Page 26 of King of Desire (Kings of Las Vegas #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Honeyeh

I load my clothes into the closet, aware of how my cutoff jean shorts look ridiculous next to Triston’s designer suits.

He lounges in the doorway watching me.

I feel my cheeks heat. Does he notice the difference in our clothing? Does he care?

Duffel empty, I stuff it into a bin and straighten. The closet is larger than my bedroom in my and Darius’s apartment.

It’s so big, there is an island in the center with more cabinetry and a countertop. I run my hand over the smooth stone. “What do you use this for?”

“Folding,” he answers.

My brows lift. His laundry is sent out and comes back folded every week. I stop, my fingers dancing over the surface.

This counter is like so many parts of this house. It looks beautiful and it’s meant to be functional but it’s for show. “Has it ever actually been used?”

“Are you judging me?” he asks, his voice growing even deeper.

I blush. Here I am worried about my clothes and how inferior I look. The idea of me judging him… “Trust me, I’m not. I’m just marveling…”

“At how much I have that I don’t use?” Triston pushes off the doorframe, still shirtless. I watch him stalk toward me, a flush climbing up my chest.

“Everything in your house is perfect. I’m surprised you’d want me here messing it up.”

He stops just in front of me, and dips down, wrapping his arms under my backside and lifting me up. My hands automatically wrap around his neck, my legs around his waist.

His lips find mine, his kiss slow but intense, before he whispers against my lips, “I want you to mess it up so good, baby.”

I smile, even as he kisses me again.

He turns us both and sets me down on top of the counter, the cool stone touching my bare skin.

I shiver, his hands climbing up under the T-shirt I’m still wearing. He spreads his palms over the small of my back, bending me back as his hips settle in the cradle of mine.

The kiss gets deeper, more erotic as his tongue tangles with mine. I trace my hands down the muscles of his back learning every angle, delighting in each ripple.

His strength fills me with some security that I’ve been struggling to find on my own. He leans forward and I naturally flow back until I’m lying on the counter.

He pushes back up, pulling the shirt I’m wearing up and over my head. Stepping back, he takes my underwear off next. I push up on my elbows, my hair flowing over the counter as I meet his gaze.

“Spread your legs.”

I do, feeling the intensity of his gaze as it travels down my body, zeroing in between my thighs. “We’re keeping you waxed,” he rumbles as he brings both his hands to my knees, spreading me even wider. “Fucking hell, Honeyeh.”

I’m not sure what that means, but I assume it’s good as his thumb brushes over my already throbbing clit.

My head falls back, my chest pushing up as I cry out.

“You’re so beautiful.” But he stops massaging me with his thumb. I lift my head to protest, just in time to see him drop down on his knees and then lean forward, lapping exactly where his thumb had just been.

Pleasure surges inside me, a keening moan falling from my lips. He keeps working me until I’m panting, my legs so open to him that my thighs ache.

But I’m mindless now, threading my fingers into his hair as I pull him closer.

I’m so close I can feel the orgasm when he stops, surging up on his feet.

“Triston,” I protest, reaching for him. “Please.”

He smiles, his eyes hooded and dangerous as he lines his hips up, sinking slowly inside me. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll give you what you need.”

This time, there is no pain, only pleasure as fills my insides, pleasure sparking hot and deep. He doesn’t stop until he bottoms out.

My back arches to take even more of him in, my hands rising over my head to grab the lip of the counter.

His hands wrap around my waist as he pulls me even tighter against him, rubbing my clit in a way that sends tendrils of pleasure radiating out.

A mewling cry falls from my lips as he pulls out and then surges back in, repeating all the feels.

I’m mindless now as my body climbs higher and higher, the pleasure so intense a half sob falls from my lips.

He pounds into me, his jaw hard enough to cut glass until with one final surge, I break, falling over the edge as an orgasm rips through me.

He pumps into me a couple more times, but I’ve hardly come down from the pleasure when he pulls out of me and flips me over, my feet landing on the floor, my breasts crushing into the cool counter.

But I’ve hardly got my weight recentered when he pushes inside me again, this time going so deep, I gasp.

“Fuck,” he spits out the word, just holding inside me for a moment. Two. Then he grabs my hips and pulls out only to pound in again.

It’s rough and fast and animalistic. But my insides light with fire at all the friction and soon, I’m barely hanging on as I start to climb again.

My body can hardly take it, it’s so good. My toes curl into the thick carpet, pushing up to take more of him. “God, Triston. Oh God, you feel…” I can barely get out the words, the thrusts making my voice come out in halting gasps.

And then he lets go of one side of my hip to reach around and press his finger to my clit.

It’s the final straw that breaks me and I scream out again, another orgasm stealing my breath.

He roars behind me, his thrusts losing all their art, as he breaks too, cumming inside me.

I go limp on the hard counter, my body so spent, two espressos can’t keep my eyes open.

Triston collapses on my back, kissing my neck and shoulder. “Sweetheart,” he murmurs against my skin. “Do you have any idea how good you feel?”

“None,” I sigh out. “But I know how good you feel.”

He lets out a small chuckle as he lifts off me again, pulling me off the counter and into his arms.

Carrying me into the bedroom, he settles me back on the bed, his body wrapping around mine.

But he’s hardly settled me on the bed when I close my eyes, falling sound asleep.

I have no idea how long I’m out, but I wake to the feel of Triston’s fingers dancing down my arm.

I jerk awake. “Ho lo?”

He laughs. “Hello to you too.”

I shake my head, trying to clear the cobwebs and make my tongue work. “How long was I asleep?”

“Four hours.”

“Four hours!” I cry, bolting up, which makes me dizzy. I tilt to the side and Triston catches me.

“Slow down. Everything’s all right.”

I lean back again, closing my eyes, trying to give my body and brain time to adjust. “I should check on Darius.”

“He’s fine and…” He kisses my temple. “Your clothes arrived.”

“My clothes?” Is it just the grogginess? He’s lost me again.

“Remember I mentioned I wanted you to dress as my personal assistant rather than a maid? I ordered clothes. They arrived.”

His assistant. That feels like a lifetime ago and I wince as I push away. I’m his assistant. His employee.

Rising from the bed, I head for the bathroom, hoping to hide as I collect myself. I can’t forget my role in this house.

He even paid for the sex. That makes me cringe.

Because somewhere after orgasm number three, and falling asleep in his arms, it has felt way more personal.

But if I wanted a moment, I don’t get it. He gets up and follows. “I’ll get you another cup of espresso.”

“Just show me how to use the machine and then I can make the coffee for you.” I don’t look at him as I stop in middle of the bathroom. “Is it all right if I use the shower?”

“Of course,” he answers, and I catch the slight furrow of his brow. But I turn away, opening the glass door and reach for the knob.

The water is instantly hot, and I step in, going to close the door behind me but Triston is there, hand on the door.

“My brothers are all arriving in the next hour,” he says as he steps in. “Including my eldest brother.”

“The duke?”

“That’s right. His flight should be landing shortly.”

I dip my head under water, trying to puzzle this out. “Did he already have a flight booked?”

“No. He was able to find a friend with a private jet who’s bringing him over.”

“Private jet?” I reach for the shampoo, feeling as though I am in deep over my head.

“We’re working on buying our own. Next on the list,” Triston says, turning on a separate sprayer as he wets himself down. “I want you to meet him.”

“Why?” I ask, a weight settling in my belly.

“Because,” he turns back to me then. “You are part of this too.”

Right. I’m the reason that a major deal is about to fall through. His family surely hates me.

I’m the maid who managed to detonate a major real estate company. I scrub out my hair, applying the expensive conditioner. I might as well look good as I face the jury.