Page 25 of Pounded in the Patch
His hands, his voice, his ridiculous seasonal sex toys.
Everything about this man is claiming me. And Iwantto be his.
He works me with the vibrator and his fingers, building me up slowly this time, drawing out every moan until I'm trembling and begging and completely lost to the pleasure.
"That's it," he says, watching my face with those intense green eyes. "Come for your king, my queen."
My king.
He thinks he’s my king and I'm his queen and this is our dark kingdom.
I shatter around his fingers, the crown shifting on my head as I throw it back and scream for him into the night. The orgasm explodes, and I cling to the sheets like I’m desperately trying to hold onto reality.
As I come down, he's still kneeling between my legs, still watching me with that possessive gaze.
I need more.
I needallof him.
"I want to ride you," I hear myself say, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. "I want to fuck you while I wear your crown."
His eyes flash with hunger. "Then take what you want, my queen."
He lies back on the silk, pulling me up to straddle him as he frees his cock from his pants. I can see all of him now—the tattoos across his chest, the way his muscles flex as he moves, the perfect masculinity of him beneath me.
My king.
My beautiful, dangerous king.
I sink down onto him slowly, savoring every inch as he fills me completely. The crown is heavy on my head, reminding me with every movement that I'm his queen, that this is my throne, that he's made me into something powerful and dark and absolutelyhis.
This is where I belong. As fucked up as it may seem to literally anyone else, this is who I am.
I start to move, riding him with increasing desperation as he grips my hips and helps guide my movements. The silk slides beneath us, the candles flicker around us, and the crown stays perfectly balanced on my head like it was always meant to be there.
"Fuck," he groans, his head falling back as I take him deeper. "Don’t stop"
Now he’s the one begging me to keep going. I feel a sense of pride, like I’ve somehow gained an ounce of control in this situation.
I'm close again, the pleasure building with every roll of my hips, every flex of his hands on my skin. I can feel him getting close too, in the way his jaw clenches beneath the mask, in the way his breathing gets ragged.
"Come with me," I demand, using the voice of a queen giving orders to her king. "Fill me with your cum until I can’t take any more. I want your seed dripping out of me."
He does, roaring loudly as he empties himself inside me, and I follow him over the edge, my crown shifting but never falling as I collapse against his chest.
We lie there panting under the moon, my body draped over his, our limbs tangle in a sticky mess.
That's when I seeit.
A glint of metal against his throat, half-hidden by his open shirt. Something small and round hanging from a chain around his neck.
What is that?
I lift my head slightly, trying to get a better look, and my breath catches. My heart stops.
It looks like…
CHAPTER 8
