Page 68 of Defiant Queen (Mount Trilogy 2)
A blast of possessiveness blows through me as though I stepped in front of a raging fire. “Maybe,” I say with a shrug.
“Then by all means, take care of it.”
His words are a dare, one he thinks I won’t take. But after last night, I don’t have a clue what I want anymore, except to destroy any of the fairy tales I let myself believe, even if they were only for a moment.
I sweep my dress to the side and lower myself to my knees before him, then shoot a pointed look up at him. “Don’t you dare mess up my hair.”
His palms flex as though dying to do it anyway, but he forces them to grip the edge of the bar behind him.
I work his button and zipper free and finally wrap my hand around the hot thickness of his cock. This time, I feel powerful.
“What about your makeup?” he asks, his tone strangled.
“As long as you don’t come on my face, we’ll be fine.”
When he doesn’t answer, I lower my lips close enough to dart out my tongue and lick a bead of pre-cum from the head.
He groans, and I pull back.
“Deal?”
“Yes. Sweet fucking Christ, woman. Are you trying to make me beg?”
“It would be a nice change.”
He growls down at me. “Go ahead and try.”
Keira
“Fuck.”
The satisfaction I get when he throws his head back and curses as I cup his balls in one hand and take his shaft deeper is probably unhealthy, but I don’t care. As soon as he tossed down the challenge, I was on a mission.
The power struggle I understand is back, except this time, I have the advantage.
I drop my head to suck one ball into my mouth and then the other, and his groan fills the suite. I keep waiting for him to break my rule and destroy my hairstyle, which would give us both a reason not to leave the room, but he doesn’t.
He’s respecting my request, and that adds another layer to the power trip I’m already on.
I work his shaft, alternating my hand and mouth but never letting go of his balls, and glance up from beneath my eyelashes. His dark gaze spears me, and the raw need and desire in it has me ready to throw my advantage out the window. Hearing him beg pales in comparison to the thought of him yanking me to my feet, spinning me around, and burying his cock inside me.
What that says about me, I don’t know or care at this moment.
“Are you going to swallow it all when I come down your throat?” he asks, and I shake my head. His brow furrows with confusion, and I let the head of his cock slide from my mouth with a pop. “What the hell game are you playing here?”
Slowly, I rise to my feet. “No game. Not this time.”
Mount’s eyes go molten. “You want to be fucked, don’t you?”
I nod.
“Thank God.”
He doesn’t follow the story line I plotted out in my head, but when has he ever? Instead, he drags me toward the sofa, then pulls my dress up and out of the way as he bends me over the back. His breath catches when he sees I’m not wearing any panties.
“Naughty fucking girl. When we walk into that gala tonight, you’re still going to feel me pounding inside you. Is that what you want?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
