Page 95 of Kneel with the King
“It won’t go down. I went to sleep hard, and I’m still hard. So, fuck you,” he adds, glaring at me.
I tilt my head. “Hmm. That’s too bad. I suppose you’ll have to wait a little bit longer.”
His mouth drops open as I grab my jacket, and as I open the door to the suite, I let my eyes float down to where his cock is pressing against his pants.
“One word of advice, Harrison… do not try to one-up me.”
His eyes darken, but not with arousal. With rage.Good.
“Fine. I know how to take care of myself.”
My free hand curls at my side, and when I look back at him, I drop the playfulness.
“Don’t,” I say, my voice low and even. “Don’t touch yourself.”
His brows shoot up. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” I step closer to the bed, leaning down just enough to bring my mouth to his ear. “You’re not going to come until I say so. Not with your hand. Not with anyone else’s. You want relief? You earn it from me.”
He lets out a disbelieving laugh, but it’s strained, his body shifting restlessly under my gaze.
“I’m serious, sweetheart.” I straighten up, letting my eyes sweep over him—his stretched-out body, the hard line of him pressing against his pants, the collar around his throat. “You try to one-up me, you’ll regret it. How about you think about what you’ve done to deserve getting off,” I add, knowing it’ll piss him off.
I need to walk out before I do something I’ll regret. But, of course, Harrison can’t keep his mouth shut.
“What I’ve done?” he says, voice all innocence but eyes sharp, like he’s testing me. “You mean besides let you torture me in a massage room and leave me like this for hours?”
My jaw tics. “Careful.”
He leans back on the bed, spreading his legs just enough that my gaze goes there before I can stop it. “You really think I’m going to sit here and not touch myself? That Iwon’tget off without you?”
My grip tightens on the jacket. He knows exactly what he’s doing—pushing, needling,daringme.
“Try me,” he says, his voice dropping. “Or better yet… stop me.”
That’s it. The jacket hits the floor, and I’m across the room in two steps. My hand’s in his hair before he can smirk again, yanking his head back so he’s forced to look up at me.
“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” I growl.
He grins, and it only makes me harder. “Guess not.”
I lean down and kiss him, hard and deep, biting at his lower lip until he groans into my mouth. Then I shove him back, climbing over him, my knee pressing between his legs.
His hands come up like he’s going to push me away, and I pin them to the mattress instead, leaning down until my chest is flush against his.
“You want me to stop you?” My voice is low, dangerous. “Too bad. I’m not going to stop you. Because, for whatever reason, I lose all sense of myself when I’m around you.”
The words land—I see it in the way his pupils blow wide, in the hitch of his breath.
I kiss him again, deeper this time, until we’re both breathing hard. My hands slide down his arms, grip his wrists tight one last time before letting go so I can get to what I want. His pants are gone in one hard tug, boxers shoved down just enough for his hard cock to slap against his stomach.
He’s already flushed, hard, and slick at the tip, precum beading against his abdomen, and the sight alone makes my teeth grit.
“Still so worked up from earlier,” I murmur, stroking once, slow and deliberate, watching his entire body tense, watching as his lashes flutter. And then I remove my hands from his cock.
“Fuck you,” he breathes, groaning.
“I’m not going to fuck you,” I mutter, smirking as I push him back against the pillows. “But I’ll give you something.”
