Page 37 of Kneel with the King
The feel of strong, large hands on the back of my head. Pumping the base of a thick cock, swirling my tongue around a thick, purple head, tastinghim.
Fuck.
I shudder as my balls draw up, as I imagine how he’d hold my mouth in place andfuckit—hard, deep, solely for his pleasure.
The feel of his cock beginning to pulse with his release. The taste of his cum, the sounds of his groans, the way his fingerswould claw into my skull, not letting me go, not letting me up for air…
“Fuck, King,” I gasp, heady sensations rippling over every nerve ending of my body.
I’msoclose—my balls tighten, cock hardening, and then?—
“Don’t touch what isn’t yours.”
His voice cuts through the fogexactlyas I come.
I choke on the sound, my release crashing through me in a full-body jolt. My orgasm tears itself out of me with a groan I don’t have time to swallow. The feeling is so intense that my knees buckle, and I squeeze my eyes shut. The only sounds are the heavy splats of my cum hitting the carpet.
When I open my eyes a few seconds later, he’s there. Leaning against the doorframe.Watching.His dark eyes are nearly black, swallowed by his dilated pupils.
My hand is still on my cock, and my chest rises and falls in sharp, frantic puffs.
Shame doesn’t evenbeginto cover it.
My cheeks burn like I’ve been slapped, heat roaring into my face as I cover myself with the robe, wrapping it tightly around my body.
“Jesus—fuck—how long have you been standing there?”
He steps into the room slowly. “Long enough.”
I yank the robe tighter around me. “Get out.”
He doesn’t move. He’s dressed in dark sweatpants and a dark green sweatshirt. The rugged-looking jacket he’s wearing plus the violent expression on his face only makes him look more like a predator than he already is.
“You seem… worked up,” he says, voice like velvet. His jaw tics.
My heart is racing. My cock is still hard under the robe, traitorous and aching despite coming.
“Fuck you. You don’t get to do that,” I grit out. “You don’t get to walk in and—fuck with me like that.”
He walks closer, each step heavy with dominance. “You said my name.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
He gives me a slow, knowing smile. “Liar.”
“I didn’t—this has nothing to do withyou.”
“Don’t insult both of us by pretending it doesn’t have everything to do with me.”
He’s right in front of me now. Not touching, but close enough that I can feel the gravity of him.
I lift my chin, defiant even with shame crawling up my spine. “So what, you’re jealous? You wanted to help me or something?”
His gaze drops to my lap. “No. But you wanted me. And you took it. Without asking.” Then he meets my eyes again, and the arousal swirling in his irises makes my mouth go dry.
My stomach flips. I can’t speak, and my breath is an uneven mess.
He leans in just slightly. Not enough to touch. Just enough to intimidate me.
