Page 112 of Kneel with the King
I look down. The sight of him—my Ambrose King, on his knees for me, eyes locked on mine—is almost enough to undo me right here. I groan, and my hips twitch forward without my permission. He plants one big hand firmly on my hip, holding me exactly where he wants me.
Controlling the pace.
Making me take it the way he wants to give it.
Then he pops off my cock for a second, puts his middle finger in his mouth, and generously covers it with saliva.Fuuuck.
Placing his lips back on me, I feel his other hand slide lower, his knuckles brushing over my balls in a way that makes my cock jump in his mouth. My breath stumbles. His middle finger drifts back, dragging over sensitive skin until it presses against me.
It’s a light touch at first, a tease, the barest pressure at my rim that makes my thighs tense. He covers the area in his spit, and a few seconds later, he pushes a little harder until the thick pad of his finger slides inside.
My entire body jolts.
The heat of his mouth is already almost too much, but now there’s this deeper sensation, stretching me open while his lips and tongue work me. I feel every inch of him—the wet pull of his mouth, the slick glide of his finger curling inside me. My knees start to go weak, and I have to brace my hands hard against the desk behind me just to stay upright.
“Relax,” he murmurs, his lips still wrapped around me, the vibration of his voice buzzing straight through my cock. I let out a shaky exhale, trying to loosen up, and the moment I do, he slides in to the second knuckle, filling me in a way that has my vision blurring.
Then he finds it—that spot—and rubs it just as his tongue swirls over the head of my cock. My entire body locks up.
“Jesus—Ambrose—” My voice cracks, a groan or a plea, I’m not sure.
“What is it that you want?” he asks sweetly.
I buck my hips. “More. Of that.Please.”
He hums like he likes the sound of it, the deep rumble making my stomach twist with pleasure. The push and pull is maddening, his mouth dragging up my length while his finger presses and works my prostate inside me, each sensation amplifying the other until I can’t separate them. My pulse is thundering in my ears, my breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts.
“Beg for it,” he says a minute later.
He keeps the rhythm steady. Suck, stroke, curl, press. Soon, I’m panting like I’ve just run a sprint. My thighs clamp around his shoulders, my toes curling inside my shoes, and still he doesn’t let up.
“Please, Daddy. Fuck—” I choke out, not even sure what I’m begging for anymore.
“That’s it. What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me.Begme.”
“I want—to come. I want you to swallow every drop,” I add, squeezing my eyes shut.
He groans, and I can tell he liked what I said, because his finger twitches inside of me. He pulls me deeper into his mouth, his throat working around me, and at the same time his finger presses harder against that spot inside me. My entire body bows forward, a helpless sound tearing out of my chest.
“Fuck, Harrison. I could suck your cock all day and never get enough.”
My eyes roll back at his words, and I can’t speak—can’t answer. The tugging sensation inside of me breaks suddenly, and the heat at the base of my spine snaps, white-hot and blinding, and I come hard, spilling into his mouth with thick pulses of cum.
It’s not just a normal orgasm. It’s wrung out of me, drawn from the deepest part of me. I hear King swallow several times,and I can’t think straight. I’m shaking, my pulse hammering against my ribs. He keeps going through it until the very end, his mouth swallowing around me while his finger moves slowly, coaxing every last spasm out of me until I’m practically sagging against the desk.
When he finally pulls back, he slides his finger out just as slowly, like he knows I’m raw and trembling. He stands, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb, and looks at me like he’s just conquered something.
His mouth is still damp when he kisses me again, letting me taste myself on his tongue. My hands find his belt this time, and he doesn’t stop me. I push his trousers down just far enough to free him, stroking him once, twice, and watching his jaw go tight.
“So worked up from that,” I murmur, my thumb brushing over the head of his cock that’s dripping with precum. His hips jerk at my touch, the muscles in his stomach tightening under my hand.
“From you,” he corrects, his voice low and raspy. I do it again, this time using my other hand to cup his balls.
“Fuck,” he groans, bracing one palm against the desk beside me. “I’m already close. Just—” His eyes flick up to mine, dark and almost feverish. “Just touch me, sweetheart, and I’ll come.”
The way he says it… like it’s a promise, like he’s already picturing it… makes my cock twitch even though I’m still wrung out. I wrap my hand fully around his shaft, and it pulses in my grip. My strokes are slow at first, my thumb circling over the slick head just to watch his jaw tighten.
His cock twitches in my hand again, hot and slick with precum, and his grip closes tight around my wrist.
