Page 90 of The KING Review

Maybe we really are perfect.

I melt, body softening into him, arms winding around his neck. The water pearls over his shoulders, shining in the golden haze. His beard is wet from the spray, auburn and silver flashing, and I shiver at the way his mouth gentles over mine, teasing, savoring.

When I flick my tongue along the seam of his lips, he opens for me, just a little, and I give chase, greedy. I could eat kisses for breakfast if they taste like Grant King.

He groans, shivering under my palms. The sound goes straight to my core. His cock presses thick and hot between us, impossible to ignore. I let my hand slide down, slick with soap and water, running my palm over his stomach, letting my fingers squeeze the plush heat of him, then lower, curling around his length.

He jolts, breath catching, but doesn’t stop me.

I stroke him, slow first, then firmer, thumb tracing the swollen crown and the bead of precum leaking down. He’s so hard for me. It’s hot, the way his whole body tenses, the way his eyes flutter when I squeeze, just a little mean.

He tries to catch my mouth again, but I pull back, grinning just a hair away from his lips. “You’re allowed to just let me take care of you, you know,” I whisper. “You took care of me.”

Grant’s hands find my waist. “That’s not… You know this isn’t transactional, right? You don’t owe me anything.”

I stroke him again, savoring the flex in his thighs, the way his hips rock into my grip. “I know,” I breathe, kissing down his jaw. “I want to. Please, Grant. Let me make you feel good?”

He hesitates, but the want in his eyes is nuclear. I can see how hard he’s trying to keep it leashed. I drop to my knees, letting my hands slide up my sides to the soft of my breasts, pressing them together in my grip.

A breath punches out of him as he watches, and my whole body lights up at the sound.

I tilt my chin up. “You let me make a mess of you, will you make a mess of me?”

He stares down at me, chest heaving. The water runs in sheets over his body, and I can smell sex and soap and the clean heat of him, thick around us in the steam.

“How is it possible for someone to be so perfect?” he murmurs, almost to himself.

I grin up at him. “I could say the same about you. Now come on my tits, and maybe if you make a big enough mess of me—I’ll let you fuck them next time.”

Grant’s eyes go animal and bright, but all the calculations behind them go dark. He grips his cock, slow, the water streaming over his hand, and the sound he makes is pure, unfiltered want.

“God, Neve.” He strokes himself, the flushed head gliding slick through his fist. “You have no idea how bad I want to see my cum all over these tits.”

I press them closer together for effect. My tongue flashes over my lower lip, and his eyes turn murderous.

“I could make a mess of you,” he says, voice low. “But I have a better idea.”

I pout. It’s shameless, but so am I. “How could there possibly be a better idea than that?”

He grins, mean and soft at once, thumb circling the crown of his cock, squeezing out another bead of slick just to watch me watch it. I’m obsessed. I want to taste it. I want to chase it down his length with my tongue.

“Tell me something,” he says, stepping in close. “Do you want to know more about my research?”

My mouth goes dry. The words flicker, but I can’t land on any of them.

Kink Imagery in Non-Group settings.

I swallow, chest fluttering. “Yes?”

He arches a brow, patient. “Yes, what?”

The air in the shower goes tight, like he’s burning off the oxygen between us.

“Yes, Daddy,” I whisper. “Tell me. Please.”

He smiles, and it’s the kind of smile that should come with a warning label. “Good girl.”

He leans down, hauling me to my feet. His hands slide down my arms, lifting them over my head to pin my wrists. The tile behind me is so cold it burns. His cock throbs hard and heavy between us.