Page 7 of King
I stroke the backs of my fingers along the left-hand side of his face. I press my mouth against his lips and bite down as his balls push against my ass cheeks.
“You like that?” I say.
He puts a hand on either side of my hips and squeezes my ass. “Fuck, yeah,” he says.
“Good.” Slowly I lift myself off his cock, until just the tip of his dick is inside me. I look into his eyes the whole time. My face is so close I can feel his breath on my skin. “Now sit back and let me do all the work. You’ve done enough for one day.”
A cheeky grin spreads across his face. “You’re the boss,” he says.
I twerk on his dick, starting off slow and then picking up the pace as the passion consumes me.
Someone starts banging on the door. “Hello?” they shout. “What’s going on in there? This door is not allowed to be locked. It’s against hospital regulations!”
“Go away!” King yells.
They keep knocking on the door and shouting. Soon, I can hear multiple people outside. Like they’re having a little conference about what to do and how they can unlock the door.
“Why can’t they leave us alone?” I say.
“Ignore them.” King grabs my ass and thrusts up, deep inside me.
His cock grows bigger and harder. Come shoots into my channel. My nails tear flesh from his neck and his chest. I scream his name over and over again. The bed shakes beneath us, threatening to collapse under our collective weight and the fury of our lovemaking.
And then I crumple on top of him. I feel like a deflated balloon. My hair’s a mess and there’s sweat running down my face and I couldn't be happier. King’s chest hair tickles my cheek.
“Hey, babe,” he says, “my shoulder.”
I jump up, suddenly afraid I’ve hurt him. “Shit, sorry,” I say.
“It’s alright,” he laughs, cradling my face in his hand. It’s hard to imagine that we only met last week. Somehow, I feel like I’ve known this man all my life.
The people outside the door start banging again.
“You think I should let them in?” I ask.
“No,” he says.
“They’re being quite annoying. “
“I don’t care,” he says, kissing me softly. “I love you, and I don't want to share you with anyone.”
Epilogue
Marilyn
One Year Later...
“You can’t be serious?” Steph’s standing in front of my desk with her mouth hanging open. “You want me to be CEO?”
I can’t help but smile. I’ve been picturing this moment ever since I came up with the idea. It’s even better in real life than what I imagined in my head.
“That’s right,” I say.
“But,” she stammers, “b-b-b-but... that’s crazy! I don’t know the first thing about running a company.”
I raise an eyebrow. I’d expected her to say something like this. “Oh, really? And what exactly do you do every day when you come to work?”
“I arrange meetings. I deal with suppliers and distributors.” She ticks each item off on her fingers. “I talk with designers and the marketing team and I negotiate advertising space.” She trails off halfway through her list.
