“Quiet,” S?ren said into Kingsley’s ear. “We aren’t alone, and I’ll gag you until you choke if I have to. Understand?”
Kingsley nodded against S?ren’s hand. A curtain and partition separated them from the driver. He couldn’t see them, but if they were loud enough, he could hear them. He’d disobeyed S?ren’s orders to stay in the car, he’d yelled at him and talked back. He was going to get it this time.
Good.
S?ren kissed him again. Kingsley kept his sounds of pleasure to a minimum even when S?ren reached between their bodies, unzipped Kingsley’s pants, and stroked him hard. Every muscle in Kingsley’s stomach tightened. He sucked in his breath sharply from the shock of pleasure. It took every bit of self-control not to moan audibly.
“You like this?” S?ren asked.
“God, yes, so much,” Kingsley said, lifting his hips against S?ren’s hand. He spoke in French and English. He was about to lose control of more than his language skills if S?ren didn’t stop touching him like that.
“I think you like it too much.” S?ren rose up on his knees and looked down at Kingsley.
“I don’t. I really don’t. I like it exactly as much as you want me to.”
“You’re pathetic when you’re turned on.”
“I am so pathetic right now.”
“Kneel on the f loor,” S?ren ordered and Kingsley obeyed. He faced away from S?ren and rested his arms on the bench seat opposite S?ren. It was good to be here, good to be on his knees for S?ren. It had been too long since S?ren had hurt him. When he thought about it, it made no sense to him that he felt the free-est and the strongest when on his knees and being hurt. But it didn’t matter what he thought or how much sense it made. They didn’t have to justify what they did to anyone but themselves. They lost sleep over what they did, but not to their consciences.
When they lost sleep it was only because they found something better to do.
Kingsley heard movement behind him—the sound of leather and metal. S?ren had removed his belt and Kingsley braced himself for a hit. But instead S?ren wrapped it around Kingsley’s neck. He froze as the belt pressed against his throat. Carefully, as if the belt were a leash, S?ren pulled Kingsley to him until he sat up, ramrod straight, his bare back against S?ren’s knees.
“I’ve wanted to do this to you for a long time,” S?ren said, bending to whisper the words in Kingsley’s ear. “If only to shut you up.”
And he pulled the belt tighter. Kingsley inhaled sharply but couldn’t breathe out, not yet.
“You like this?” S?ren’s hands wound around the leather strap. Kingsley would have said yes if he could have. “Prove it.”
With shaking hands, Kingsley stroked himself while S?ren watched from above and behind him. He couldn’t remember a time it felt this good to touch himself. His head swam. He felt light and euphoric. His cock was brutally hard and intensely sensitive. Even with the belt around his neck he still managed a voiceless moan.
As he grew closer to coming and closer to unconsciousness, he had a f lash of perfect clarity. Here he was in a Rolls Royce about to have an orgasm while the man he loved with all his heart and all his soul and all his body held Kingsley’s very life in his hands. And it was as it should be, S?ren holding the power of life and death. Kingsley’s parents had named him after kings, but it was S?ren who should rule the entire world. S?ren was Kingsley’s king. S?ren needed a kingdom of his own. Kingsley could give it to him, build it for him. A world of danger, of secrets, of sex, of pain. He didn’t know how or when, but he would do it someday, give S?ren a kingdom of his own.