Page 83 of Kneel with the King
I grab him by the shirt collar, dragging the fabric up and over his head, then shove mine off as well. The friction of skin against skin lights me up like a match, and my cock throbs inside of my pants, needing to be let out. Needinghim.
He flips us suddenly, pinning me to the mattress. He winces, and I realize this position is probably hard on his knee, but he doesn’t shift.
His hand wraps around my throat—not tight, just a reminder. A threat of power. It sends a jolt of pleasure and ragethrough me. I didn’t think I wanted him in control again—but I do.
I hate that I do.
I buck up against him and snarl. “You asshole.”
He smirks, infuriating and smug and so fucking beautiful it makes me ache everywhere with built-up want.
“You don’t want me to fuck you?” he asks, tilting his head. His hair falls in front of his face, and I let my eyes quickly wander down his bare abdomen.
I don’t answer. I can’t. Because I do want that. I want to feel him come apart inside of me. I want to give him that part of myself—the part that no one has ever taken from me.
Before I can answer, he unbuttons his pants and reaches out to do the same to mine.
“You’re going to let me call the shots again, okay, sweetheart?” he asks, voice low. “First, you’re going to spread your legs for me. And then you’re going to beg.”
“Go to hell.”
“I’m already in hell, Harrison,” he breathes into my neck, “and you’re the one who put me there.”
He climbs off the bed and takes his pants off, kicking his boots and socks to the side along with them.
He does me next, quickly ripping my ski pants from my body and pulling my boxers off in one quick motion.
“You might still be in denial,” he murmurs, licking his lips as he looks down at my leaking tip. “But your cock doesn’t lie.”
He walks over to his bag, and a rush of adrenaline courses through me when I see him reach in and grab something, carrying it over to the bed.
A mini bottle of lube.
“I’m not— I’ve never?—”
He cuts me off by placing a hand over my mouth. Looking down at me, his expression softens.
“I know. Let me be the first.”
When he removes his hand, I just lie there, motionless. I don’t know how this works, but I know the basics. My stomach knots with nerves as he dispenses some lube into his hand, coating his index finger.
“As always, you know your safe word. Spread your legs for me,” he murmurs. I take a deep breath and pull my knees to the sides just as a shuddering exhale escapes my mouth. “That’s my good boy,” he purrs, taking one hand and wrapping it around my cock.
I jolt, a flash of shivering pleasure skirting down my spine. I don’t even notice the finger starting to breach my hole.
“Relax,” he murmurs, his pupils darkened as he continues pumping me with one hand and rubbing circles around my asshole with the other. “The more relaxed you are, the easier this will be.”
“Right. I’m sure you’ve bottomed so many times in your life.”
He huffs a laugh, and before I can react, he slips his finger inside of me. I gasp, arching my back, and when his fingertip brushes against something hot and heady inside of me…
It’s like my whole body lights up like a damn firework, and searing pleasure slides through me like molten lava. My cock throbs and leaks, and I feel the precum drip onto my stomach as I arch my back, as goosebumps erupt along my body.
He curves his finger ever so slightly, and I groan, my eyelashes fluttering.
“F-fuck,” I grunt.
“I’ve been a bottom all of one time and hated it. I like being in control too much.” He twists his finger inside of me again and I see stars. More precum leaks out, and I wonder how quickly I could come from just his finger in my asshole. “Plus, I’ll never get over how you look spread out for me like a feast, sweetheart.”
