“Good?” he asked roughly as he went back for more and then smeared it over my bottom lip. He didn’t give me time to answer. Instead, he leaned over to suck the sweetness from my mouth.
I was panting when he finished kissing me, and I could feel myself leak from my sex and pooled over the counter like spilled caramel.
“King, please.”
“I love the way you say my name. Like a zealot reveres the name of her deity.” He dipped to his knees, still tall enough that he was eye level with my dripping wet pussy. “Fuck me, what a sight. What do you think is sweeter? You or the caramel?”
I gasped as he painted warm candy on top of my clit and then laved it with his tongue. It felt electric, as if he was rubbing raw energy over my sensitive flesh. I bucked up into the heat of his mouth, needing him to shock my clit until I burst open into that elusive orgasm, but he only played with me, adding caramel to my outer lips and sucking them into his mouth, then swirling his tongue as if licking droplets from a leaking faucet.
“Sweet and salty,” he rumbled against my inner thigh as he used his caramel-free hand to sink two fingers inside me and twist in a way that made my back arch and my toes curl.
He folded my legs farther back, pressing me open like a book for him to read, to study and dedicate to memory so that he could recite the taste of me, the smell of me anytime he wanted.
“Oh my God,” I chanted as he worked those fingers and his tongue in perfect harmony, playing me so easily it was almost degrading how quickly I needed to come. But it was exactly that edge of shame that made me cry out and spasm around his fingers, shouting to the ceiling just to release the wild ecstasy coursing from my core.
He lapped at my cum, running his tongue from my taint all the way up and over my clit. I shuddered as he moved over my sensitive pussy, but I still ached for something more.
“Please, I need you inside me,” I told him, using my hands in his hair to drag him up to standing and my legs to hook around his back and bring him close.
I reached down with one hand to undo his jeans and take his hot, steely flesh into my hand. A groan escaped before I could think to stop it, and my mouth watered at the feel of him as I notched his leaking crown against my entrance.
He ran his hands through the sides of my hair and rubbed his thumbs over my cheekbones. “You want me inside you, babe?”
I nodded, tipping my head back as he worked his mouth over my ear and across my jaw.
“You want to feel me stretch open this beautiful pussy?”
A whimper as I felt myself grow even wetter.
“Want me to show you with my body just how much I fuckin’ worship you?”
“Yes,” I cried out as he surged inside, seating himself completely inside me.
I writhed against him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders to hold on as he clasped one hand on my ass and kept the other in my hair to hold me still while he pumped into me. It seemed almost unnatural how much I craved the connection between us, how feeling him inside me felt like a key fitting into a lock, and the real me burst through, darkly, maddeningly greedy and possessive for every drop of King he could possibly give me.
“Come inside,” I urged, clawing at his back just feel a moan move through him. “I want to feel you spill hot and deep inside me.”
“Fuck,” he cursed viciously, head tossed back and eyes squeezed shut in a motif of exquisite pain. Then he groaned so deeply it moved through both of us like the roll of thunder, and he was coming inside, cock thumping, hips grinding, and I was coming with him.
I gasped into his feasting mouth on mine, shuddered against his body, and shattered, waves breaking open on the intractable shore. It felt so natural to give in to those desires, to ride them all the way to completion, and then, because I was obsessed with him, with us, to dreamily imagine the next time we could come together like that again.
King pulled away and brushed a damp lock of hair off my forehead. He was so utterly lovely, so deeply beautiful, the sight of him almost made me believe in God again, because only a divine hand could have made a face like this.
“You have this way of lookin’ at me,” he murmured huskily as he continued to card his hand through my hair. “Lookin’ at me like I’m the sun and you’re fucking dazzled by me.”