King of Hearts

by L.H. Cosway

  My heart gave a single hard thump, and I knew instantly he was talking about Oliver. His words caused my pulse to accelerate as I shook my head. “It’s not strange at all. I loved him from the moment I saw him.”

  Now he frowned as he reached forward and clasped my hand. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for the birth. That’s not something you should have had to go through without me.”

  I stared at him. “It is what it is. We can’t change the past. You’re here now, though. That’s all that matters.”

  He squeezed my hand once before letting go, and I returned to preparing dinner. It was sort of disconcerting how he simply sat there and watched. Well, disconcerting and sexually frustrating, because the way he looked at me felt sensual. It always had. King had this intense way of studying people that was guaranteed to get any woman hot under the collar. Speaking of which, I was tugging on mine again, and he seemed to notice.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. It’s just a bit warm in here with the oven on. I think I’ll go upstairs and change into something lighter.”

  King nodded. “Is it okay if I use your bathroom?”

  “Sure, come and I’ll show you where it is.”

  He followed me up the stairs, and I indicated the bathroom door on the right. Then I slipped inside my room and opened a drawer, searching for one of my light cotton T-shirts. Finding it, I slipped off my top and pulled the T-shirt on over my head. I heard the toilet flush, and a few moments later, King stepped out of the bathroom, the floor creaking under his step. The house felt so silent then, save for the low volume of the TV playing downstairs. My skin prickled to have him there, so close to my bed. I heard him pause on the landing, not making his way back downstairs yet.

  “King?” I called softly.

  As though my voice was an invitation, he stepped inside my room. His eyes travelled around the small space, wandering momentarily to my bed, where a couple of my things lay unsorted. Mostly underwear. It added a new tension to the moment, and I stood frozen to the spot, unsure how to act. Sad though it was to admit, I’d never had a man in this room before, and his presence made the place feel smaller.

  He frowned and turned away. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I came in here.”

  “You came in because I called you. Is everything all right?” I felt like I was always asking him this, but I couldn’t seem to help it. I constantly wanted to make sure he was feeling okay and not overwhelmed at all. He finally lifted his eyes to mine, and my tension ratcheted up a notch, a heavy thickness settling in my throat. The weight of the atmosphere between us was almost unbearable.

  “You named him after me,” he whispered.

  All I could do was nod, mouth falling open slightly, heart squeezing with so many different feelings all at once.

  He breathed in and out, then took a step forward. I gripped the shirt I’d just taken off tightly in my hands and couldn’t help admiring his form. His T-shirt fit nicely around his broad shoulders, his hair hanging slightly forward to shield his face. Even before, I’d rarely seen him in jeans, but they hugged his slim waist attractively, accentuated by a simple brown leather belt. He looked so earthy and, well, just plain manly. It was hard to imagine a time when he’d donned designer suits and had his hair styled in a top London barber’s.

  He continued moving toward me, and I started to back away. I wasn’t sure why, but I enjoyed the feeling of being trapped. Before I knew it, my back hit the wall, and he was right there, eyes holding me captive. The shirt fell from my hands as I sucked in a sharp breath. His chest met mine, and then he leaned his entire weight on me until I was flat against the wall. His weight wasn’t unpleasant — in fact, it felt nice. I savoured how our bodies aligned themselves together, and my breathing increased in speed.

  “I like your bedroom,” said King, voice low and seductive. I couldn’t believe how confident he was being, how he so aggressively took the lead. Yet still, there was a tenderness, a certain level of hesitancy, as though he wasn’t quite sure if I’d allow him to get close. Right then, he couldn’t have gotten any closer.

  “Thanks.”

  His head dipped forward, his chin at my temple and his nose and lips in my hair. He inhaled deeply, and a shudder ran through me. He felt it, leaning on me even harder then. I was so wound up I thought I might melt into the wall. The way his body felt was causing my heart to race and my head to fill with images. My bed was right there. How easy would it be for him to throw me down on it and take me?

  In that moment, I wanted to be taken.

  “I keep thinking about last night and kissing you,” he murmured. I gasped sharply when he took my earlobe into his mouth and gently sucked. His tongue slid along the shell of my ear, and tingles radiated down my spine.

  “Oh, God.”

  He continued tonguing my ear, then shifted his body so I could feel his hardness pressing on my stomach. I wanted to moan, but bit down on my lip to keep it in. Oliver was just downstairs, and I didn’t want him to hear.

  “I want you so badly. I wanted you from the very moment you walked up to me that day in the circus.” His words provoked the memory of him standing abruptly from his chair and walking towards me like I was the only thing he saw. How he’d touched me almost reverently, his fingers tracing my features like he didn’t believe I was real.

  I moved a little, squeezing my thighs together to dull the ache he’d created. He noticed, and his lips began to curve into a smile. “What’s wrong, love?”

  I stared at his throat. “Dinner. I need to go down and check on the food.”

  “The food is fine.”

  “It could burn.”

  “It won’t. I want to touch you.”

  I lifted my gaze, meeting his fierce eyes, and whispered, “Then touch me.”

  The second the words left my mouth, his hands flew to the waistband of my trousers, undoing the fly and venturing inside. His fingers slid beneath the elastic of my underwear, and then he was feeling me, his touch warm and probing. We both trembled. He fingered my slit, then sank further, exploring my folds, and I felt my entire body spasm at the contact. I was soaking wet already, and when he found my opening and drove inside, I had to bury my face in his shoulder and bite down to keep from screaming. All at once he was filling up years of emptiness, and it was too much.

  My body went limp, but his strength held me up. He moved his fingers slowly, fucking in and out as his eyes sparkled, soaking in my reaction. My nipples grew hard, rubbing almost painfully against the fabric of my bra. King continued to finger me, his thumb coming up to rub circles into my clit. I undulated beneath him, letting out a sigh that he captured with his mouth. There was no gentleness in his kiss. It was hard and demanding, his tongue moving in unison with mine, sending my every nerve ending into a tailspin. I was completely open to him as he explored.

  “You feel incredible,” he gasped, breaking our kiss for a split second before his lips were back on me. His thumb circled my clit one more time and I came in an instant, shivering and shaking against him. He let out a low groan as he kissed me, and it vibrated through me as the waves of my orgasm crashed over me like a tsunami. His kiss grew gentler, until he was nibbling at the edges of my lips, allowing me to enjoy the after effects. I was vaguely aware of my embarrassment, since I’d just been victim to the female equivalent of premature ejaculation. King didn’t even seem to be aware of how quickly I’d come, though, so I didn’t dwell on it. I met his kisses, exploring his jaw and then his neck. He groaned when I licked at his earlobe, just like he’d done to me.

  My hand had just started to move along his stomach in the direction of his crotch when a voice called from downstairs.

  “Something’s beeping, Mummy!”

  My hand paused its exploration as I dropped my head to his chest and sighed.

  Twenty-Two

  I became aware of several things at once. One, my son was downstairs – our son was downstairs. Two, I’d just let King finger-fuck me to within an inch of my li
fe, and I wanted to take things further. Three, I didn’t have time right then to take things further (sad face.) And four, I really did need to check on dinner.

  I drew away from King, voice breathy. “I should go down.”

  “Yeah,” he said, a little breathless himself.

  I was aware of him going inside the bathroom to wash his hands instead of following after me. In the kitchen, I busied myself by turning off the oven and checking to make sure the roast was cooked through. I knew it was since the timer had gone off, which accounted for the beeping. Still, I checked it all the same, mostly to keep from thinking about what had just happened. It was weird, because I certainly hadn’t forced his hand down my pants, but I had this ridiculous notion that I was taking advantage of him. I wasn’t, of course. I’d never do that, but it was just how I felt. Probably because he was still in a state of recovery.

  When King came downstairs a minute later, he went inside the living room to Oliver. I listened to them talk as I dished up the food, smiling at my son’s never-ending questions and King’s bemusement at the random small talk. I could tell he was completely besotted, though, and it made my heart soar.

  After a couple of minutes, King came in and silently began setting the table. I cast him a look of thanks, and we worked together quietly for a couple of minutes. Once everything was ready, I called Oliver in, stuffing a napkin into his collar because he was a messy eater. All the while I was aware of King watching my every move, like how I cut Oliver’s meat into small pieces, or how I reached over and dabbed some apple sauce from his mouth at one point.

  Every once in a while I’d look up from my food and catch his eyes on me. His attention made me flush, because it was obvious that he was thinking about what had just happened between us in my room. When we were finished eating, King insisted on doing the dishes, so I brought Oliver upstairs for his bath. By the time I had him in his pyjamas and ready for bed, the kitchen was spic and span.

  I’d just walked in when King was drying his hands with a tea towel. Stepping forward, I went up on my tiptoes and placed a soft kiss to his cheek.

  “Thanks,” I whispered. It was nice to have someone else do the dishes for a change.

  “No problem.”

  “I was going to read Oliver a bedtime story. Do you want to come sit?”

  A thoughtful look crossed his face before he cleared his throat and asked, “Would you mind if I did it? Read him the story, that is?”

  I studied him, surprised by the request. “Of course not. I’ll tell you what — I wanted to take a bath myself, so how about I do that and you read to him?”

  King’s answering smile took my breath away. “That sounds like a plan.”

  I tried not to be disgruntled when Oliver acted pleased as punch to discover King was going to read him his story. If it didn’t make me so happy, I might have been jealous by how quickly they’d taken to each other. But then again, they were father and son. It was only natural for them to have a connection. The thought suddenly made me get a little weepy (happy tears, of course), so I quickly went to run my bath. Didn’t want King seeing me acting like a hormonal mess.

  His voice trickled in from down the hall as I settled into the warm water. It made me ache for his touch and to have him whisper naughty things in my ear. I had a sudden urge to touch myself, but I resisted. His voice just did strange things to me. I’d gotten out and dried myself off when I heard him close Oliver’s bedroom door and quietly step out into the hall. Quickly slipping into a robe, I opened the door and found him standing there, staring at the floor in consternation. When he looked up, he took in my appearance slowly, and my tummy did a little flip-flop.

  “Hey,” I whispered. “Is he asleep?”

  King seemed to be trying to muddle through a maze of his own feelings as he nodded and answered, “Yeah, he’s sleeping.”

  He looked like he needed a hug, so I went to him and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him close. His arms went to my middle, his fingers innocently brushing against the curve of my bottom. We hugged for a long time, soaking up each other’s warmth and breathing one another in. Then suddenly he was backing me into my bedroom, and I didn’t stop him. We were already inside when he asked, “Is this okay?”

  “Yeah, it’s okay.”

  “I don’t want to leave yet,” he said, nose in my wet hair.

  “I don’t want you to leave yet, either.” And it was true, not only because I savoured his presence, but also because my little urges in the bath hadn’t yet dissipated. I swear, just hearing him speak could probably get me off. He looked down at me then, and he must have read something in my face, because his eyes turned heated. His arms fell away from me as he seemed to consider something. Then, with a gravelly voice, he gestured to the bed and ordered me, “Lie down.”

  Whoa. That was unexpected. The authoritative tone he used got my blood up. Swallowing thickly, I took three steps backward until my legs hit the bed. I lowered myself onto the mattress until I was flat on my back, chest rising and falling heavily, and waited for what came next. King’s eyes darkened as he sat on a chair and rubbed at his chin. I loved how his gaze traced me, eating up every detail.

  “Undo your robe.” Unlike his first order, this time I heard a slight tremor in his voice. Was he nervous?

  I never took my eyes off him as my hands fell to the tie and followed his command. Slowly, I brushed either side apart until my nudity was bared to him. He hissed in a breath and sat forward, elbows on his knees. His eyes were levelled on my breasts and my nipples, which were hardened into tight peaks. Then they moved lower.

  His voice was thick when he spoke. “Lift your knees up and open your legs.” On the surface his words were crude, but it was the way he said them that held tenderness. Inside my chest, my heart was pounding with excitement. I loved this, loved how he was telling me what to do. Once I’d done as he’d asked, King let out an audible groan before muttering, “Jesus, you’re wet.”

  He was right, I was. I was also aching, pulsing with a deep need for him to come and give me some relief. His next words, so tender and warm, made me moan.

  “Touch yourself for me, love.”

  Instinctively, I allowed my hand to run down my chest, caressing my breasts and pinching my nipples. I could hear King’s breathing fill the room, and when I looked at him, his hands were balled into fists. He must have been using all his willpower to keep from touching me, and I felt exhilarated. Slowly, I ran my hand down my stomach and between my thighs. My body shuddered when I brought my fingers to my sex and rubbed, my clit a tight bundle of need.

  “Fuck,” King swore, and I shuddered, rubbing my wetness up and down my folds before circling my clit gently. I met his eyes, silently communicating that this was for him. His nostrils flared, his gaze on fire, and he was leaning forward so much he was about to fall off the chair. I would have found it funny if I weren’t so turned on.

  “Put your fingers inside yourself,” he said gruffly, and I moaned again. I tried not to be too loud, since Oliver was sleeping just down the hall, but it was hard. King’s penis was a stiff length, outlined sharply against the crotch of his jeans. I stared at him, imagining it inside me, as my fingers slid in, filling me up. My hips rose off the bed as I moved them in and out. My eyes locked with King’s, and I never looked away, never stopped fingering myself as he devoured me with his gaze. Then I pulled them out and caressed myself up and down before rubbing at my clit again. My skin was hot and feverish, and my stomach was tight with the need to come.

  “Let go for me,” King urged me, and I increased my speed, my little pants and moans loud in my ears. I was so wet it was almost embarrassing, because he hadn’t so much as touched me yet. Feeling the pleasure rush forward all at once, I gave my clit one final, hard rub, and my vision went blurry for a second. I orgasmed with a sharp cry.

  I was rubbing out the waves when suddenly King loomed over me, his intentions clear on his face. He wanted to make love. The tender look in his eyes m
ade me feel truly cherished. He was pulling his T-shirt off over his head as I scrambled for my bedside dresser to grab a condom. I’d bought a packet only days ago, in the hopes that maybe something would happen between us. Never in a million years did I think it would be like this, mind-blowingly kinky and earth-shatteringly hot – yet so emotional.

  His shirt was off first, and as he focused on his pants, I took in the contours of his body. He was thicker than he used to be, still muscled but not as defined, yet somehow it was sexier for its lack of contrivance. In fact, in that moment he was the most arousing thing I’d ever seen. I shivered as I watched him. There were a couple of scars on his arms and one on his chest. I knew he probably didn’t remember where they’d come from, collected over the years he’d lost to his addiction. Life on the streets wasn’t easy. It was hard and brutal, and I was certain he’d found himself in fights on more than one occasion.

  Anyhow, it wasn’t like my body hadn’t changed. I had old stretch marks and had gained a few extra pounds. It wasn’t a bad thing. It was just human. King’s eyes practically glowed, and I knew I was just as sexy to him as he was to me. It wasn’t so much about the shell but about the soul contained within.

  When his pants were gone, I brought the condom to my mouth in an effort to seductively tear it open with my teeth. The foil wouldn’t rip, though, and we both shared a laugh at my epic fail. King placed a hand on my cheek, and murmured, “Christ, I love you.”

  His words made me gasp and I stared at him in disbelief, the packet falling inelegantly from my mouth. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t believe him. I guess I’d just spent so long wishing to have him back that it was hard to believe it had become a reality. Anyhow, my disbelief didn’t last long, because even if my brain was hesitant, my heart knew he meant what he’d said.

  He chuckled and bent down to nip at my chin as he took the condom from where it had landed on my chest. Clearly, I couldn’t be trusted with it.

  “No need to look so shocked, darling,” he told me gently. “I never stopped loving you, not even in my darkest hour.”