Page 89 of Reckless King

“Yes, yes, yes.” Her chants are muffled. I’ve still got her mouth pressed to mine. Then she’s there, toppling over the edge, dropping her head to my shoulder the way she did that night at Onyx, her hot panting breath washing over my skin. She grinds herself down on me, riding out the force of her orgasm.

I force harsh breaths into my lungs, so I won’t disgrace myself by coming in my pants while her ass chokes my finger and her arousal soaks through the material separating us.

When she stills, I gently pull out of her and let her skirt drop back down.

“God, Tate,” she says in a shaky voice, her eyes wide and dazed. “I never knew I could come like that. I never knew it could feel so good.”

I bring her face to mine again and kiss her. “It’s going to get so much better.”

She laughs a little dazedly, as if she can’t imagine it.

That response only solidifies my determination. I can’t wait to show her everything. Everything her body can do. Everything mine can do. And exactly what we’re capable of doing together.

Jeremy’s voice comes over the intercom. “We’re a minute out, Mr. King.”

I press the button. “Thanks, Jeremy. Take us underneath, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You don’t want him to drop us off out front?” Violet asks. Since she moved in, we’ve mostly come and gone that way, ensuring we’re seen together as often as possible.

“Butterfly, unless you want the doorman and the concierge to see the mess you left on my pants, then skipping the foyer is the way to go.”

A blush creeps over her cheeks and she raises herself up on her knees, as if she’s going to climb off me.

I grip her hips and gently force her back onto my thighs. “I want you right here until I have to let you go so we can get out of the car.”

We stay that way, our mouths fused together, until Jeremy pulls into the underground garage and stops in front of the elevator. Just before he opens the door to us, I murmur into Violet’s ear. “As soon as we’re in the elevator, it’s my turn.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

VIOLET

For a moment after the door of the elevator whooshes shut, Tate doesn’t move. The mirrors on the walls reflect our visages back to us from all sides as we stare at each other. Then, in the space of one heartbeat, he’s on me, caging me with his arms, pushing me against the wall and thrusting his erection hard against my stomach.

A small moan escapes me as I throw my arms around his neck. His mouth consumes me, tongue licking inside, sliding against mine, exploring ruthlessly as he brands my lips with his. He slips his hand into my hair and grasps a handful, twisting possessively.

Then, without warning, he’s letting me go and dropping to his knees. “Pull your dress up,” he demands.

I grip the silky material and pull it up over my hips. Without hesitation, he drags my wet panties to the side and buries his tongue inside me. After one lap, then another, he unerringly finds my clit, lashing it with his tongue, pulling a squeal from me as two fingers push inside. It’s urgent and dirty, and even though I already came in the limo, I’m still on edge enough that, before I know it, I’m already close.

As if he can sense it, he chuckles against my slick skin. “Give me number two before we get to the top, butterfly.”

His tongue connects with my clit again, and he pushes his fingers deeper. My legs are shaking already. So are my hands as I clutch at his hair to anchor myself. There’s no holding back. Already, I’m clamping down around his fingers.

“God… I’m so close.”

“That’s it, beautiful. I want to taste the moment you orgasm.”

All it takes is one more curl of his fingers. Then I’m coming, my hips bucking into him, my breath rasping loudly in the confined space. He licks and sucks me through it until I’m trembling and weak.

He stands, and a moment later, the elevator dings and the door slides open into his foyer. Rather than pulling me through, he grips the side of my face and kisses me. He’s covered in my arousal, his mouth and chin wet with me. On instinct, I pull back a fraction, ready to recoil, but his tongue swipes across my lips, and underneath the taste of me, is the taste of him, and I can’t get enough of him. So I let him kiss me. I let him tangle his tongue with mine until I’m kissing him back just as hungrily.

The elevator doors remain open, the sensors telling it we haven’t exited, while he takes possession of my mouth. I’ve come twice already, and that should be enough. Itshouldbe. But when he presses the hard ridge of his erection against me, my clit pulses with need. I’m empty, and I want him to fill me. I want Tate to fuck me. I want all of him.

He rips his mouth from mine and, chest heaving, watches me. His pupils are so dilated, his eyes are just a thin ring of whiskey around black pools.

“Tate,” I shamelessly whimper. “I need you inside me.”

---