Page 68 of Sins of a King

He gave in, slipping one finger inside my core. I tightened and worked him against me. It wasn’t enough, and the bastard knew it. I pushed back, letting him know. We spoke the language of lust; words were unnecessary. Flynn removed his finger from inside me, and I gasped at the emptiness. But moments later, he was back, entering, filling me with his hard length.

The world was at my feet, and I felt powerful, unstoppable as I saw our dim reflection in the glass windows. He gripped my hips, ramming into me. My hand slipped up my skirt to play with myself while Flynn continued to assault my senses and body with his.

“Yes,” I moaned, feeling the peak of release coming. “Harder.”

He gave it to me. He claimed me, but I let him. Whatever I wanted, it was mine. I slammed a hand against the glass, the sound of it mingling with our cries of passion. I came with fierce abandon, bucking against him. He bit my skin where my shoulder met my neck, marking me before coming inside me.

We owned each other, completely.

We were on the carpeted floor of the suite, completely naked, clothes scattered about. I hitched a leg over Flynn’s and snuggled into his embrace.

“Your bed is too small,” Flynn said drowsily.

“You didn’t sleep well last night?” I asked.

“Not really. My legs hang off your bed, and your mattress is—”

“Don’t insult my mattress.”

“Are you attached to your apartment?”

I didn’t like where this conversation was going. “Yes, I’m attached to my apartment.”

His fingers skated up my spine, and I closed my eyes while I waited for him to drop the bomb in his arsenal. I didn’t have to wait long.

“You can have a bigger apartment.”

“Can I? How?” I asked, feigning stupid, but he didn’t buy it.

“You know how.”

“No.”

“No,” he repeated flatly.

“No, I will not let you pay for a bigger apartment just so your legs don’t hang off my bed.”

“The bed isn’t the only issue. All my clothes are here. I had to do the walk of shame in a wrinkled suit—and leave far earlier than I wanted to because I had no clothes at your apartment.”

“So bring over a few suits.”

“It’s not just a few suits. It’s shoes, and belts, and ties, and cuff links, and—”

“And I don’t have the space. That’s what you’re really saying.”

“Aye.”

“There’s another solution,” I said.

“What’s that?”

“When we spend the night together, we spend it in your suite. You get your bed, you get your suits, and you get your whole routine.”

“And what do you get?”

“Besides the walk of shame through your hotel lobby?” I teased. “Nights with you. And maybe room service in the morning.”

“I could give you a dresser drawer and some closet space. I have a lot of closet space.”