Page 21 of The Kings
His hands roam, tearing at my clothes with desperate urgency. There’s no tenderness, only a raging fire that demands to be quenched. As my back hits the cold stone, he drags my pants and knickers down to my ankles and looms over me.
“Fuck, Eliza,” he groans, undoing his pants quickly and pulling his cock out. “I need to feel you.”
“I only ride my stallions bareback, so what the fuck are you waiting for?” I growl, impatiently lifting my hips.
With a dark chuckle, he drives his cock into me, my legs restrained by the pants around my ankles. “Fuck, your cunt is so tight,” he growls, thrusting deeper.
I grit my teeth and dig my nails into his back as his cock fills me, stretching me in the best way possible. His body is a hot, solid weight against mine. His cock is steel inside my pussy, and every thrust makes my world contract around him.
“You feel so fucking good,” he grunts.
We fuck like animals in heat; the only noises are our laboured breaths and the rustle of leaves to cover our moans of pleasure. It’s messy and dirty and the best fucking thing I’ve ever felt in my life.
“Oh god, Eliza,” he moans, his hips picking up speed as he thrusts harder, faster, the head of his cock hitting my g-spot with every thrust.
“Harder,” I pant, rocking my hips against his. “I want to feel every fucking inch of you.”
He obliges, slamming into me like he’s marking his territory, claiming me as his. My orgasm builds, coiling tighter and tighter until I’m teetering on the edge.
“Tarquin!”
“I’m so fucking close. Come for me, petal,” he growls.
My body jerks, responding to his rough demand. I shatter, my pussy clenching around him as we both climax together, and it’s cataclysmic, obliterating thought and reason, and he pumps his cum deep inside me.
“Fuck,” we both moan, trying to catch our breaths as the aftershocks fade.
The panting subsides, air cooling the sweat on my skin. Tarquin’s grip is still firm on my hips, his chest heaving. I sensehis reluctance to let me go, but I don’t do cuddles. The need to move, to be vigilant, pulses stronger than the afterglow.
“Come on,” I murmur, pushing him off me and struggling to get my knickers and pants back up. I’m all business now. “We’re out in the open here. Not that I think David will be following us anytime soon.”
“You laid him out. He has been humiliated,” Tarquin says, doing his pants up, his voice tight.
“Think he’ll try again?”
“Nah, he’s a pussy.” He stands up and offers me his hand.
I take it and then let it go quickly, not wanting him to get any ideas. Not that I wouldn’t do this again, all night and in my bed, but that’s where I draw the line.
“Let’s go,” I murmur and stalk off, not waiting for him to catch up.
12
JAMES
“Where the hellhave you two been?” My voice cuts through the silence as I stare down Tarquin and Eliza sneaking in the front door like two teenagers caught by their parents. They freeze like deers caught in headlights.
“Out,” Tarquin mutters, but his bruised knuckles, bloody lip and Eliza’s bloody face tell a different story.
“Out? You look like you’ve gone ten rounds with a wrecking ball.” I cross my arms, my patience thin as ice.
Eliza meets my gaze, her striking green eyes fierce even under the shadow of the night. “Yeah, well, what can we say? It was a party. Gotta shower and head to bed. Early class and all that. Byeeee.” She scarpers up the stairs quicker than a cat, leaving Tarquin snorting and shaking his head as he’s left holding the bag.
“She’s something else, that one.”
“No shit. Spill it.”
His eyes lock with mine, a cold seriousness that makes my blood heat up at the whiff of danger.
