realized. Sticking out my tongue, I ran it over the tip.

King’s hand fisted in my hair. “Fuck,” he hissed.

I took that as encouragement and licked each side before opening my mouth wide enough to slide it between my lips.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned as his hand tightened its hold on my hair. “Such a hot little mouth.”

My nipples tingled from his words, and some of my anxiety eased as I took more of him. Wanting to keep making him feel good. Knowing that I was the cause of it. When I had him as deep as I could take him, I lifted my gaze to his, and he let out a deep rumble in his chest.

Our eyes held as I started to work my mouth over him in a steady rhythm.

“Ah, fuck, that’s my good girl,” he said, staring down at me as if I were some powerful, magical being. I felt like it at the moment.

His legs trembled, and it only urged me on. To take more, give more. Hear his pleasure as it grew.

He jerked hard on my hair, pulling himself free of my mouth. “UP!” he demanded.

I blinked, confused. I thought he’d been enjoying it. What had I done wrong?

“Sweets, if you don’t get up and in the shower, I am going to bend you over the bed and fuck the hell out of you.”

I wasn’t so sure I didn’t like that idea. Slowly, I stood, my legs a little wobbly. I looked back at the bed and considered bending over it.

“Don’t. Get in the shower,” he said. “It’s one more door to close off any sounds you make. If they hear you when I’m fucking you and say one goddamn word about it, I can’t promise I won’t put a bullet in them.”

I blinked and sucked in a breath, then decided I had better go get in the shower. I no longer doubted his threat to shoot someone. Not after tonight.

• Thirteen •

You’re engaged. Act like it.

King

The mornings were getting warmer sooner. With a cup of coffee in my hand, I watched as the trainers prepped the thoroughbreds that were leaving today for Louisville. It was a reminder that I would have to pack up and leave in three days myself. With Scotlin. Leaving Rumor here.

I fucking hated it. And I hadn’t prepared her for it yet either. The news would cover more than just the horse races. Our engagement would be mentioned, and photos or videos would be posted of the two of us there. I needed to go talk to Maeme about keeping Rumor away from the television while I was gone.

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