Indebted To A King

by Lisa Lang Blakeney

  "Spread 'em," are the only words I need to say to remind her who's in charge.

  It's only natural that she tries to fight this. She's on full display for me. In my kitchen. Tits up high. Legs spread wide. Skin flushed with a mixture of satiety and need. This is hard for her. Relinquishing control. Trusting me to give her what she needs. That's why I'm taking this particular fix very seriously.

  I look in between her legs for a moment before I taste. Admiring the view. She is beautiful like I knew she'd be. I kiss the top of her mound. Then inhale. I smell a faint mixture of jasmine and musk. When I remember that her arms have been hanging for a while, I realize that I'm not going to be able to take my time with her like I want. I'm going to have to speed things up before she loses all feeling in her fingertips.

  I slide my hands under her ass and dive in. Hungrily eating out her pussy like it's the first time and the last. She tastes sweet and salty like caramel corn. I could stay in between her creamy legs forever, but her body is swaying with need and I know that I'm going have to give her what she wants fairly soon. She's tugging against the ropes. Arching her back to try and give me even more access. Another orgasm is building inside of her and it's building fast.

  She's holding her breath.

  She's about to blow.

  "Come for me, baby."

  And this time she doesn't scream. This time it's her body that's violent. Her body seems to bow as her body contracts in orgasm. Her ass lifts up high as she simultaneously squeezes my head together with her thighs. Pulling on the ropes hard. Eyes shut tightly. It's the most beautiful sight I've ever seen and it's scaring the shit out of me, because I know without a doubt that if I can, if she lets me, I want to make her feel like this every single night.

  I start to massage her thighs and press light kisses along her hips and stomach to bring her down. I start to work my way up her body and make sure to spend extra time at her breasts. She seems to like that a lot. As her breathing continues to slow down, I start kissing and massaging her arms, and then untying them from the rack.

  "Wrap them around me."

  I pick her up off the counter. Her arms around my neck. Her legs around my waist and I take her to the bedroom. I sit her gently down on my new cherry wood, four-poster bed, the only new thing I've ordered since moving here.

  "Sit and watch," I tell her.

  I take off my pants, and then my boxers, and watch her eyes grow with desire as my dick juts to life. I stand in my full glory while she stares back at me.

  "What do you want?" I ask her while I stroke myself as she watches.

  "I want you," she says.

  "Where do you want me."

  "Inside of me," she answers softly as I stroke harder.

  "How do you want me," I demand to know.

  Her eyes lower, so I lift her chin up with my hands.

  "How do you want me," I repeat.

  "From the back."

  Interesting choice.

  I move to the bed, pick her up, and flip her over.

  I surprise her by starting to eat her again from behind. It wasn't the plan, but I couldn't help myself. She tastes so damn good. I stop myself in between laps to smack her ass for good measure which makes her sopping wet. This is exactly what I need so that I don't hurt her as she gets adjusted to my size. When I think she's ready, I roll on a condom and get on my knees behind her and push in the tip.

  Fuck me, it feels good already.

  I try to restrain myself, because this isn't about my horny ass. This is all about Sloan and her pleasure. Plus I don't want to fuck around and scare her off. Now that I've gotten inside of her pussy once, I'll be damned if I'm not coming back for seconds. I push in a little farther and watch her body for a reaction. She's not moving much, so I must be a little snug for her.

  "Is my dick too big for this pussy?"

  Immediately I feel more slip inside of her.

  It's obvious that she likes it when I talk dirty.

  "Do you want this dick inside of you?"

  "Yes."

  "Then act like it."

  She starts to work her hips more. Moving them back as I slide in forward. My stroke getting deeper and faster. I think I made a mistake getting her going, because I'm literally going to come in two seconds if I don't slow down.

  I decide to sit up and lean back on my heels. Bringing Sloan in sort of a sitting reverse cowgirl position. It gives her more control as to how fast she will work me inside of her. It feels phenomenal. She continues working her pussy down farther until I'm almost totally inside of her. My eyes are practically rolling up inside of my head. I could die now and be totally fine with it. It's ecstasy.

  She's soaking wet now and she starts bouncing her ass up and down on me. Really getting into it. I hold onto her tits from behind and play with them as she continues to bounce and rock on top of me. Working herself into a frenzy.

  I burrow my head into her shoulder. Squeezing my eyes tightly shut. She's fucking the shit out of me, and I'm about to blow.

  "Sloan!" I growl.

  "Can you handle this pussy like a man?" she throws back my words at me. Turning me completely on. "Do you like fucking me?"

  "Dammit, yes!" I yell as she simultaneously yells a few expletives of her own as I drive myself as far inside of her as I can and we climax together.

  Sloan falls back against me. Shuddering. I'm kissing her neck, her shoulders and her back reverently. I am completely in awe of this woman. I've had plenty of good sex before, but this was something else. She turns around and there's a huge smile on her face. A smile that I proudly put there. The same smile I'd like to see tomorrow night and the next and the next.

  "I thought you didn't put out on the first date," I say in jest. Kissing her nose.

  She rolls her eyes and smiles. "That was fantastic, your majesty."

  "I know," I say in earnest as I toss the used condom in the trashcan with one shot. "I knew it would be. I was born to command your every orgasm."

  She pushes me down on the bed. Kissing my chest. Then farther down my body. Tracing my abdominal muscles with her tongue until she gets to my promised land. I thought she may be exhausted by our session, but it looks like we're just getting started. Aren't I the lucky one.

  "Let's play another game," she says as she starts to suck the life out of my cock. "If I can't make you come in under three minutes with just my mouth, then you get to ask me another question."

  Fuck me.

  "I think I like this game."

  Twenty-Four

  Sloan

  Elizabeth is in my bedroom stretching her back, while I sit at my French inspired vanity desk, humming to a Bruno Mars tune.

  "Look over my sketches while you stretch, Bitsy. You have to learn how to multitask now that you're going to be a mother. Let me know if there's anything you want to add to the design."

  "You're humming," she says with laughter in her voice.

  "So what?"

  "You never hum."

  "I like this song," I say defensively. Already aware of what she's implying. "A lot."

  I continue to carefully apply my overpriced serum and cream to my face making sure not to miss any part of my face or neck. The scrapes on my face are healing nicely, and I swear it's partly due to the fact that my skin is absorbing a coat of silky seaweed magic.

  I've been back in my apartment for a couple of days now. My hot water is working fine and my thermostat was replaced. With no excuse to come over and use his shower anymore, tonight I'm meeting Cutter at the tapas lounge per his request aka command for dinner. This is the third night in a row we've met to eat.

  These are not dates.

  I repeat these are not dates.

  These are dick appointments.

  We eat a good meal. We laugh a little bit. We exchange war stories. He tells me about how badly his brother and Roman are treating him in the business. I tell him how hard Regan is trying to shit on me at work or how much my little sister drives me crazy. And then we
go to his apartment or mine (mostly his) and bang each other's brains out.

  It's been incredible.

  It's been educational.

  It's been addictive.

  Tonight I decide to go with an overpriced pair of high-waist, skinny jeans that fit my curves like a glove and make my legs appear even longer because I always like to play up my best asset. On top I wear a one-shouldered, blush colored blouse which cinches at the waist. And to top everything off, I accessorize with a pair of open-toed, black stilettos along with a pair of simple silver hoop earrings and a few Alex and Ani bangles on my wrist. My overpriced outfit is simple but classy. Figure flattering but not over the top.

  "These sketches look great, Sloan. You did a lot more to them since we met at Java. Honestly, I forgot that you could draw like this. You're a great artist."

  "Thanks, prego. You want me to give you a quick massage. You look like you're struggling over there."

  "No, finish up what you're doing. You're putting a lot of effort in to your appearance tonight." She smiles. "Must be important."

  "I'm just happy that my scars are fading and my eye is only a little pink. I feel human again."

  "I don't think that's the only thing making you feel human again."

  "It's not what you think."

  "If you're meeting Cutter again tonight than it's exactly what I think. You're excited."

  "Oh hush."

  I've been growing out my pixie haircut and decide to wear my newly blunt cut hair down, sleek, and parted on the side so that some of it covers one of my eyes in a very old Hollywood glamour type way. I apply a neutral rose shadow to my eyes, cheeks, and lips but make sure to offset it with a bold swipe of black eyeliner across my top lids.

  "This doesn't match," I say out loud while staring at myself in the full-length mirror on my closet door.

  "What doesn't match?"

  "My hair and my outfit."

  "What are you talking about? You look great as usual."

  "I'm going to change."

  "I'm telling you, you look fine."

  I stare at myself for another moment.

  "No, it doesn't match."

  I go back into the closet and pull out my favorite dress. It's a wine colored, bodycon dress that pulls me tight in all the right places. The dress has a long slit up the left thigh and shows off my legs in a way that my high-waist jeans never could.

  "That's your "fuck 'em girl" dress."

  "Mind your business."

  "He's going to love it."

  "It's not for him, Bitsy."

  Lies. Lies. Lies.

  Once I'm satisfied with what I see in the mirror, I open my laptop and login to my work dashboard. I want to take a quick look at my sales figures. Thanks to Clark's order and orders from two other new clients that my team worked hard to woo, my numbers are up, and that puts a smile on my face.

  "My numbers are up."

  "Excellent. Do you think you'll beat Regan's team?"

  "It's possible but unfortunately this month's win may be at the expense of losing my best client. I've called Clark several times since our date to apologize for how our evening ended, but he's been "too busy" to take any of my calls and hasn't returned a one."

  "Maybe it's that Paige woman not delivering your messages. If she has a thing for the man, I wouldn't put it past her to try something like that."

  "I don't know. She's never done that before. She may be a bitch, but she's professional. Plus I have his personal cell number now. He hasn't returned those calls either. I'm not sure how I'm going to book a sales appointment with a doctor who refuses to talk with me. I think that I have to accept the fact that I may have lost his business because of one bad date."

  "That's what you're calling it? A bad date?"

  "What would you call it?"

  "Cutter practically peed all over the man that night, and I'm sure the hardest part of that for the good doctor to swallow is that you let him."

  I'm early but the tapas lounge is already packed. I've eaten here several times before but never on a Saturday. The hostess is adding a couple to the waitlist, so I look around to see if Cutter's arrived yet while I wait my turn.

  "Do you have a reservation, miss?"

  "Well, I'm not sure. I'm meeting one of the owners here. Mr. King."

  The hostess's eyes enlarge.

  "Which Mr. King?"

  "Cutter King."

  "Umm, he's not here," she stutters and practically chokes on her own tongue. "Let me check with my manager to see if he's on his way."

  "Thanks."

  A portly woman who's dressed in all black and has her hair shaved on one side and long on the other approaches me with the waitress lagging behind her.

  "Hi, Ms. Pearson. I'm Joan, the manager here. Let me show you to your table. Mr. King will be here shortly."

  She knows my name in advance. He gets cool points for that.

  "Thank you."

  I might be a little paranoid, but I swear that every employee in this place is watching me walk toward my booth. Maybe it's because I'm being escorted to it like I'm the Queen of England.

  "Can I get you anything while you wait, Ms. Pearson?"

  "I'll take a glass of your house Cabernet."

  "Coming right up."

  Soon there's a low hum in the room. That's how I know when he's arrived. I've seen this before. Everyone notices Cutter when he enters a room. He's hard to miss and difficult to turn away from.

  As usual he looks amazing. His hair is freshly shorn but he's letting his beard grow out, and he's wearing a gray henley that hugs his every curve with a pair of worn in jeans.

  When he spots me across the room, his face lights up, and in turn mine does the same. Before he can make it over to me, Joan stops him and whispers something in his ear. His face frowns for a moment but quickly changes back to a pleasant one the moment he slides in next to me in the booth.

  "Princess."

  "Landlord."

  "I love this dress."

  I smile inside thinking back to my conversation with Bitsy earlier. I totally lied to her. I did wear it for him. I'm glad that he likes it.

  "Thank you."

  "I can't wait to get you out of it."

  I blush from the comment. Now that I know that he can back up every dirty thing he's ever said to me, I tend to blush more often.

  "You know most people sit across from each other when they sit in a booth for dinner."

  He wraps his arm around my shoulder basically caging me in the booth, takes a sip of my wine, then offers me a sip as well. I drink.

  "I haven't seen you in twenty-four hours. Won't be inside of you for a few more. I'm sitting next to you. Need to be near you."

  God, his voice is deep and rougher than usual. Like sandpaper. As if he's had a rough night of drinking or something.

  "Give me my kiss."

  He leans over before I can say anything in response and kisses me softly with just a little bit of tongue. It's not as intense as some of our other "private" kisses, but it's tender and it still lights a fire inside of me.

  "You smell like jasmine."

  "It's my–"

  Before I can finish my sentence he discreetly slides his hand inside of the slit of my dress. His mouth turning completely up once he realizes that I'm not wearing any underwear.

  "You're going to be the death of me," he says gruffly.

  "Am I?" I tease.

  He gently rubs my clit as a punishment.

  "You want me to make you come in this booth?"

  "No," I whisper.

  "You sure?" He continues stroking me as I grow slicker.

  "Stop it," I say half-heartedly.

  "I'm hungry tonight." He grins as he pulls his hand away. "I'm going to order all of my favorites. Anything in particular you want?"

  "No," I say trying to calm myself down. "I'm good with whatever."

  Cutter raises his arm, waves his pointer finger, and all of a sudden, a server arrives to our table wi
th a menu and another glass of wine. Of course he winks at her. That seems to be his usual greeting to humans of the female persuasion.

  "Thank you, darlin'."

  "Do you want the usual, Cutter?"

  "Actually I'm a little hungrier than normal. I want the chef special."

  "Awesome."

  "How's your brother doing?"

  "Thanks for asking and for everything," she says thankfully. "He's doing a lot better. The doctors finally figured out what was wrong with him. It's an ulcer."

  "At his age?"

  "I know, right? But stress and stomach ailments run in the family."

  "Well then I will, I mean Camden will, keep a close eye on you. Make sure you're not over scheduled. You need your rest."

  A look passes over the waitress's face that is a mixture of worry and adoration.

  "Everything is fine as is. Please don't go changing anything around for my benefit."

  "As long as your happy."

  "I am, thank you." She turns to me. "Did you decide on what you want to order, miss?"

  "Just double my order, darlin'," he tells her.

  "Gotcha."

  After Cutter's biggest fan leaves to place our order we continue our conversation.

  "I'm curious. Do you even know her name?"

  "What makes you think that I don't?"

  "You called her darlin' about a hundred different times. Thought maybe you forgot her name."

  "Her name is Hazel August. She's been a waitress here for a little over a year. Her brother has been in and out of the hospital over the last six months, and the doctors weren't sure what was wrong with him, because he didn't have health insurance and the hospital would only do a limited series of tests. Once she hit her year anniversary of working here, I made sure to get her a family insurance plan which allowed her to add her brother."

  I'm stunned.

  "That was really . . . nice of you."

  "Nice, maybe. Smart, yes. It's not good business to have a lot of employee turnover, and a decent benefits package is the key to keeping people around these days. Hazel's a good worker."