Page 36 of Coldhearted King

He’s been the one tasting her, making her whimper and tremble. The thought has my shoulders knotting. Not anymore. The asshole screwed up, and now I’m the one with his mouth between her legs.

I alternate sucking and flicking her clit, then slide a finger back into her. Her breaths are coming fast now, but so far, she’s kept quiet. That changes when I thrust another finger inside her. Her head falls back against the door. It doesn’t rattle, because it’s a solid fucking door. But it makes a thump.

I graze her clit with my teeth, then look up at her. “Quiet, Miss West, unless you want the entire office to find out you were in here with my tongue in your pussy.”

“Cole!” she gasps, her hands clutching my hair as I go back to licking and thrusting into her. I know she’s close when her hips begin rocking against me. “Oh my god, Cole. I’m going to come.”

Before she can, I swap, my thumb going to her clit, rolling over that swollen bundle of nerves in a fast rhythm while my tongue spears into her.

Delilah sucks in a sharp breath at the sensation, and the dual stimulation is too much. Her hands tighten in my hair, her pelvis jolts forward, grinding on my face, and then she’s coming. She makes little panting moans as her internal muscles spasm around me, and I groan against her slick flesh as I savor the arousal seeping from her.

When she sags back, I swipe my tongue over her one last time, then stand. I bring each finger that was inside her to my mouth and lick them clean, then rub my hand over my lips and chin. I’m not rubbing her off me. I’m rubbing her in. When I lean forward, my mouth hovering over hers, her eyes widen, probably thinking I’m going to kiss her. But I don’t. Because that’s not what this is about.

At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.

Instead, I swipe my tongue against her lips, groaning when hers darts out to follow the trail of mine. “Now when you walk past Paul, you’ll have the taste of us on your lips,” I growl.

I straighten, stepping back from her. She’s a glorious sight. Her cheeks flushed, eyes slightly glazed, skirt still clutched at her waist. I want to bend her over my desk and fuck her. But I close my eyes and breathe deeply to push the urge aside.

“Can I have my panties back?” she asks.

“No.”

She stares at me, but instead of arguing, she eases her skirt down her thighs, smoothing out the wrinkles. Then she fusses with her hair a little, avoiding my eyes.

I won’t let her get away with that, though. “We seem to be making a habit of revenge.”

Her gaze meets mine, and I’m not sure what I see in it. It better not be fucking regret.

“It won’t happen again,” she says. “I don’t want anything to do with Paul anymore. Not outside of work, anyway.”

I nod, satisfied to hear Paul is out of chances. Less satisfied that she’s stating this will be the last time I get to touch her. Having had another taste, I’m not sure I’ll be happy until I’ve fucked her again. Completely gotten her out of my system. But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

She finishes straightening herself out, and rather than lingering and letting her know that I’m not quite on board with her declaration, I return to my desk.

She watches me with a frown. “Aren’t you going to...uh, clean up?” Her eyes flick to my mouth, then my hand.

I smirk. “When Paul comes in, I want the hand he shakes to be covered in you.”

Her mouth drops open and her cheeks redden even more, but something flashes in her eyes, and I wonder if my little kitten doesn’t have a more vengeful side after all. Instead of protesting, she just rolls her bottom lip between her teeth and nods.

Sooner than I expect, she’s turning, opening the door, and slipping out. As much as I would love to watch her walk past Paul with no panties on, her face still flushed from her orgasm, that’s not how I do things.

Instead, I wait a few minutes, then push the intercom, asking Samson to send Paul in.

When he comes through the door, I’m waiting for him, my hand extended.

I hide a smirk as he shakes it. “Sit down, Paul.”

I gesture at the chair in front of my desk. After he sits, I round it to take my seat. Before I say what I need to say, I lick my lips, closing my eyes for a second to savor Delilah’s taste. I don’t care if it makes me an asshole. After all, it takes one to know one, and I knew Paul was an asshole from the moment I met him.

My silence must be making Paul nervous, because he shifts in his chair and fiddles with his tie. Then he clears his throat. “I’m not quite sure why you called me here today, Cole—” My raised brows make him choke. “Uh, I mean, Mr. King. If you’re looking for an update on the project, I don’t have anything prepared.”

“I’m not after an update from you. Delilah gave me everything I wanted.”

If only he knew.

A flash of anger crosses his face at the mention of his ex-girlfriend. I almost lick my lips again, but refrain.

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