King of Hearts

by L.H. Cosway

  “I’m not shocked,” I said, choking up. “I’m just trying to…absorb. I never stopped loving you, either.”

  The smile he gave me in response made my chest ache. I watched as he tore open the condom with far more finesse than I could’ve mustered before rolling it down his hard length. I swallowed in anticipation as he brought his hands to my thighs and pulled them tightly around his hips. His erection brushed against me teasingly, and he bent to capture my lips with his. He kept his eyes open as he kissed me; it was both strange and captivating. I stared at him, fascinated by his every move. I loved the tension in his shoulders as he held himself up, and the strain of his biceps as he kept from entering me.

  Then his hips began to move, slowly in and out, his cock nudging at my opening. I gripped his arms and moaned in frustration. He just barely slid inside before pulling out again and then finally drove himself in to the hilt with an almost feral growl. I cried out at the invasion, my body tight and out of practice. He felt amazing, so hot and slick. Not moving, he continued to kiss me, his tongue silky and wet, his eyelids fluttering closed from the pleasure. A shudder ran through him, but still he didn’t move. I loved the feel of him so deep inside me, filling up every inch. On instinct, I clenched around him, and his mouth fell from mine as he let out a quiet grunt.

  “Jesus.”

  “Oliver,” I breathed, a quiet plea.

  “Just… just give me a minute.”

  I lowered my mouth to his neck and sucked, causing him to shudder a second time. Then I ran my hands over his broad shoulders and down his spine until I reached his lower back. Pressing my fingers in gently, a silent urge for him to move, I looked up and found him staring down at me in fascination. His icy eyes danced in the lamp light, his mouth hanging open. I rose up a little and took his lower lip in my teeth, giving him a soft nip. He growled low in his throat, a sexy, playful sound.

  “Make love to me,” I whispered.

  It was a sweet relief when he finally moved his hips, pulling out, then driving back into me hard. I let out a breathy sigh, fingers digging harder into the base of his spine.

  “I fucking love your body,” he whispered like a vow. “I’ll never leave you again. Never.”

  His words fixed something in me, sealed up any lingering doubt. He was here to stay. And I’d never let him go.

  And then he was driving into me fiercely, expelling years of hunger and loneliness. I knew the feeling. It was almost euphoric to finally have someone, to connect at the most base and human level. I ran my mouth over his jaw, tried to catch his lips in mine, but they evaded me as his body moved fast. His muscles were coiled tight, his breaths harsh. I wanted his kiss, dammit. Just as though he was attuned to my every need, he slowed his pace and gave me his mouth.

  As we kissed, our lovemaking became slow and languid, but somehow more feverish. I felt every second, found myself shivering as I relished the push and pull and savoured every inch of him inside me. My pores beaded tight, my skin was hot and flushed, and a light layer of sweat coated my skin.

  He lowered his face to my neck, still fucking me, and breathed in deep. There was an urgency to his movements, and I knew he was going to come soon.

  “I love you,” I whispered in his ear. “Always.”

  And then he grew still as he came, before falling hot and heavy onto my chest.

  ***

  Something felt wonderful. I thought I might be dreaming, but there was this fluttering tightness in the pit of my stomach that set my heart thrumming, and I realised the feeling was all too real. I stirred a little in the bed, blinking open my eyes and looking down to find King’s head between my legs, his tongue lapping at me hungrily. I inhaled shakily at the sight, and the first sound I made was a low moan.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, my voice a whisper.

  “Not teasing you,” he said, his words recalling a memory of the first night we spent together in Rome, and how he’d woken me up by planting kisses along my thighs.

  Before I could respond, his fingers were inside me, pumping fast as his tongue worked its magic on my clit. I had just enough energy to turn my head and check the time on my alarm clock. It was five-thirty in the morning, and therefore early enough that Oliver wouldn’t be awake yet. I could enjoy this. I let out a sigh of relief that mixed in with my moans.

  King had thrown my legs over his shoulders to give him greater access, and I swear to God I could have died from the heavenly sensation of his lips and tongue.

  “Have I mentioned that I love you?” I sighed.

  He chuckled into my skin, the sound vibrating pleasantly through my body. Then he hummed low in his throat, a sound of sheer pleasure like he was truly enjoying himself. I relished the feeling of lazy arousal, of just having to lie there playing me like a piano. The thought caused an image of him with his instrument to flash in my mind, and then I was even more turned on. God, this man.

  Sinking my fingers into his hair, I pulled his face in closer, his stubble scratching maddeningly at my thighs. He chuckled again, and I huffed out a breath.

  “Shut it.”

  He came up for air. “Tell the truth. This is why you wanted me to keep my hair long.”

  I ground my jaw and replied breathily, “I said shut it.”

  More chuckling, and then he was back at me, licking me until I was coming long and hard on his mouth. His hand stroked my stomach, trailing up my body and caressing my breasts, my nipples. I trembled from the after effects and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him up to me.

  “Come here,” I whispered, and wrapped my arms around his neck, holding him close. His breathing was deep and relaxed, and I loved how chilled out going down on me made him. My thighs were around his waist, his delicious body heavy on top of mine. I stroked his hair, enjoying the silky feel, and felt him drift off back to sleep.

  I wasn’t sure what time it was when I woke up, but I knew it had to be later than my usual hour. King and I had moved while we slept, and now he lay behind me, his big body encapsulating mine as we spooned. The duvet was pulled high, covering us completely, and it was a good thing, too…because I opened my eyes to find two curious blue ones staring back at me.

  Oh, Jeez.

  Oliver stood there in his PJs, an inquisitive look on his face as he held one of his teddy bears to his chest. He took in the sight of me and King in bed, but he didn’t seem upset by it. He only seemed curious. I might have felt ashamed if the man in my bed wasn’t his father and if I didn’t plan on spending the rest of my life with him.

  “Oliver 2 is asleep,” he whispered, and pointed.

  I gave him a tight smile, and honestly, I kind of felt like laughing. Hadn’t I learned by now that there was no privacy when you lived in a house with a five-year-old? I really should have thought to lock the door. Then again, if he’d woken up and found my door locked, he either would’ve gotten scared and started crying, or thrown a hissy fit until I let him inside.

  Well, it wasn’t exactly perfect, but I guessed this was one way for him to find out that King and I were together.

  “Why is he sleeping in your bed, Mummy?” Oliver asked, still wearing that curious expression. It was sort of adorable.

  “Because he’s my…special friend,” I answered, immediately cringing at my choice of words. Seriously, I could’ve done better than pulling out the “special friend” card, but there just wasn’t a right way to explain this situation to a child. “Will you do something for me, baby? Will you go downstairs and grab Mummy’s handbag from the kitchen? The blue one?”

  Oliver hopped to attention at my request, nodding and hurrying to complete the task. I sat up from the bed quickly and pulled on my robe before leaning over and shaking King’s shoulder. He blinked his eyes open, saw me hovering over him, and smiled lazily. He slid his arm around my waist to pull me closer, his hand dipping inside my robe to palm my breast. I gently pushed him off.

  “I’m sorry to wake you, but Oliver just came in and found us sleeping together,”
I said, not sure why I was still whispering. Everybody was awake now. King was too sleepy to interpret what I was saying at first, but when he realised, his eyebrows shot right up.

  “Ah, hell,” he said, rising to sit and running a hand over his face.

  “Yeah, you need to put some clothes on. He’ll be back in a second.”

  “Okay,” he murmured, leaning close to press a kiss to my lips before going and pulling on his boxers, jeans, and T-shirt. I went about making the bed as he slid his belt through the hoops and fiddled with the buckle. There was something satisfied in his expression as he watched me, and I didn’t like it. Okay, that was wrong. I liked it a lot, but I didn’t like that I liked it. It said something to the tune of, Yeah, I made you come several times last night, no need to thank me. Real cocky, like. I had just enough time to narrow my eyes at him and suppress a smile before I heard little feet trundling back up the stairs.

  “Here, Mummy, here’s your bag,” Oliver announced, holding up my handbag triumphantly.

  I took it from him and placed a kiss on the top of his head. “Thank you, honey.”

  King stepped forward and ruffled Oliver’s hair, the three of us standing together in a circle. I was momentarily hit with a pang of emotion to have them both so close. My two men. Our small family. King shot me a warm smile like he could read my exact thoughts.

  “Come on, little man, let’s go downstairs and make breakfast. Give your mum a morning off.”

  “Okay,” said Oliver, bobbing his head. He seemed to enjoy how King called him “little man,” like he was one of the grown-ups. He also seemed excited to have him there. It must have been because it was usually just the two of us, so having someone new around in the morning added an element of fun. I went and took a quick shower while the two of them chattered down in the kitchen. I had no idea what they were cooking, but they were making a hell of a lot of noise. When I heard King laugh, full and deep, it sent a pleasurable tremor right down my spine. It felt nice to have a man around, just doing normal man stuff, like making breakfast with our son and giving me orgasms.

  Once out of the shower, I wrapped my hair in a towel and threw on a comfy navy dress with cream polka dots. Then, removing the towel, I twisted my damp hair into a knot and went downstairs to see what kind of havoc those two were wreaking on my kitchen.

  Surprisingly, the place wasn’t too messy, and the heavenly smell of French toast filled the room. King stood by the cooker, holding a spatula. He’d placed Oliver on a stool so he could sit and watch. I went and peeked in one of the cupboards, grinning happily when I found we had maple syrup. King hadn’t even realised I’d come in, because he was too focused on cooking and talking to Oliver. The two of them were so cute together, the similarities in their looks particularly striking. It was like looking at two pictures of the same person, one as a boy and the other as a man. Somehow, even though he was smaller and not as strong, I felt like maybe the boy would be the one to save the man this time. Having my love was all well and good, but there was just something about King’s eyes when he looked at our boy that brought the life back into them. It was in that moment that I truly believed he’d never drink again. I hadn’t realised it, but I hadn’t been certain before. Now, somehow I just knew.

  Sitting by the counter, I placed my chin in my hands, watching them interact.

  It made me happy.

  King only saw me when he turned, holding the pan. His lips twitched with a smile as he plopped the food onto the plates.

  “You look beautiful,” he said.

  “Shut up,” I said.

  “Oi! You’re not allowed to say that,” Oliver said.

  I stuck my tongue out at him, and he giggled. King dished up the French toast, and I poured an unhealthy amount of maple syrup onto mine. Oliver made a face at me, because he didn’t like maple syrup and preferred strawberry jam.

  We were eating for a minute or two when I heard a key slot into the front door. My eyes widened and went straight to King, whose brow was furrowed curiously at the sound of someone entering my house, someone who had a key. It wasn’t at all what he thought, though. I heard Elaine’s light footsteps sound down the hall before she stepped inside the room. She often stopped by unexpectedly, but since she’d visited just yesterday, I didn’t think she’d be back so soon. When I saw the bunch of flowers she was holding, I knew she’d come just to drop them off. Every once in a while she liked to bring me flowers. King turned in his place to see who’d come in, and his fork clattered loudly to his plate.

  “Oliver,” said Elaine, her voice laced heavily with emotion.

  “Mum,” he breathed, so quiet it was almost a whisper.

  She looked to me, and I knew instantly that she hadn’t intended to intrude. She lifted the flowers weakly, as though to prove her visit was innocent. And then her eyes filled with tears. Seconds later King was standing, taking long strides towards her and pulling her into his arms for a tight embrace. They hugged for a long time, the flowers getting squashed between them.

  Oliver looked at me, his mouth open and his eyes big. He clearly sensed something important was happening, but he wasn’t sure what. The long silence was broken when he whispered, “Why is Granny Elaine crying?”

  I didn’t know how to answer, but then I heard Elaine’s soft chuckle as she pulled back from King and turned to face him. She stepped forward and ran her hand lightly over Oliver’s hair. “Because this is my son,” she answered gently. “And I haven’t seen him for a very long time.”

  I watched Oliver as his little brain put two and two together. “You’re his mummy,” he said finally, and Elaine nodded. King had come to place a hand reassuringly on her shoulder.

  “I belong to her the same as you belong to your mum,” he explained.

  “Oh,” said Oliver. “I’d be sad, too, if I didn’t see my mummy for a very long time.”

  His words made us all choke up, and I stood to go grab a plate for Elaine and some coffee. It gave me a chance to settle my emotions. She sat down at the table, talking to Oliver mostly. I got the sense that she really wanted some alone time with King, so once we’d finished eating, I made a suggestion.

  “How about Oliver and I go out for a couple of hours? Give you both some time to catch up.”

  Elaine nodded like it was a good idea, but King looked a little more hesitant. I knew it wasn’t because he didn’t want to spend time with her, but more because he didn’t want to talk about all the painful things they had to discuss.

  “I don’t want to go,” my son complained grumpily. “I want to stay here with Oliver 2!”

  In any other situation, his grumpiness would have annoyed me, but no. The fact that he’d grown so attached to King made my heart do wild flip-flops in my chest.

  “Oliver 2?” Elaine asked, her lips tugging into a smile.

  I sighed and smiled back at her. “He thinks it’s crazy that they’re both named Oliver. Don’t ask. Do you mind if he stays? I have a few things I need to take care of anyway, and it’ll be easier if I leave him here.”

  “Of course not, you know I always love having him.”

  And that was how I found myself grabbing my things and making my way to the front door. King followed me out, leaving Elaine and Oliver in the kitchen. Then he placed his hand to the small of my back, and my body gave a little shudder.

  “Don’t feel like you have to leave,” he said quietly, his touch warm.

  I turned and looked up at him. “You and your mum need to talk. I’ll only be gone a couple of hours.”

  “Yes, but this is your house….”

  I quieted him by placing a finger to his lips. “No buts. Seriously, you need to talk to her. Get it all out. If you put a DVD on for Oliver, he’ll be quite happy to sit and watch it. He won’t give you any trouble.”

  “It’s not about that. You know I love him.”

  Without thinking, a soft sigh escaped me. “God, I love that you love him.”

  “Well,” said King, leaning closer,
voice low, “I love that you love that I love him. And I love you, too.”

  I shot him an amused scowl. “Don’t try to sweet-talk me.” My hand moved from his mouth to his jaw, my touch a caress as my expression sobered. “How are you feeling, though? Any headaches or nausea?”

  His mouth firmed as he swallowed. “Honestly? Yeah, a bit of both. But I’m handling it.”

  “Yeah,” I breathed, ready to burst, I was so proud of him. “You are.”

  His strength in dealing with all this as well as feeling like shit from quitting drinking continually amazed me. He backed me into the wall and bent to press a kiss to my jaw. “I’ll miss you today.”

  “I’ll miss you, too. Now, I’d better go. Otherwise, I might drag you back upstairs to bed.”

  His answering chuckle vibrated through my chest as I slipped out the door and headed for my car. It was only when I was halfway down the street from my house that I realised I had no clue where I was going.

  Twenty-Three

  “Oh, my God, don’t even get me started,” Lille harrumphed. “That flippin’ monkey has stolen dozens of my hair ties, several tubes of lip gloss, packets of face paints, and any number of small coins since I started living with this circus. Somebody needs to call the cops on the little fecker. I swear, I don’t know where he hides it all.”

  “Maybe he has a secret stash where he goes to admire all his pretty treasures,” Matilda suggested with a grin.

  Lille sighed. “He was walking around with green all over his tail the other day, and my green paint was suspiciously missing from the case.”

  “Well, this isn’t good news for me. After meeting Pierre, Oliver is determined to get a monkey. I may have to dazzle him with a new toy just so he’ll forget,” I joked.

  The girls laughed as we sat at the tiny kitchen table in Lille’s camper van, sharing a bottle of wine and talking about Marina’s monkey/thief, Pierre. When I’d tried to think of somewhere to go earlier, I found myself instinctively driving in the direction of the circus. I’d lied when I’d told King and Elaine that I had things to do, but it was a white lie. I could have gone to my parents’ house, or even to Karla’s, but for some reason I wanted to spend time with these women, talk to them about King because they were the ones who knew him best these days.