Page 24 of Cannon (King Family Saga #3)

Queen

I leaned forward and kissed him, my body moving before my mind could catch up. But instead of kissing me back, Cannon’s hand shot up, wrapping around my throat with just enough pressure to stop me. His eyes darkened as he held me there, suspended between his body and the wall.

“Nah,” he said, his voice a dangerous rumble. “You don’t get to decide when this happens.”

My pulse throbbed against his palm. “What the fuck do you mean I don’t get to decide? It’s my mouth.”

A slow, predatory smile spread across his face. “And it’s my dick you want in it. So we play by my rules.”

Heat flooded my body, anger and arousal mixing into something explosive. I should’ve slapped him, fired him, kicked his ass out of my office. Instead, I felt my panties dampen as his grip tightened just enough to make my breath catch.

“Let go of me,” I whispered, but there was no conviction behind it.

“You don’t want that,” he replied, his thumb stroking the side of my neck. “What you want is for me to bend you over that desk and fuck you till you can’t remember why you were upset. Till you can’t remember your own name.”

Fuck. He was right.

“But first,” he continued, leaning close enough that his lips brushed my ear, “I want to hear you beg for it.”

“I don’t beg,” I spat, even as my body betrayed me, pressing closer to his.

“You will.” The certainty in his voice made my knees weak. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be begging me for everything.”

His free hand slid up my thigh, pushing my dress higher until his fingers brushed against the lace of my panties. I gasped, trying to shift my hips to guide his hand where I needed it most, but his grip on my throat kept me pinned.

“Already wet for me,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the damp fabric. “Tell me what you want, Queen.”

I pressed my lips together, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“Have it your way,” he said, suddenly releasing me and stepping back. The loss of his touch was like a physical pain.

“Where are you going?” I asked, hating how desperate I sounded.

“Nowhere.” He settled into my office chair, spreading his legs wide, the bulge in his pants impossible to miss. “But you ain’t getting shit until you ask for it. Nicely.”

I stood there, my chest heaving, my body on fire. This motherfucker really expected me to beg? Me? Queen Marie Davenport?

“Fuck you,” I said, but even I could hear the lack of conviction in my voice.

He just smiled, those ocean-blue eyes burning into mine. “That’s the idea. But you gotta say please.”

I took a step toward him, then another, until I stood between his spread legs. Power shifted like quicksand beneath us. He might be sitting, but he was the one in control, and we both knew it.

“Touch me,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s not asking nicely,” he replied, his hands resting casually on the armrests. “Try again.”

My pride warred with the throbbing between my legs. Five years without a man’s touch, and now my body was screaming for this one.

“Please,” I finally said, the word burning my throat on the way out.

“Please what?” His voice was pure sin.

“Please touch me, Cannon.”

His hands moved then, sliding up my thighs, pushing my dress to my waist. “Where?”

I grabbed his wrist and guided his hand between my legs. “Here.”

He yanked his hand away. “That’s not how this works. You don’t control shit right now.”

Before I could respond, he stood up, towering over me. In one fluid motion, he spun me around and bent me over my desk, my papers scattering to the floor. His hand pressed between my shoulder blades, keeping me pinned as he lifted my dress.

“Goddamn,” he growled, his free hand squeezing my ass. “Been thinking about this since the first day I saw you.”

I felt him pull my panties to the side, his thick finger sliding through my wetness. “Look at this pretty pussy, all wet and ready for me.”

I moaned, pressing back against his hand, desperate for more.

“You want my fingers inside you?” he asked, circling my entrance teasingly.

“Yes,” I gasped.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir.”

He slid two fingers inside me, so deep I saw stars. “Fuck, you’re tight. When’s the last time someone fucked this pussy right?”

I couldn’t answer, too lost in the sensation of his fingers curling inside me, finding that spot that made my legs shake.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, his thumb pressing against my clit as his fingers worked me. “Too long.”

I felt the familiar pressure building, my walls clenching around his fingers. Just as I was about to come, he pulled out completely.

“No,” I whimpered, turning my head to look at him. “Please.”

“There it is,” he said, satisfaction evident in his voice. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

I heard the sound of his belt unbuckling, his zipper lowering. Then the head of his dick pressed against my entrance, thick and hot.

“Tell me you want it,” he demanded, one hand gripping my hip.

“I want it,” I gasped. “Please, Cannon. I want your dick inside me.”

He pushed in slowly, stretching me inch by inch until I felt so full I could barely breathe. When he was buried to the hilt, he leaned over me, his chest against my back, his lips at my ear.

“This pussy is mine now,” he growled. “You understand me?”

I nodded frantically, beyond words.

“Say it,” he demanded, pulling out almost completely before slamming back in.

“It’s yours,” I cried out, the words torn from me as he set a punishing pace. “Fuck, it’s yours!”

His hand found my throat again, applying just enough pressure to make my head swim as he fucked me harder, the desk creaking beneath us. My breasts bounced against the hard surface with each thrust, nipples sensitive against the cool wood.

“Look at you,” he growled, his free hand reaching around to rub my clit. “Taking this dick so good. You gonna come for me?”

I was already close, the dual sensation of his dick stretching me and his fingers on my clit pushing me toward the edge. “Yes, yes, yes,” I chanted, my voice breaking.

“Then come,” he commanded, pressing harder on my clit. “Come on this dick right now.”

My orgasm hit me like a tidal wave, my body convulsing around him as waves of pleasure crashed through me. I screamed his name, not caring who might hear, not caring about anything but the ecstasy consuming me.

He fucked me through it, his pace never faltering. When my body went limp beneath him, he pulled out suddenly, flipping me onto my back. Before I could catch my breath, he was inside me again, his hands gripping my thighs as he spread me wide.

“I want to see your face when I fuck this pretty pussy,” he said, his strokes deep and deliberate now. “I want to watch you take every fucking drop.”

The new angle hit something deep inside me, and I felt another orgasm building impossibly fast. His thumb found my clit again, circling it with expert precision.

“Please,” I begged, beyond pride now. “Please make me come again.”

“That’s it,” he growled, his rhythm faltering as his own release approached. “Beg for it.”

“Please, Cannon, please,” I cried, my nails digging into his arms. “I need it.”

He leaned down, capturing my mouth in a sexy kiss as he drove into me one last time. I felt him pulse inside me, felt the heat of him filling me as my second orgasm ripped through me, even more intense than the first.

For a moment, we stayed like that, joined together, both of us panting. His forehead rested against mine, our breath mingling in the small space between us. The weight of him on top of me felt right somehow, like he belonged there.

“Fuck,” he finally said, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it. He pulled out and came on my thigh.

“Yeah,” I agreed, unable to form a more coherent thought.

He pulled away slowly, both of us wincing at the sensitivity.

I watched as he tucked himself back into his pants, zipping up quickly.

I should’ve felt exposed, vulnerable, sprawled across my desk with my dress around my waist. Instead, I felt…

claimed. Marked. Like something fundamental had shifted between us.

“You good?” he asked, his eyes scanning my face.

I nodded, finally finding the strength to sit up. “Yeah.”

He reached out, his thumb brushing gently across my cheek. The tenderness of the gesture after the roughness of our fucking caught me off guard.

“Next time,” he said, his voice back to that dangerous rumble, “we’re doing this in a bed. Where I can take my time with you.”

Next time. The promise in those words sent a shiver through me.

“Who says there’s gonna be a next time?” I challenged, but we both knew it was bullshit.

His smile was slow and knowing. “Your pussy just told me.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the tension between us breaking. “You’re so fucking cocky.”

“With good reason,” he replied, reaching down to adjust himself in his pants.

I stood up on shaky legs and cleaned his nut off of me. “This doesn’t change anything. I’m still your boss.”

He stepped closer, his hand finding my throat again, but gently this time. “Keep telling yourself that, if it makes you feel better.”

Then he was gone, closing the door behind him, leaving me to wonder what the fuck I’d just gotten myself into.

The club finally closed around 4 AM. The last drunk patron had been shuffled out, the dancers had collected their tips and disappeared, and I’d spent the final hour avoiding Cannon’s glances from across the room.

Every time our eyes met, I felt that pulse between my legs start up again, reminding me of what had happened in my office.

I drove home with the windows down, needing the cool night air to clear my head.

But nothing could wash away the feeling of his hands on my body, the ghost of his fingers around my throat.

I could still feel him inside me, stretching me, filling me.

My thighs were sticky with the evidence of what we’d done.

“Get it together,” I muttered to myself, gripping the steering wheel tighter. But my body was still humming, still high off him like he was some kind of drug.

When I pulled up to my building, the lights were on in the apartment. ZaZa must still be up. That girl never slept at normal hours. I needed to get myself together before facing her. The last thing I needed was my daughter picking up on what had happened tonight.

I let myself in quietly, dropping my purse on the entryway table. The sound of running water told me the shower was on. As I approached the bathroom, I heard ZaZa’s music playing inside.

I headed to my bedroom, peeling off my dress that still smelled like Cannon. I’d have to wait for my shower. Maybe that was for the best. Give me time to come down from this high.

On my way back to the kitchen for some water, I passed ZaZa’s room.

The door was partially open, and something caught my eye.

A small flash of foil in her trash can. I shouldn’t have looked.

I should’ve respected her privacy. But maternal instinct kicked in, and I found myself pushing the door open wider.

There it was. An empty condom wrapper, crumpled but unmistakable.

My first reaction was relief. Thank God she was being safe. My second was anger. Who the fuck had she brought into my house?

I backed out of her room, trying to control my breathing. I couldn’t flip out on her. Not after everything she’d been through. But we definitely needed to have a conversation about boundaries.

But for now, let me just enjoy the bliss of Cannon’s essence still on me.