Page 43 of Wicked King

“You wouldn’t dare…”

“I would, and I will.” With my free hand, I reach for the compartment in the door and pull out a pair of metal handcuffs.

A long minute of silence lingers between us as she eyes the manacles swinging from my finger. “How about that kiss you wanted? It’s yours if you let me go with you,” she grits out.

Well, that’s unexpected. My stupid cock grows harder still.

“Done.” The word pops out before I can think better of it.

Her eyes widen as if she hadn’t expected me to agree. Hell, I really shouldn’t have. Her tongue slides out, moistening her lower lip, and anticipation unfurls in my gut. Dio, I don’t remember being this excited about kissing a girl since I was in junior high.

My cock strains so hard against my slacks I consider unzipping them just to relieve the pressure. That probably wouldn’t go over well with my fiancée.

“Just do it already,” she mutters.

I waggle a finger. “I was promised a kiss from you, not the other way around.”

“Ugh.” Squeezing her eyes closed, she lifts her head so her lips barely brush mine.

“Eyes open, spitfire, or it doesn’t count. I want you to see exactly who is claiming your mouth. It’s only a matter of time before I claim every inch of you with my tongue, from that pouty lower lip to the soft swell of your breast to that sweet pussy.”

She releases a sharp gasp, and her eyes snap open. “No one has ever dared talk to me like that.”

“Get used to it, wifey.” My mouth captures hers before her next breath. As much as I would like her to give into me, restraint is not exactly my strong suit. My tongue pushes through her clenched teeth, and as our tongues tangle, a soft moan rises between us. I ravage every inch of her mouth, acquainting myself with her taste. She only fights me for a moment, her palms pressed against my chest before she surrenders to desire.

Because her words may say one thing, but the way her body reacts to mine tells another story. I’m fairly certain if I were to run my finger across her panties right now she’d be soaked for me. This little virgin wants to be fucked, and I cannot wait to make her mine and mine alone.

I nibble on her lips, sucking and claiming as she melts under my touch. I resume rubbing my cock against her apex as I kiss her harder, and this time a more powerful moan escapes those swollen lips. She arches her back, giving herself to me and Dio, I’m so turned on by her surprising reaction I’m like a horny teen seconds from coming on myself.

Fisting her decadent raven locks, I tilt her head baring her throat. I’m an instant from tasting the sensitive flesh at her neck when a car zips by blaring a horn. The lusty spell shatters, and Jia plants her hand on my chest, shoving me back.

With a frustrated groan, I sit back and adjust my slacks. My cock tents the black trousers and Jia’s gaze roams straight to the proof of my desire. She sits up, her cheeks burning a deep ruby that matches the natural shade of her lips.

“Well, that was unexpected,” I mumble.

She doesn’t utter a word, only presses her lips into a hard line.

“You ready to see Lei?” I offer my hand.

Her head dips, but she doesn’t take my chivalrous offering. Instead, she barrels by me and nearly slams the door in my face.

CHAPTER 21

NEVER SUCCUMB

Jia

Oh, this is bad. So bad. Damn it, Jia, get a hold of yourself. So Marco Rossi can kiss? So my body is a traitorous little bitch? It doesn’t mean anything. I reach the front door of the old electronics store and draw in a deep breath to still the pounding of my heart. I’m just winded from the sprint up the street. It has nothing to do with Marco’s tongue or his ridiculously hard erection pressed against me.

Because what would that say about me? That I was actually attracted to my fiancé? No way in hell. It’s simply been so long since a man has touched me… And let’s be honest, I haven’t gone past second base since college.

It’s just out of control hormones.

Wrapping my hand around the rusty door handle, I bury the heated thoughts and focus on why we’re here today. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the dingy glass door and mutter a curse. If I hadn’t been so worried about my fiancé leaving me behind, I would have changed into something more appropriate than an oversized long-sleeved shirt and yoga pants.

Marco’s musky scent reaches my sensitive nostrils an instant before his hand wraps around mine, and he jerks the front door open. “Let me go first, spitfire.”

“I don’t think so.” I tug my hand out from under his and dart in front of him. Too bad I have no idea where I’m going as I march through the dusty relics of the past. Radios, CD players, and a dozen outdated VHS systems line the rickety shelves of the abandoned shop.

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