by Imani King
He clinks his against mine then sips. We stare into each other's eyes, and I’m struck again by how beautiful he is. It’s mind blowing how good looking and well shaped his face is. He meets the Golden Ratio perfectly; I can’t spot a single flaw. He smiles, and even his teeth are perfect.
“You sure you want to do this?” he asks.
Tilting my head, I look at him in surprise. “Do you ask all the girls that?”
“No,” he says, taking another drink. “Never actually.”
“Then why me? Why now?”
He purses his lips then shakes his head. “I have no idea.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re different,” he shrugs. “I don’t know entirely why.”
“That’s a strange thing to say.” I feel vaguely offended, and I don’t quite understand why.
He shrugs again.
“If you don’t want to do this…”
“Oh I do,” he says and motions openly to the bulge in his pants. “Believe me I do. It’s just, you’re different.”
“You keep saying different.”
“Yeah,” he agrees but doesn’t elaborate. It hits me that he might not know exactly what he’s talking about. The way he says it makes me incredibly nervous.
I walk away from him and go to the window. The view across the water is peaceful. A few minutes pass then he walks up behind me. His arms wrap around my waist and pulls me back against him.
“How about we take this slow?” His voice, filled with desire, comes in a harsh whisper.
“Sure,” I say, gulping. “I think we can do that.”
The butterflies in my stomach like slow. No need to rush into anything right? This is a one-time thing anyway. Relax, enjoy it, then go back to my life once the week is over. Or the remains of my life and pick up the pieces but tonight is this. No stress, no worries, just a fun time. I’m not sure I’m ready for sex with another man.
His fingers work the buttons on my blouse exposing my stomach to the cool air. His warm hands touch my skin, and it’s like they’re on fire. A shudder runs up my spine causing me to grind into him, driving his cock into me. He groans, and I respond in kind because it feels so damn good.
He runs his hands down over my pants and cups my mound, pressing in while grinding his cock against my ass. Every touch plays my body like an instrument. Desire is clay in his powerful hands. The spring coiling in my core winds tighter. I lean my head back onto his shoulder and he kisses down to my shoulder, across my collarbone, and around to the front of my neck. We sway against each other, and I can feel his hard length pressing against me. The very act of his embrace lets me know what I’ve been missing with Roger. Waves of anticipation wash through me, butterflies and nervousness I don’t get when it comes to Roger. Kian steps back.
“Shit,” he says, walking back to the bar and pouring himself another drink.
“What?” I ask, frustration and confusion mingling.
He stares at himself in the mirror behind the wet bar. “I can’t do this.”
“What?” I’m repeating myself, but now embarrassment is replacing the frustration. My cheeks flush hot as I pull my shirt closed over my stomach. Kian doesn’t turn around. I watch him take a long drink without answering me. “I think I should go.”
He finally turns and looks at me. I can’t read the look on his face.
“Don’t,” he says. “Please.”
I stop halfway to the door. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”
“Me either,” he says and I can hear the honesty in his voice. “I feel like I should get to know you first, or something.” He gives me a confused look. “I don’t even know. Trust me. I’m usually the one trying to dissuade women from all the talking.”
“How about you let me decide what I do? My body, my choice. And all that jazz.” I cock my head to the side and put one hand on my hip. The flurries are still rushing through my body. I’m not about to let this opportunity go.
He frowns, his brow furrows, then he nods. “Smart, like I said.”
“It’s not smart, it’s called not being a sexist dick.”
He shrugs. “I can’t deny I am what I am. Maybe not the sexist part. I do like women. And you in particular.”
He’s too close. The air leaves the room, and I can’t catch my breath. His stunning eyes stare into mine, half-lidded, heavy with his desire. His strong, muscular arms reach for me and, God help me, I fall into them. Our lips touch, soft, gentle, but as they do, an electrical storm ignites across my nerves. Lightning shoots from my lips out to my extremities racing for my core. The tightness of my desire and primal need becomes overwhelming. I want him so damn much I can’t think straight. All the strange actions, the words, the things that should make me hate him only work to make me want him more.
His hands touch my ass, and his touch is the spark igniting flames. My skin burns beneath him with exciting new levels of want. His tongue forces its way past my lips, dominating, invading my mouth to taste me, taking what he wants. I give him everything. I want to. I want him to take me, claim me. Just for tonight, I want him to make me his.
Our bodies intertwine, and he moves us through the suite without breaking our kiss. Our hands roam across each other’s bodies. His body is a delight to explore. Hard, muscular planes with bulges in every place imaginable. He’s a sculpture of perfection. The couch hits my backside, stopping our motion. He kisses me hungrily, moving from my lips down my chin and along my throat. My pulse races, jumping under the touch of his tongue. His mouth moves back to mine and our lips press into each other as our tongues trace one an another.
I’m on sensory overload, my body running on overdrive. Kian tilts my head back, my mouth falling open with a solitary sigh, and he kisses me just behind the ear. The touch of his fingers on the small of my back sends tingles radiating from every inch of my tortured body.
He leans in, forcing me back until I lose my balance and we fall together over the back of the couch and land on the cushions in a heap. Our mouths barely part as we tumble over. He lands on top of me, his hard cock now pressing hard against my most private place. His hands roam down my legs while his greedy kisses continue to taste my lips. My fingers twine in his soft hair twisting. My hips grind up as he presses his rock hard cock against the cloth dividing us from joining.
I’ve never been more excited, more turned on, than I am right now. Roger doesn’t hold a candle to the passion of Kian. My body reacts to every touch. I want and need more. He works one hand between us finding the fasten of my pants, which he undoes expertly, then the zipper is sliding down, and his hand is moving across my panties. When he reaches my slick wetness, he moans and breaks our kiss
“Beautiful,” he breathes before our lips meet once more.
His fingers move across my panties rubbing up and down my wet opening as he creates a light pressure against my throbbing clit. It’s not enough--I need more. Gyrating my hips I try to force him to penetrate me, but he moves in time with me, continuing to tease. Rising up from me, our eyes lock and he smiles. God, I could melt into that smile, lose myself in those eyes, and damn me if he doesn’t know it.
Deft fingers unbutton my blouse. He has a half-grin, and his eyes light up as he reveals my honey-brown skin. My shirt falls open to either side, exposing my breasts to the cold air. My nipples harden to diamond tips then he takes his thumb and forefinger to each of them teasing. He moves his hips in a slow circle so the base of his shaft is grinding down onto my clit. My eyes roll back into my head. My poor body can’t stand the overload of sensation that’s carrying me away. Stars explode in my head, and I’m on the edge of an orgasm already. One that I know will be more explosive than anything that I’ve experienced in my life.
He kisses me, his lips pressing against mine then his rough tongue is dragging slowly across my cheek following the natural line down to my collar and over to the base of my neck. Alternating kisses with nibbles, he moves between my breasts, massaging them in both
of his hands as he moves down across my stomach. When he reaches the band of my panties he hooks his thumbs into the waistband, and he slides them down with my jeans and tosses to them to the floor.
He licks up my soaking wet opening from bottom to top. His tongue moves side to side pulling my delicate folds apart as he moves up. He laps at my wetness, soaking it up and going back down for more. His tongue probes this time, driving into the folds, finding each delicate section and opening them like a budding flower. He doesn’t leave a single piece untouched by his hunting tongue.
My core is tighter than anything I’ve ever experienced. Moans slip out of me and my hips gyrate up into his face. My fingers tangle into his hair. It’s not a conscious decision. Pure instinct and need drive me, my body reacting to impulses older than time itself. Conscious thought and decision left behind when he claimed me.
As he approaches my most sensitive place, the anticipation builds. Panting, I pull him closer, tighter, trying to move him toward my hard nub of pleasure. He moves with my direction until he’s directly over it. His tongue teases a slow circle and it feels like I’m gushing moisture out as he does. When he flicks across it, a cry rips out of me from my core. Wordless, almost soundless, my back arches up and my hips thrust into him forcing his tongue hard against me.
I’m falling into a field of exploding stars. My body quakes, consciousness leaves, and I’m left panting and sweating as I fall into the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had. His hands hold my hips, cupping my ass pulling me up tight and supporting me as the muscles quake. The waves of pleasure explode out then race back as fresh waves emerge from the core. The waves crash into each other and where they do the muscles jump in response. I’m shaking, too weak to hold myself up, dependent on him.
He lowers me to the couch as it passes and I start to regain control of my body. He trails over my body with soft kisses. I shudder under each one, my nerves over sensitized. When he reaches my lips we kiss and I can taste myself. It’s new and different and ignites desire fresh again in my body. We kiss as the final tremors of the orgasm passes, and at last, I can move without fear of my muscles giving out.
Putting my hands on his chest I rise into him pushing. He rolls with my guidance until I’m on top of him on the couch. The kiss continues, my tongue now probing his mouth, finding his as I claim him for myself. My fingers work the buttons of his shirt and begin to explore the present I’ve unwrapped. I knew he was strong—I’d felt the hard planes of his body through the cloth—but seeing it is like unwrapping your first Christmas present. It’s stunningly beautiful and sexy. My fingertips trace the lines across rock hard washboard abs to the belt of his slacks. His hard cock strains against the fabric, and I gasp in anticipation.
The fasteners give way then there is only a pair of dark purple silk boxers that are tented straight up past the open zipper of his slacks. Grabbing the elastic, I slide them up and over slow in a stage show reveal move. The swollen head of his cock comes into view. He’s massive.
I look up across the flat, hard planes of his stomach and chest into his beautifully stunning eyes. Moving slow, I scoot my way up his legs until my mouth is just over his cock. It jumps as my breath touches it. I follow the breath with the tip of my tongue tracing one of the veins from the base of the shaft up to the head. At the head, I follow the line around using only the tip of my tongue. He moans as I work, and I can taste the faint saltiness of his essence as my tongue glides against his smooth skin.
His hands claw at the couch trying to find purchase as I continue to tease him with my tongue. I work slow, building the anticipation the same as he did with me. I want this to last.
“Damn,” he exhales.
I swirl my tongue around the shaft as I slide the head back towards my throat. I swallow slightly, my muscles working against the head of his cock.
“Ah,” he moans, and his hips thrust softly up into me.
I let him go deeper, reaching down between my legs and rubbing small circles around my clit. The tightness in my core is back and rising with his cock in my mouth. I can’t stand the pressure and desire.
Faster. My tongue moves against his skin, my hand wrapping around his shaft. As he fucks my mouth and throat a fresh orgasm is building. He thrusts up crying out my name as I take him deep and then I fall into a new orgasm of my own. His seed pumps out as every muscle of my body tenses and I’m carried through on the waves of pleasure tearing their way through my body.
I slide off of him, crawl up next to him and put my head on his chest. He wraps an arm around my shoulders and in moments we’re both asleep.
***
The sun in my eyes wakes me up. I stretch, and my eyes fly open when I feel his legs against my feet. His chest rises and falls without pause. He’s sleeping. Regret floods my thoughts, and panic overwhelms my body.
I’ve cheated on Roger—or I'm not with Roger anymore, am I? It's so easy to forget.
But still, I slept with a stranger that I picked up at a bar. God, I’m terrible. His arm is wrapped around my shoulders. Shifting, it falls limply to one side. Watching him, I slide off the couch to the floor then stand up. Moving as quiet as possible I grab my clothes and slip them on turning my back to fasten my bra. He grabs my arm and I yelp.
“Morning,” he says sleepily.
“Good morning,” I say, putting on my bra then slipping my blouse on and covering myself as quickly as I can.
“Stay,” he says, rising onto an elbow and rubbing his eyes with his free hand.
“I can’t.”
“How about breakfast?”
“No. I need to get back to my friend,” I blush.
“Okay, how about you go out on my yacht with me this afternoon?”
“I’m sorry I can’t. Thank you, but we’ve already got plans,” I lie.
I pull away from him and walk towards the door.
“The offer stands,” he calls to me. “Bring your friend—it’ll be fun.”
“I’ll see,” I say, rushing out the door before he can say anything else.
CHAPTER FOUR
Watching her walk out the door leaves me feeling empty. The way her ass sways as she walks, the fact that she refused breakfast leaves me lonely. I must be sick. When has it ever been a bad thing that a girl left first thing in the morning? My problems have always been the opposite—I can’t get rid of them!
I roll off the couch and pull on my pants, then go to the kitchen. A glass of juice in hand I walk to the window and stare out at the horizon. The door to the suite opens and Aidan stumbles in.
“Hey,” he mumbles.
“Morning, rough night?”
“Heh,” he replies, going into the kitchen.
I listen as he pours himself some juice then joins me at the window.
“How was your evening?” he asks.
“Good.”
“Well good for you,” he grumps, drinking his juice. “That girl… Eva… well. Never mind.”
He sounds like shit, voice hoarse, eyes sunken, and his shoulders are slumped.
“What?” I ask.
“You ever wonder what the point is?”
“Point? Point to what?”
“This,” he motions with his hand turning to take in the entire suite with the sweep of his arm.
“It’s us, what other point is there?”
“Exactly, what is the point?” he asks.
“Damn, you're depressing.”
“Maybe,” he shrugs.
“We’re the Royal family. Our job is to be figureheads. We are the representation of our people.”
“No, I’m the figurehead, Kian. You’re the odd man out that no one really expects anything out of. You get away with whatever you want. I’m left to be the serious one.”
“Wow, harsh,” I reply.
“Yes, but it's true and you know it. I’m the one that has to marry a noble. I’m the one they watch and want to know who I spend time with. Every move evaluated, considered, talked about. You may be the darling
of the paparazzi with your wild, bad boy ways, but that’s okay. You’re not the next in line. Nobody has the expectations of you that they do me.”
“So you’re saying I’m the screw-up younger brother?”
He grins, motions towards me with his juice then nods.
“If the shoe fits, dear brother,” he replies, taking another long drink then sighing. “If the shoe fits.”
The truth of his words hit home. I’m man enough to know he’s right. I have no illusions about my role in the world. I’ve reveled in it. The riches, the women, the parties—I’ve done it all. It’s left me empty. Alone—with no one I can just talk to. I can have a girl any minute of the day or night ready to do unspeakable things with me. I can’t get one who will talk to me like I’m just a guy. One like Abby.
“It’s not all fun and games,” I say at last.
I sit down on the couch and put my feet up on the coffee table.
“Sure, different girl every night—hell, every hour—don’t deny it I’ve seen you do it,” he says, sitting down across from me and cutting off my attempt to refute him.
“Well, that was only once. And I’m always safe. And clean.”
“Sure, that makes it all better,” he laughs.
“Not really, does it? You might be right about my bad boy ways. Could be time to take a break.”
Leaning back into the overstuffed couch, I stretch. I’m stiff from sleeping on the couch. My left arm more so than the rest of me. The arm where she laid her head all night. The scent of her hair comes back to me clear as if she was right here with me. Coconut, something else tropical. Soft curls, falling in tendrils over her face. Intoxicating.
“Screw it, Kian. I have to marry a noble woman. Might as well resign myself to that. I don’t get to be carefree like you.”
“Nope, you don’t,” I jab at him. “Why, are you planning on marrying Eva? She looked like she was about to slap you when Abby and I were leaving the club.”
He looks at me over his glass, pursing his lips, his eyes narrow.
