Page 59 of Lace 'em Up

And I hear it.

The hitch in my name on her lips, the one that has my cock aching, like those phantom fingers in my chest have left my heart alone and are wrapping around my dick, stroking firm and fast, coiling my orgasm at the base of my spine.

I grind my teeth together, stave it off, keep hold of my control.

And I keep at her clit, rubbing firm and sure and?—

“King!” she cries out, probably far too loud considering that my mom is right down the hall.

But I can’t bring myself to care.

Not when I get to watch her orgasm slide through her—tightening her ass, flexing her hips, curling her fingers and toes as her thighs tighten around me for a heartbeat. Two. Three.

And then she goes limp.

Fucking perfect.

Tart and sweet. Sass and kindness. My prickly princess who only blooms for me.

It’s dangerous thinking—I’m fully aware of that. Fully aware that this has only one way to end, and that’s with my heart becoming roadkill because I can’t give this woman all that she needs, all that she deserves.

And she deserves everything.

“Holy.” She’s breathing like she just ran a marathon. “Fucking.” A long inhale that has her tits jiggling and my cock growing even harder. “Shit.”

“Again,” I mutter.

Those emerald half-mast eyes fly open, lips parting in surprise. “What?”

“I haven’t tasted that slick cunt, princess.”

Another breath, shorter, more staccato. “King,” she whispers.

I don’t listen to the note of warning in her tone, just palm each lush thigh, push them wide, and I get my mouth on her.

Sweet.

So fucking sweet.

Barely any hints of tart, and just wet enough for me to drink her up, for my tongue to slide freely through her folds. I dip inside her entrance, tasting that slick channel, feeling her shiver, those internal muscles contracting around me, and then I’m sliding my mouth away, dragging my tongue up to her clit.

Circle. Tease. Press. Push her closer to the edge.

Back down and inside.

Clit. Tongue fuck. Repeat until I feel her fingers in my hair, until she’s both keeping me close and pushing me away, until I feel her thighs trembling, hear my name chanted in increasing frequency.

“King. King. King,” she cries hoarsely. “Oh God. King.”

My tongue is fucking that slick pussy so I get to feel her convulse around me.

Fucking glorious.

She slumps down to the mattress, chest heaving, tits bouncing, and—God—I want to fuck her.

But I’m also not done with her.

I wipe my chin, kiss my way up to her mouth, tasting her lips in a lazy, slow caress, waiting until the sweat begins to dry on her body, until her breathing stabilizes, until clarity comes back into her eyes.

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