Page 121 of Guarded King

“Y-yes,” I whisper.

The hand working my breast disappears, and the sound of a zipper cuts through the deafening thump of my heart. The next moment, he pulls his fingers out of me, leaving me achingly empty.

Before I can protest the loss of him, the slick sound of him lubricating himself with my arousal reaches my ears. I whimper, and then his hands are back, his thick shaft gliding between the cheeks of my ass.

“Look what you’ve made me do,” he growls against my neck, the heat of his breath sending a shiver through me. “I wasn’t planning to come yet. I wanted to feed you first, show you this isn’t just about sex, but you make me crazy. I can’t fucking help myself.”

The way he groans the last words has a fresh surge of arousal spilling out of me.

The grind of him behind me, the coolness of the glass, the dizzying view, and his hands on me—inme—is an overdose of stimulation. I’m already so on edge, it doesn’t take more than three strokes of his fingers before I detonate, my orgasm sending a shock wave of pleasure through me. Caged between his hard body and the window, I writhe and pant and come.

Roman grunts, pulling me tighter against him using the fingers still buried inside me. With a curse, he rides out his own orgasm, scalding spurts of cum splattering against my lower back and sliding wetly down my ass.

I press my burning cheek against the glass and breathe. My galloping heart slows along with his movements.

“Don’t move,” he says.

I obey, focusing on the way my breaths fog the window. Behind me, there’s a soft rustle of fabric, then he’s wiping his cum off me with his T-shirt.

When he’s done, he takes me by the shoulders and turns me. His pale gray eyes gleam with a feral kind of amusement as he looks down at me. “You turn me into a damn teenager.”

With a shaky laugh, I slide my hands over his biceps. “I don’t think a teenager would have ever made me come that hard.”

The corners of his mouth curl up. “Let me show you around. We can start with my shower.”

I bend down, reaching for my clothes, but he grasps my arm, stopping me and pulling me upright again.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“I’m getting dressed.”

He arches his brows. “You’re just going to have to get undressed again when we get to the bathroom.”

Strangely enough, considering what we’ve just done, the thought sends nerves skittering over my skin. “I feel weird walking naked through your apartment.”

With his hand tangled in my hair, he tips my head back. The warmth in his usually cool gaze makes my heart flutter. “You don’t want to walk through my apartment naked?”

Feeling ridiculously shy, I shake my head.

Without warning, he picks me up and tosses me over his shoulder.

“Roman!” I shriek as he strides across the large room.

“What? You said you didn’t want to walk naked.”

“This isn’t what I meant, and you know it.”

He laughs, and regardless of my current embarrassment, the genuine unguarded sound coming from him, a sound I couldn’t have imagined hearing when I first started working for him, has my heart more than fluttering. It’s free-falling.

Whatever happens between us, I’ll never regret hearing Roman King laugh like that.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

ROMAN

Restless, I shift in my chair. The sky is blue, the sun is shining, and bees are buzzing from flower to flower at the border of the south lawn. The gardens of our family estate in Westchester are impeccable, thanks to a team of gardeners. Our monthly family lunches, the ones we dreaded but maintained for appearances’ sake, are far more enjoyable since Dad’s no longer a part of them and Delilah and Violet are here instead.

The food will undoubtedly be delicious, and the wine in our glasses is dry and refreshing, but I can think of several things I’d rather be doing than having lunch with my family.