Page 67 of Kneeling for Them
“Mm, no, thanks.”I don’t know why I’m being obstinate.I really do want to sit in his lap, inhale his scent, relax into the feeling of being protected and cherished.
Loved.
The night of my big argument with Tommy, Kingston said he was falling in love with me.I said it back, but we haven’t said it since.
“Ella,” he says, his voice stern.“Sit in my lap.Now.”
In the time it takes me to turn my head and look out the window, he has unbuckled me and is yanking me over to his seat.I accidentally knee him in the thigh, and he grunts in surprise, but he doesn’t let me go.Before I know it, I’m sitting on his lap, facing the steering wheel, and he’s using his legs to keep mine spread apart.
He brings one hand up to cup my throat.Desire pools in my pussy as I feel myself submitting to him, easing into the role I feel I was born to play: Kingston’s little girl.I relax against his front, feel the hardness of his cock against my ass and the firm planes of his pecs against my shoulders.
“You need this,” he says, his voice full of confidence and discovery.
“Yes,” I whisper.
Continuing to hold my neck still, he makes quick work of the buttons on my jeans.He dips his hand into my panties and swears.“You’re so fucking wet for me, little one.”
“I want you, Daddy.”
“I’m all yours.”He swirls his fingers through my wetness, rubbing gently against my clit.
My muscles strain as I try to get more of him, but his hand tightens on my throat.
“Careful, little girl.I’m in charge.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I gasp.
In this beautiful place of dominance and submission, where the two of us meet and I allow his control, he fingers me into oblivion.He spears me, caresses me, tantalizes my nerves until everything builds beyond pleasure.My orgasm pulses through me and I cry out, held in place by Kingston’s strong grasp.
“You’re so soft, so perfect,” he murmurs, releasing my throat and kissing the side of my neck.
As soon as I can remember my name, and how to form human speech, I wiggle my ass against his lap.“What about you?”
“I’ll fuck you later,” he says, a smile in his voice.“Just now, that was for you.”
I remain where I am, leaning against him, appreciating his strength and solidity.
“I haven’t heard from Sebastian,” I say.
“I haven’t either.”
“Are you worried?”
“No, I’m not.He’s working through a lot, and that’s just how his mind works—solitude and whatever.It’s annoying to be his friend when he does it, but he always comes back.”
I want to keep being worried and anxious.Perhaps because that anxiety is a tether, holding me closer to Sebastian.But Kingston sounds so certain that I decide, once again, to put my trust and faith in him.
Kingston runs his hands over my arms, my stomach, my legs and I relax against him once more, allowing him to take care of me, allowing him to do the worrying and fretting that’s been taking up so much of my brain space the past few days.
In front of us, the lights of Fair Heights twinkle like grounded stars.One breath after another, I find myself calming, growing sleepy and content.When it’s time to leave here, I might close my eyes on the way home.I feel like I could sleep for a month.
My phone vibrates in my purse, but I ignore it, too relaxed in Kingston’s arms to want to move.The vibration continues—it’s a phone call, not a text.
But the caller could be Sebastian.I scramble up, reaching for my bag.Pulling my phone from the pocket, I frown at the screen.It’s a local number, but not one I’m familiar with.Normally, I’d let it go to voicemail, but a big part of me is hoping for Sebastian’s voice, so I answer while Kingston continues to gently massage my arms and shoulders.
“Hello?”
“Miss Marchand?This is Detective Baldwin.”
