The King

He opened his pants, pulled off his shirt and put on a condom from his wallet in a matter of seconds. Then he grasped her by the knees, dragged her to him, letting the rug chafe her bare back. So what if it hurt her? Pain was their favorite toy.

With one smooth thrust he entered her, and she welcomed all of him inside her. She dug her heels into the rug and pushed up as he pushed in, meeting at the middle with a shared grunt of need. She twined her arms around his neck, her long legs around his lower back, and took his every thrust. He grasped her hair and forced her head back. He kissed the hollow of her throat, bit her lips and told her in no uncertain terms what he planned to do to her as soon as he’d come.

He pulled out and ordered her on to her hands and knees.

“You should have expected this after making me crawl,” he said as he entered her from behind. She didn’t argue, didn’t protest. Instead, she reached one hand under her body and between her legs and let her fingertips caress him as he moved in and out of her. He grew slick with her wetness, and her body opened up until he could bottom out in her. Her fingers moved from him to her clitoris. As she stroked herself, he clutched her shoulders, riding her with growing urgency. When she came, he felt her muscles clamping around him, f luttering and shuddering. With a few more long slow strokes he came, too, a cry of triumph and release escaping his lips.

For a few dozen breaths he stayed inside her as his heart calmed and her spasms subsided. He pulled out of her slowly, watching him leave her, knowing he’d be inside her again as soon as he was able.

He left her on the f loor as he disposed of the condom, came back to her and offered his hand.

She rose to her feet, and off her feet he lifted her. Once again she wrapped herself around him as he carried her up the short f light of stairs to the master bedroom on the second f loor. There he made good on his threat to make her come until she begged him to stop. Five orgasms later she claimed she could take no more. He wasn’t finished, however. So he put her on her back, entered into her wet depths with one powerful stroke and held her breasts in his hands while he fucked her. He thrust into her as slowly and as leisurely as he could while she lay beneath him, receiving him, taking him, enjoying him.

He came again with a sigh before collapsing on to Felicia’s warm, welcoming body. She held him close, kissed his shoulders, neck and lips and told him how much she’d enjoyed that. But since the hour was up, he had to be on his very best behavior.

Or else.

“I am an angel,” he said, rolling on to his side. “A saint.”

“And a liar,” she said, facing Kingsley. She tugged a lock of his hair. “Now go get us two glasses of wine. White. I’ll be waiting in bed.”

“Oui, Ma?tresse.”

When Kingsley returned with the wine, Felicia’s two Russian blue cats had taken over his spot in her bed. He handed Felicia a glass before picking up one of the cats. It squeaked in protest.

“Hush, Severin,” Kingsley said, scratching Severin under his chin. “You stole my pillow.”

“That’s Venus, not Severin,” Felicia said.

“My apologies, Ma?tresse Venus. All cats look alike to me.” He winked at Felicia, and sat Venus-in-Fur down next to her twin. He got into bed, and the cats rearranged themselves into a yin-yang of thick gray fur.

“Don’t tease my babies,” Felicia said. “I missed them so much when I was gone to the bad place. Even though it’s their fault I had to go away.”

“The cats sent you to pris—”

“Shh…” Felicia said and covered Venus’s twitching ears with her hands. “They don’t know where I went. Someone else had to feed them for two months, and that’s all they need to know.”

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