Page 34 of Cannon (King Family Saga #3)

“Gorgeous,” I said honestly. “Very sophisticated.”

Cannon nodded his agreement. “Very nice.”

ZaZa beamed at the compliment. “Marcus is meeting me downstairs in five minutes.”

“Remember—”

“I know,” she cut me off, grabbing her purse. “And I took my meds already, before you ask.”

I stood up and gave her a quick hug. “No drinking. Have fun. Be safe.”

“I will.” She pulled back, then looked between Cannon and me with a knowing smirk. “You two have fun too.”

Before I could respond, she was out the door, leaving behind only the lingering scent of her perfume and the echo of her laughter.

“She’s something else,” Cannon said, shaking his head.

“You have no idea,” I replied, collapsing back onto the couch. “Some days I want to strangle her. Other days I’m just terrified for her.”

Cannon moved closer, his thigh pressing against mine. “She’s got a good mother looking out for her. That counts for a lot.”

I turned to face him, suddenly aware of the quiet in the apartment, the emptiness. Just the two of us now, alone with nothing but time and the heat building between us. I’ve wanted him since I had him last night. And I wasn’t going to fight it. I leaned in to kiss him.

The kiss started slow, a gentle exploration, but quickly turned hungry, desperate. His tongue swept into my mouth, claiming me, while his hands roamed my body, squeezing, caressing. I climbed onto his lap, straddling him, feeling his hardness press against my core through our clothes.

“Bedroom,” I gasped against his lips. “Now.”

He stood up with me still wrapped around him, my legs locked around his waist as he carried my thick body down the hall. The display of strength made me even wetter, my body responding to his raw masculinity like a match to gasoline.

In my bedroom, he laid me on the bed with surprising gentleness, then stepped back to pull his shirt over his head.

I drank in the sight of him, broad shoulders, sculpted chest covered in intricate tattoos, abs that looked carved from stone.

The light from my bedside lamp caught the gold in his skin, making him look like something divine, too beautiful to be real.

“Take your clothes off,” he commanded, his voice rough with desire. “I want to see all of you.”

I obeyed, pulling my top over my head, then shimmying out of my leggings. His eyes burned as I unhooked my bra, letting my breasts spill free. When I hooked my thumbs in the waistband of my panties, he stopped me.

“No. Leave those. I want to take them off myself.”

He knelt at the foot of the bed, his large hands wrapping around my ankles, slowly sliding up my calves, my thighs, spreading my legs wide as he moved between them. The look on his face as he stared at my center, still covered by the thin fabric of my panties, was pure hunger.

“I’ve been thinking about this pussy since the first time I had it,” he growled, his thumbs tracing the edges of my panties. “Thinking how tight it feels around my dick. I’ve been wondering how sweet you taste.”

I whimpered, arching my back, desperate for his touch. “Then stop talking and do something about it.”

His smile was dangerous as he hooked his fingers in my panties and slowly pulled them down my legs. “Patience, Queen. I plan to take my time with you tonight. And I’mma teach you a lesson about talking to me like that.”

When I was finally naked before him, he pushed my thighs wider, exposing me completely. I should have felt vulnerable, but instead I felt powerful, watching his eyes darken with lust as he looked at me.

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmured, lowering his head.

The first swipe of his tongue made me gasp.

The second had me clutching the sheets. By the third, I was moaning his name like a prayer.

He devoured me like a starving man at a feast, his tongue exploring every fold, every sensitive spot.

When he sucked my clit between his lips, I nearly came off the bed.

“Fuck, Cannon!” I cried out, my hands finding his head, fingers tangling in his waves.

He growled against me, the vibration sending shockwaves through my body. His strong arms wrapped around my thighs, holding me in place as he worked me with his mouth, alternating between broad strokes of his tongue and gentle suction on my clit.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured against me. “Let me hear how good I’m making you feel.”

I couldn’t have held back if I tried. My moans filled the room as he slid two thick fingers inside me, curling them to hit that spot that made me see stars.

The dual sensation of his fingers pumping inside me while his tongue worked my clit was too much.

I felt my orgasm building, a tidal wave gathering force.

“I’m gonna come,” I gasped, my thighs beginning to tremble.

“Come in my mouth,” he demanded, his voice vibrating against my sensitive flesh. “Let me taste all of you.”

His words pushed me over the edge. My back arched as pleasure exploded through me, hot and all-consuming.

I cried out his name as my body convulsed, my walls clenching around his fingers while he continued to lick and suck, drawing out my orgasm until I was shaking, oversensitive, begging him to stop.

When he finally raised his head, his lips were shiny with my arousal, his eyes wild with need. He crawled up my body, his hard dick pressing against my thigh as he captured my mouth in a searing kiss. I could taste myself on his tongue, and it was filthy and perfect.

“I need to be inside you,” he growled against my lips. “Need to feel this pussy gripping my dick.”

“Yes,” I breathed, spreading my legs wider for him. “Fuck me, Cannon. Make me yours.”

He positioned himself at my entrance, the thick head of his dick stretching me as he pushed forward. I gasped at the intrusion, my body still sensitive from my orgasm.

“So fucking tight,” he groaned, sinking deeper. “Like your pussy was made for me.”

When he was fully seated inside me, he paused, his forehead resting against mine. For a moment, we just breathed together, connected in the most intimate way. Then he began to move, slow, deep thrusts that had me moaning with each stroke.

“You feel so good,” I whispered, my hands roaming his broad back, feeling the muscles flex beneath my fingers. “So fucking good.”

His pace increased, his hips driving forward with more force. I wrapped my legs around his waist, changing the angle so he hit that spot deep inside me with every thrust. The room filled with the sounds of our pleasure, skin slapping against skin, my moans, his deep grunts.

“This pussy is mine,” he growled, his hand wrapping around my throat, squeezing just enough to make my pulse race. “Say it.”

“It’s yours,” I gasped, the pressure on my throat intensifying the pleasure coursing through me. “I’m yours, Cannon.”

Something flashed in his eyes at my words, something possessive and primal. He released my throat, grabbing my hips instead, lifting them off the bed to drive even deeper.

“Touch yourself,” he commanded. “I want to feel you come on my dick.”

I slid my hand between us, finding my clit, rubbing in tight circles that matched his rhythm. The combined sensation was overwhelming, and I felt another orgasm building rapidly.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice strained as he fought his own release. “Come for me again, Queen. Show me who this pussy belongs to.”

His words pushed me over the edge. I came with a scream, my body convulsing around him, my walls clenching his dick in pulsing waves. He followed seconds later, his rhythm faltering as he buried himself deep inside me, his release hot and pulsing.

“Fuck, Queen,” he groaned, his body shuddering above me. “Goddamn.”

We collapsed together, a tangle of limbs and sweat-slicked skin. He rolled to the side, pulling me against his chest, his heartbeat thundering under my ear. I felt boneless, completely undone, more satisfied than I could remember being in years.

“That was…” I began, but words failed me.

“Yeah,” he agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “It was.”

We lay in comfortable silence, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back. The weight of the day, the confessions, the emotional nakedness, the raw physical connection, settled over me like a blanket. My eyelids grew heavy, the steady rhythm of Cannon’s breathing lulling me toward sleep.

“Rest,” he murmured, his voice rumbling through his chest against my ear. “I got you.”

I surrendered to exhaustion, feeling safer than I had in years, wrapped in the arms of the most dangerous man I’d ever met.

I don’t remember drifting off, but I woke with a start, my heart hammering against my ribs. The room was pitch black except for the red glow of my alarm clock, 3:17 AM. Something felt wrong. The warmth that had been wrapped around me was gone, the space beside me empty and cold.

“Cannon?” I whispered into the darkness, my hand reaching across the sheets, finding nothing but emptiness.

I sat up, pulling the sheet around my naked body as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. He had left me alone, and this damn near broke my heart. I reached for my phone to find that he did leave me a text message saying that he had some things to handle. And that he would speak to me later.

I stared at the text until the screen dimmed, his words burned into my eyes. Had to handle something. That could mean anything in Cannon’s world, blood, bullets, or both.

The bed felt bigger without him, colder, emptier. I pulled the sheet tighter, pretending it was his arms, but it wasn’t the same. Sleep wouldn’t come back easily. Not with my mind racing and my chest aching like I’d let myself want something I was never supposed to touch.

For the first time in years, the silence in my apartment didn’t feel like peace. It felt like loss.