Page 86 of The King's Maiden

“What if I don’t want you to be gentle?” I sassed back.

That earned me a low growl from his throat. His arms flexed with restraint, and when that sent tension rippling up his forearms, he flashed me some serious vein porn.

But there was no time to drool over it. I whirled around, grabbing the canister of whipped cream from behind me. He used my momentary distraction to bolt around the island.

His arms wrapped around me in a bear-hug-slash-tackle, and I shrieked as he barreled into me. I brought the can up between us. Lifting me off my feet, his arms tightened around me. And my hands clenched reflexively.

Whipped cream sprayed everywhere.

His chin, my face, his neck, both our chests—the shock of it pulling a cry of surprise out of me and a deeper growl out of him. My shriek dissolved into uncontrollable laughter as the carnage continued to rain all over us, until he finally wrestled the can from my grip.

He tossed it aside, pinning me against the fridge as streams of whipped cream dripped down his face.

I snorted, more laughter bursting free. Fully unable to help myself, my hands came up and smeared the mess into his hair.

He returned the favor by rubbing his face all over mine, spreading the cream over my lips, my eyes, and somehow managing to get some up my nostril.

“Ack!” I cried out, pushing him away to wipe at my nose.

Tears of laughter mixed with the sticky sweet cream on my face. It dripped down my neck, and I glanced down just in time to watch it slide into the v-neck collar of my sleep shirt.

He saw it, too.

Every ounce of playfulness evaporated from the room.

His hands found the hem of my shirt.

Mine found the waist of his pants.

He tore my shirt up and over my head, spinning us around. My fingers fumbled over the drawstring at his waist and tugged it free.

Walking us to the island, Landon pressed my body backward just as my hands wrapped around his straining cock.

I wanted him inside me—right then. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t supposed to let things get that far. It didn’t matter where we were or who could walk in and see us.

I wanted to feel him more than I cared about anything else.

But he had other ideas first.

Flattening my back on the island, he clambered on top of me as he kicked free of his pants—the ones I’d shoved down to his ankles. He growled at the snicker I hid behind my hand and pinned my thighs between his knees.

And when his mouth sealed over my breast, he wiped away the last traces of my laughter.

My back arched, seeking out his mouth. I planted my hands beside me and pressed up. He took the invitation, licking everydrop of whipped cream off my naked chest. Laving his tongue over my nipples long after I was clean. Sucking each pert bud into his mouth until I writhed beneath him—ready to scream if he didn’t give me more.

He released my right nipple with apop,humming appreciatively at my clean, bare breasts.

But a drop of whipped cream slid down his jaw and landed right on his blank canvas. Swiping a hand over his face and neck, he gathered the remnants there and scooped what he could from his shirt.

Then, he slathered it all over me again.

Diving back in, his hot, greedy mouth followed the path of his hand as it dipped between my breasts and lower down to my stomach.

Needy, desperate sounds left my throat as he descended.

His tongue stroked over my skin, circling my belly button, and running along the line of my panties. He gripped my thighs and spread my legs, sliding down my body and off the side of the island.

His face hovered over my slit, the thin barrier of my panties doing nothing to hide how much I wanted him. A murmur of appreciation rumbled from his lips. It reverberated deep in my core.

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