Page 21 of King
“King…”
“Quiet, Alana.”
Her brows furrow, she purses her lips and doesn’t say another word. I need to think rationally and calm the hell down. Her voice and scent virtually make it impossible. But this isn’t what should be happening. We both know it.
“From the first night I saw you, I knew you’d become a weakness to me. I’m not a jealous man, but I can’t stand their eyes on you.”
I run my hand through my hair, then put my hands on my hips, looking her in the eyes. A weakness that’s what she is or at least what she’s becoming. I don’t know if that’s an admission I need to make but I think she needs to hear it.
“And that’s a problem, Alana. A big fucking problem.”
“Why?” She leans against the door, her arms folded across her chest. “We’re fucking adults, King.”
“Dylan.” I sigh. “How many times do I have to tell you?”
I don’t know why I insist on her calling me by name, but she’s different from everyone else. And I don’t like it when she refers to me as King like everyone else.
She smiles. “We’re adults, Dylan. We’re the only ones who have a say in whatever this is, if it’s anything. Nobody else. This is between you and me.”
She pushes off the door and walks towards me.
“Alana, don’t,” I warn, taking a step back. “I’m barely controlling myself as it is.”
All I want to do is fuck her. Fuck her on my desk, up against the door, on the couch, on the floor. Fuck her until I own every inch of her body, her soul. Fuck her until she screams my name, and everyone in this damn building knows she’s mine. At least they know she’s mine while she’s here. And if they don’t keep their eyes off her, they’ll get my wrath.
“Alana,” I call her name again in warning.
But she’s what I want. Even if it’s only to get her out of my system.
“Dylan, I want you.” She stops inches in front of me. “I’m not going to hide that from anyone. And if you want me, you shouldn’t either.”
Chapter Seven
ALANA
I’veofficiallylostmymind. What in the actual hell am I thinking?
Clearly, I’m not thinking with my head but definitely thinking with my pussy. Of course, I want King. The man has the sex appeal of a god. I want to lick every surface of his sun-kissed skin. I’m sure he can give me the ride of my life, but this is not the time to lose sight of what’s going on. Not to lose sight of the reason I’m even here. It’s not the right time to lose myself in a man, especially this one.
And while I know all that’s true, I’m still contemplating doing it anyway. He can give me a break from the chaos of my life. I need to live. To breathe. To feel. And not focusing on Matteo and what can possibly happen.
Suddenly there’s no more time for contemplation. No more time to think about which step to take with King because his mouth is on me, devouring my very soul, making all the doubts, concerns, and asinine questions, disappear into thin air.
I’m getting lost as the fires of desire increase and I can’t stop it. I don’t want to stop it. It’s intense. Fiery. All consuming. And just what I need.
“You’ve got too many clothes on,” I mutter against his mouth as I try to remove the leather vest he always wears.
Never breaking our kiss, in a flurry, he removes his vest, then pulls his Henley over his head, tossing both somewhere. He grasps my face between his large palms, while I run my fingers over the hard planes of his chest. I giggle at both of our eagerness. I’m not sure how long it’s been for him, but it’s been way too long since I’ve had a man make me come.
He pulls away briefly, staring into my eyes. I’m not sure what he sees but his face softens, before he dives back in, tracing my bottom lip with his tongue then biting it hard, before shoving his tongue back down my throat.
His calloused hands move all over my body, increasing my desire. Our tongues war with each other, neither of us willing to submit to the other. I intertwine my fingers in his hair, the soft strands tickling my skin. I pull him impossibly closer. It’s like the mere inches that separate us is too much distance.
Will it always be like this with him?
He steps away from our kiss and walks to the couch in the room. I face him, while he slumps in the chair with his legs open, stroking his beautiful cock. I’d never believe a man could have a beautiful dick, but King or Dylan is proving me wrong.
For years I’ve written about Alpha men. Those with the perfect body, the perfect hair, the perfect cock. Matteo happens to be one of those men too. Now King. Here’s to new experiences and new dick.
