Page 120 of King of Praise
I press her leg down, spreading her wider so I can watch my cock disappear inside her tight, wet pussy. The sight is mesmerizing—her pink flesh stretching around my thickness, glistening with evidence of her arousal. I withdraw slowly, savoring the way her body clings to me, before driving back in with a force that makes her gasp.
“Look at how perfectly you take me.” I establish a rhythm alternating between torturously slow withdrawals and hard, deep thrusts. “So eager for my cock. So greedy for more.”
Her only response is a broken moan as I bottom out inside her again. Her inner muscles flutter around me, still sensitive from her previous orgasm. I maintain the punishing pace, each thrust precise and relentless, hitting spots that make her writhe beneath me.
“Such a good girl.” My voice is heavy with desire as I watch her take every inch. “You were made for this. Made to take my cock so beautifully.”
Her hands clutch at my ass, nails digging in as I drive into her harder. The slight pain only fuels my desire, reminding me that she’s here, safe, mine.
“So close,” she cries, her body arching to meet each thrust. “Don’t stop. Need you so much.”
“Never stopping,” I promise, maintaining the demanding rhythm that has her gasping beneath me. “Going to fuck you until you can’t remember anything but how good this feels. How perfectly we fit together.”
Her pussy clenches around me at my words, drawing a groan from deep in my chest. I gaze where we’re connected as I continue to take her with measured intensity.
Two weeks of constant proximity, of claiming her body whenever and wherever desire strikes, has done nothing to diminish my hunger for her. If anything, each encounter increases my need.
I maintain the harsh, fast rhythm until she’s writhing beneath me, her nails scoring my ass as she pleads for more. I give in to basic instincts, hips snapping forward with increased force as I chase our mutual completion.
“Touch yourself,” I command, voice rough with approaching release. “Want to feel you come again while I’m inside you.”
She obeys, fingers finding her clit as I fuck her harder, deeper, driving us both toward the edge. Her second orgasm triggers mine—pleasure crashing through me in waves as I empty myself inside her with a final thrust.
I remain buried inside her, my cock still throbbing with aftershocks as I brace my weight on my forearms. Her body trembles beneath me. The urge to crush her against me, to somehow get even closer, wars with my need to protect her from being overwhelmed.
Her eyes flit open, meeting mine with such complete trust and devotion that my chest tightens painfully. I lower my head to capture her lips. The kiss starts gentle—a soft brush. But when she sighs into my mouth, parting her lips in welcome invitation, I can’t stop myself.
I deepen the kiss, tongue sweeping inside to taste her properly. She responds with eager submission, letting me control the pace as I explore every inch of her sweet mouth. My cock twitches inside her, already stirring with renewed interest as she makes those little whimpering sounds I love.
One hand slides into her hair, gripping the wild red curls to angle her head exactly how I want it. The kiss turns harder, more demanding, as I claim her mouth the same way I just claimedher pussy. She yields beautifully, melting beneath me as I devour her with increasing intensity.
Her hands stroke my back, tracing patterns that somehow manage to be both soothing and arousing. Even this simple touch carries deeper meaning—acceptance, trust, affection. Her unconditional surrender continues to humble me.
The kiss goes on and on, neither of us willing to break this intimate connection. I pour everything I can’t say into the kiss—all my possessive need, fierce protectiveness, and overwhelming love for this extraordinary woman who has completely transformed my life.
Eventually, reality intrudes. My phone buzzes with messages requiring attention, responsibilities beyond this bed demanding acknowledgment.
I moan as I pull my semi-hard cock from her warm pussy, instantly missing the feel of her around me. But duty calls. I kiss her temple before reaching for my device, knowing Zeke will have updates about the ongoing situation in Columbus.
Francesca’s death has drawn attention from various factions hoping to expand their influence. Some formerly neutral parties now actively seek alliance with our coalition, while others test boundaries to assess potential weaknesses. Most concerning is news that Nicolo Moretti himself plans to take over and “maintain stability” in Columbus’s criminal landscape.
Naomi notices my tension, propping herself on an elbow to study my expression. “Bad news?”
I consider deflecting, protecting her from complications that technically don’t concern her. But she’s earned the right to know what affects us both.
“Nicolo’s coming to Columbus,” I explain. Understanding dawns in her eyes. She knows enough about our world now to recognize the implications. “Could complicate things.”
She’s quiet for a moment, fingers still moving absently across my chest. “Because of Francesca?”
“Partly.” I catch her hand, bringing it to my lips. “She was a valuable lieutenant in his organization. Her death creates instability he’ll want to address personally.”
“Will he blame you? Us?” She’s asking if we’re still in danger, if our hard-won peace remains threatened.
“No.” I infuse the word with certainty I mostly feel. “Francesca overstepped, made moves without his approval. Her death can be justified through her own actions.” I don’t mention that Zeke has already begun that process, ensuring our actions appear legitimate within criminal hierarchy governing such matters.
Naomi absorbs this information with remarkable composure, considering the context. Two weeks ago, she was a civilian thrust into a violent confrontation. Now she discusses criminal politics with understanding.
“When?” she asks finally.
