“Thanks.”

His head dipped forward, his chin at my temple and his nose and lips in my hair. He inhaled deeply, and a shudder ran through me. He felt it, leaning on me even harder then. I was so wound up I thought I might melt into the wall. The way his body felt was causing my heart to race and my head to fill with images. My bed was right there. How easy would it be for him to throw me down on it and take me?

In that moment, I wanted to be taken.

“I keep thinking about last night and kissing you,” he murmured. I gasped sharply when he took my earlobe into his mouth and gently sucked. His tongue slid along the shell of my ear, and tingles radiated down my spine.

“Oh, God.”

He continued tonguing my ear, then shifted his body so I could feel his hardness pressing on my stomach. I wanted to moan, but bit down on my lip to keep it in. Oliver was just downstairs, and I didn’t want him to hear.

“I want you so badly. I wanted you from the very moment you walked up to me that day in the circus.” His words provoked the memory of him standing abruptly from his chair and walking towards me like I was the only thing he saw. How he’d touched me almost reverently, his fingers tracing my features like he didn’t believe I was real.

I moved a little, squeezing my thighs together to dull the ache he’d created. He noticed, and his lips began to curve into a smile. “What’s wrong, love?”

I stared at his throat. “Dinner. I need to go down and check on the food.”

“The food is fine.”

“It could burn.”

“It won’t. I want to touch you.”

I lifted my gaze, meeting his fierce eyes, and whispered, “Then touch me.”

The second the words left my mouth, his hands flew to the waistband of my trousers, undoing the fly and venturing inside. His fingers slid beneath the elastic of my underwear, and then he was feeling me, his touch warm and probing. We both trembled. He fingered my slit, then sank further, exploring my folds, and I felt my entire body spasm at the contact. I was soaking wet already, and when he found my opening and drove inside, I had to bury my face in his shoulder and bite down to keep from screaming. All at once he was filling up years of emptiness, and it was too much.

My body went limp, but his strength held me up. He moved his fingers slowly, fucking in and out as his eyes sparkled, soaking in my reaction. My nipples grew hard, rubbing almost painfully against the fabric of my bra. King continued to finger me, his thumb coming up to rub circles into my clit. I undulated beneath him, letting out a sigh that he captured with his mouth. There was no gentleness in his kiss. It was hard and demanding, his tongue moving in unison with mine, sending my every nerve ending into a tailspin. I was completely open to him as he explored.

“You feel incredible,” he gasped, breaking our kiss for a split second before his lips were back on me. His thumb circled my clit one more time and I came in an instant, shivering and shaking against him. He let out a low groan as he kissed me, and it vibrated through me as the waves of my orgasm crashed over me like a tsunami. His kiss grew gentler, until he was nibbling at the edges of my lips, allowing me to enjoy the after effects. I was vaguely aware of my embarrassment, since I’d just been victim to the female equivalent of premature ejaculation. King didn’t even seem to be aware of how quickly I’d come, though, so I didn’t dwell on it. I met his kisses, exploring his jaw and then his neck. He groaned when I licked at his earlobe, just like he’d done to me.

My hand had just started to move along his stomach in the direction of his crotch when a voice called from downstairs.

“Something’s beeping, Mummy!”

My hand paused its exploration as I dropped my head to his chest and sighed.

Twenty-Two

 

I became aware of several things at once. One, my son was downstairs – our son was downstairs. Two, I’d just let King finger-fuck me to within an inch of my life, and I wanted to take things further. Three, I didn’t have time right then to take things further (sad face.) And four, I really did need to check on dinner.

I drew away from King, voice breathy. “I should go down.”

“Yeah,” he said, a little breathless himself.

I was aware of him going inside the bathroom to wash his hands instead of following after me. In the kitchen, I busied myself by turning off the oven and checking to make sure the roast was cooked through. I knew it was since the timer had gone off, which accounted for the beeping. Still, I checked it all the same, mostly to keep from thinking about what had just happened. It was weird, because I certainly hadn’t forced his hand down my pants, but I had this ridiculous notion that I was taking advantage of him. I wasn’t, of course. I’d never do that, but it was just how I felt. Probably because he was still in a state of recovery.

When King came downstairs a minute later, he went inside the living room to Oliver. I listened to them talk as I dished up the food, smiling at my son’s never-ending questions and King’s bemusement at the random small talk. I could tell he was completely besotted, though, and it made my heart soar.

After a couple of minutes, King came in and silently began setting the table. I cast him a look of thanks, and we worked together quietly for a couple of minutes. Once everything was ready, I called Oliver in, stuffing a napkin into his collar because he was a messy eater. All the while I was aware of King watching my every move, like how I cut Oliver’s meat into small pieces, or how I reached over and dabbed some apple sauce from his mouth at one point.

Every once in a while I’d look up from my food and catch his eyes on me. His attention made me flush, because it was obvious that he was thinking about what had just happened between us in my room. When we were finished eating, King insisted on doing the dishes, so I brought Oliver upstairs for his bath. By the time I had him in his pyjamas and ready for bed, the kitchen was spic and span.

I’d just walked in when King was drying his hands with a tea towel. Stepping forward, I went up on my tiptoes and placed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Thanks,” I whispered. It was nice to have someone else do the dishes for a change.

“No problem.”

“I was going to read Oliver a bedtime story. Do you want to come sit?”

A thoughtful look crossed his face before he cleared his throat and asked, “Would you mind if I did it? Read him the story, that is?”

I studied him, surprised by the request. “Of course not. I’ll tell you what — I wanted to take a bath myself, so how about I do that and you read to him?”

King’s answering smile took my breath away. “That sounds like a plan.”

I tried not to be disgruntled when Oliver acted pleased as punch to discover King was going to read him his story. If it didn’t make me so happy, I might have been jealous by how quickly they’d taken to each other. But then again, they were father and son. It was only natural for them to have a connection. The thought suddenly made me get a little weepy (happy tears, of course), so I quickly went to run my bath. Didn’t want King seeing me acting like a hormonal mess.

His voice trickled in from down the hall as I settled into the warm water. It made me ache for his touch and to have him whisper naughty things in my ear. I had a sudden urge to touch myself, but I resisted. His voice just did strange things to me. I’d gotten out and dried myself off when I heard him close Oliver’s bedroom door and quietly step out into the hall. Quickly slipping into a robe, I opened the door and found him standing there, staring at the floor in consternation. When he looked up, he took in my appearance slowly, and my tummy did a little flip-flop.

“Hey,” I whispered. “Is he asleep?”