Page 114 of The Robin on the Oak Throne

“I’d never tease.”

“A bold-faced lie,” he said with mischief. “What am I going to do with you, Wren?”

“It’s what I plan to do with you.”

She was caught by his powerful grip. Not as in control as she claimed, but her chin was tilted up and she was challenging him. A challenge she knew he’d meet.

He didn’t stop her as she reached for the button on his pants. They might look like leather, but they had regular fastenings, and they came apart at her touch. She slippeda hand beneath the material, and his erection sprang free between them. A mouthwatering display of girth and length that made her want to spread her legs and take him that moment. Maybe she would have, if her dress would allow it. But she was on her knees. She’d kneel for her king.

The first sweep of her tongue against the head of his cock had him bucking against her. As if he’d been dreaming about her sweet mouth. He tasted salty and purely Graves.

She wrapped her lips around him, slicking his head with her tongue. Their mingled groans were audible. For so long she’d preferred eating out rather than blow jobs, but the satisfaction of being the one to drag that sound out of Graves? Divine.

“Take me all in, Wren,” he purred, guiding her down onto him.

She swallowed as he flexed in her mouth. Deeper and deeper until there were tears glittering in her lashes, and she could feel him at the back of her throat. Then she pulled out and sank back down again. Her hand wrapped around his shaft, working him up and down as she sucked him off. His hips thrust up, meeting her demanding mouth. She could tell it was taking sheer control not to take over from her. Not to cradle her face in his hands and fuck her mouth like he did her pussy. She wanted that. She was wet at the thought. But she wanted this victory on her own.

“Wren,” he grunted, deep and affected. “I’m going to come in your mouth.”

She didn’t let up, just took him deeper. Both his hands were in her hair and he thrust into her once, twice, three times before shuddering and releasing into her mouth. His cock pulsed into her as he groaned with pleasure. Whenhe finally came down, his eyes met hers again, and she swallowed him down.

“Fuck,” he ground out.

He withdrew his cock and replaced it with his thumb, holding her mouth open as if he wanted to see the site that had disarmed him.

“I’ve wanted to fuck this mouth for so long,” he confessed like a dark secret. “I fucked myself thinking about it.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Just my mouth?”

“I’ll take your pussy, too.”

“Now?” she pleaded.

“Can you ride me in that dress?”

She could not. He must have seen her despair, because he hauled her up next to him and slipped a hand under the sheer material. It bunched awkwardly around her knees, but he kept going upward against the resistance. “This will have to do until I can strip you out of the thing.”

His thumb was on her clit. Deep, swirling strokes of her sensitive bud through her thong. A second later, he brushed her panties aside and thrust two fingers inside of her.

“Oh god,” she gasped.

“So fucking wet,” he praised.

He drew her out in sharp, delicious strokes. She was so turned on from the blow job that her body trembled at his touch, like she might explode any second. She writhed under him, wanting more, needing more. She wanted to rip this dress off of her body and slide onto his cock. But he held her pinned to the seat as his fingers worked her over. There was no escaping. There was no controlling this.

Then his mouth slanted over hers, rough and needy, like he hadn’t just come moments earlier. And her orgasmhit her like a freight train. Her walls clenched around his fingers as she shuddered.

When she finally stopped trembling, he removed his hand and sucked his fingers clean. “Tonight,” he promised as he hit the roof twice.

Kierse dropped her head forward. Her pulse was racing, and she needed to get herself under control. They had a mission. They had…work.

Graves lifted her head and stole another long, languorous kiss.

She fixed her dress as George pulled up to the front entrance to the New Amsterdam Theatre. The street had been cleared, and not a single tourist walked down this part of 42nd Street. Kierse could see the glow of Times Square in the distance, and still none of it seemed to hit the growing darkness of this block.

“Ominous,” she whispered to Graves when he had finished adjusting himself and followed her out of the car.

“Ready?”

---