Page 47 of Making the King

I’m vaguely aware of Cain mentioning his office, but I don’t pay much attention. Instead, I pepper Rocco’s jaw and neck with kisses, licks, and soft bites as he carries me away from the bar.

“Are you sure?” Rocco asks as he sits me down on what I assume is Cain’s desk.

Rather than answering him, I undo the button and zipper on his jeans. My movements are hurried, jerky. I want him—my husband—inside me right the fuck now.

“Answer me, Killer,” he demands.

I look up at him from beneath my long, dark lashes. “I’m sure,” I confirm.

I barely recognize the person I’ve become as I shove his jeans and boxers down his muscular legs. The lust pulsating inside me stirs my action, and all I can think about is the way it feels when he moves inside me.

Letting go of me, Rocco pulls his shirt over his head, and kicks his shoes and socks off. I lick my lips expectantly as he stands in front of me, completely naked.

Damn, this man is as sculpted as they come. His cheekbones could cut diamonds, and his muscles call to me in a way I’ve never considered before. But I want to touch them, lick them, make sure I’ve tasted every inch of his skin.

“Stop looking at me like that, Killer,” he rasps.

I frown. “Like what?”

He chuckles and holds his hand out for me to take, which I do. I let him pull me off the table and to my feet, and as soon as I’m standing, he rids me of my crop-top and bra.

“Like you want to devour me,” he smirks. Then he palms my tits and pinches my nipples. “Like you want to own every part of me.”

My mom’s training kicks in, and I immediately avert my gaze. “I’m s-sorry. I didn’t m-mean to.”

Rocco’s growl makes me flinch, and for the first time, I feel scared of him. My eyes widen and my breath comes out in pants as he bends until his face is right in front of mine.

“Rocco—”

“Don’t,” he says. The velvet smooth tone is such a stark contrast to the anger marring his face. “Ever fucking apologize for looking at me like that.”

“But I—”

He cups my face, bringing our faces so close his breath fans across my lips. “Do you know what it does to me when you look at me like that?”

I shake my head.

“It brings me to my fucking knees, Killer. It’s humbling to have a woman like you look at me like I’m a treat you can’t wait to fucking dig your teeth into.”

Looking into his dark eyes, I relax. I can’t explain what it is about Rocco, but he has the power to bring me to my knees as well. With him, I don’t feel ruined, or like the monster I really am. He makes me feel treasured and wanted.

Rocco has shown me a side of life I never even knew existed, one I’m wanting more of. It’s still unbelievable to me that I’m feeling like this, and I’m not sure I know what it means. But maybe I don’t need to. Perhaps I just need to accept it, and ride the wave for as long as possible.

“You do that to me, too,” I admit softly. “Thank you for being so patient with me.”

To my surprise, Rocco lets out a booming laugh. “I’m not patient, Killer. I’m selfish.”

“Selfish?” I ask, confused about his choice of words. “No. You’re generous.”

Rocco moves his hands to my pants, practically tearing them off me along with my thong. Both pool around my feet, and I step out of my stilettos so I can kick the clothes off.

I’m now standing just as naked as Rocco, and despite the blinds not being closed so anyone can look in, I don’t feel ashamed. How can I, when my husband is looking at me with barely contained lust?

“Yes,” Rocco says, his hand cupping my pussy. “I’m very selfish when it comes to you. But I don’t think I care anymore.”

I don’t understand what he’s trying to say, so I ask, “What do you mean?”

He slides a finger through my folds, and I’m surprised I’m already wet. “I want you, hermosa. And I’m not sure I could give you up even if you wanted me to.”

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