Page 81 of Wicked King

Marco blanches, the fire in his eyes dissipating. His jaw drops before he mutters, “Excuse me?”

“Yéye said?—”

He stiffens and sits up, removing that skillful digit and I release my hold on his shaft. “So that’s why? Because your grandfather forced you to fuck me?”

“No…” Not exactly.

“Then why, Jia? A week ago, you said you despised me and that you wanted an open marriage. What changed?”

Anger pummels my veins as I stare up at the irresistible idiot. “I want you, okay? I find you attractive, I even find you slightly tolerable sometimes. You were kind and caring when I was stuck in that hospital for a week, and I don’t know, maybe being shot put some things into perspective. The other stuff, the duty and what not, plays into it, but it’s not the only reason. It’s just a good excuse, I guess.”

A stupid grin lights up his handsome face. “So I didn’t need to beg? You really want this too?”

“Yes,” I hiss.

“Say it.”

“Say what?”

“Ask me to please fuck you.” That cocky smirk only grows more intolerable.

“Dream on, honey.” I reach for his cock and squeeze. “Now give me that unforgettable night you promised.”

He smothers a squeal through clenched teeth and presses his lips to mine. “Your request is my command, spitfire.” Then he pushes me back onto the mattress and nestles his hips between my thighs. “Can we talk about removing the lingerie?”

“No,” I growl.

“Maybe next time?”

“If there is one.”

“Oh, Mrs. Rossi, after tonight, you’ll be begging me to fuck you all day, every day.”

“Pretty arrogant words, Mr. Rossi. I hope you can back them up with action. And it’s Mrs. Guo.”

“What about Guo-Rossi?”

“We’ll see after tonight.”

“Fair enough.” He disappears between my legs, and a warm tongue drags across my clit an instant later. His tongue flicks the delicate nub, then draws it between his teeth. I wriggle from the riot of sensations, but his palm flattens across my belly. “First, I’m going to fuck you with my tongue, then my fingers, and finally, my cock. By the time I’m done with you, Mrs. Rossi, you won’t be able to walk.”

“That’s Mrs. G—” I begin to murmur, but the rest of the word falls away on a moan as he dips a finger inside me.

His tongue continues its maddening strokes as he thrusts with one finger, then adds in a second. I’m so full of him, so aware of our joined flesh, of his tongue circling my clit, his fingers pumping in and out of me, his hand splayed across my belly. Marco is everywhere.

The delicious tension builds, the steady thrusts increasing in tempo with the incessant circling. Fire scorches my veins, racing to my lower half.

“Marco,” I groan.

He doesn’t let up his assault, only doubling his ministrations as my hips buck beneath him.

“I’m going to come,” I pant.

“Good,” he murmurs against my heated flesh, the vibrations only pushing me closer to the edge. “It will only be the first time tonight.”

His tongue finds the taut bundle of nerves once again, and he sucks on the swollen nub. The sun, moon and stars all sail across my vision as I reach for his dark locks and tangle my fingers through the silky strands. Then the hand splayed across my belly moves up to my breast, somehow still managing to carefully avoid my wound, despite the obvious uncontrollable lust. He pinches my pert nipple, and I explode.

“Oh, Marco,” I moan as I come apart. Liquid fire surges up my spine, the overwhelming sensations licking up my core, and a tremor surges through every inch of my body. All the air escapes my lungs, and I just lay there, a quivering, whimpering puddle.

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