Page 93 of Making the King

The moment I show my impatience, Rocco stops moving. “Beg me,” he demands.

I shake my head.

“That’s okay,” he rasps. “I can wait.”

It’s frustratingly true. Rocco is way too patient for my liking, especially when it comes to denying me. Last year there was a time I thought I could outwait him, but after two days I admitted defeat and begged him to finally let me come. While it was the best orgasm I’ve ever had, I’m not sure it was worth it.

“But I can’t,” I retort. I bite down on my lip to stop myself from letting my temper get the better of me. “Please touch me again, mi rey.”

Rocco groans and thrusts his cock against my ass before pulling me into the living room, where he immediately sits down on the couch.

“Strip for me, Killer.”

The heat in his eyes has me gasping, and wetness spreads between my folds. Fuck, how can he turn me on with his look alone?

When I nod, he pulls his phone out of his back pocket and puts some music on. As the sensual tones reach my ears, I sway my hips to the beat.

The leather crop top I’m wearing has a zipper between my tits, and I reach for it. Slowly lowering it until my breasts spill out.

“No bra,” Rocco rasps, licking his lips as he undoes his jeans.

I’m so transfixed by watching him lift his ass and pull his pants and boxers down that I forget to breathe. His cock juts out proudly from his body, bobbing as he pulls his shirt over his head.

“Fuck,” I breathe when he stands completely naked in front of me.

“Not yet,” he smarts, sitting back down. He wraps his hand around his length, stroking it slowly. “And not at all if you keep me waiting.” His husky tone causes a shiver to work its way down my spine.

I close my eyes, centering myself as I become one with the music. I palm my tits, pinching the nipples before sliding my hands down my flat stomach, all the way to my skirt. Rocco’s eyes stay on mine as I unfasten the skirt, letting it pool at my feet.

After stepping out of the fabric, I turn around so my back’s to Rocco. I bend all the way until my palms meet the floor. Then I pick up the skirt, doing it slower than I need to so I can taunt him with the view.

“Keep the boots on,” Rocco rasps. He loves my thigh-high stiletto boots almost as much as I do.

I throw the skirt to the side and drop to my haunches. My hands go to the soft globes of my ass, and I spread them as the sound of Rocco jerking off becomes louder.

“Mi rey,” I moan. “Come play with me.”

I barely have time to breathe before he’s behind me, wrapping my long hair around his fist.

“Get on all fours. Now.”

Moving while he holds my hair like that isn’t easy, but I manage. And I’m rewarded with his fingers sliding between my folds.

“Rocco!” I cry out as he moves two digits inside me.

He picks up the pace, fucking me so good with his fingers. As he curls them inside me, I begin to shake, unable to hold back.

“Come on my fucking hand, Killer,” he demands, and I do.

As the orgasm tears through me, Rocco replaces his fingers with his cock, sheathing himself in one, hard thrust.

I’m fucking soaring. Instead of coming down from my orgasm, it feels like his movements build on it. I move one hand between my legs, eagerly finding and rolling my clit.

Rocco moves his free hand to my shoulder, holding me in place as he fucks me with long, hard strokes. He pulls almost out before slamming back inside me.

“Your pussy feels so fucking good, Killer,” he groans. He pulls on my hair and uses the other hand to pull me up so my back is to his front and I’m almost sitting in his lap. “Ride me until your pussy squeezes the cum from me.”

My breath hitches and I begin to move. Rocco nuzzles against the crook of my neck, nibbling and licking the skin. My body is hot, and I’m covered in a sheen of sweat.

---