by LK Collins
But he keeps showing me more. I can see now firsthand why he has been named a genius in the architectural world. His work is breathtaking and hearing him talk about it shows me how passionate he is about everything. Opening a set of French doors that line the east side of his room, he steps out onto a huge rooftop deck. “Now, this I added,” he says and the breathtaking views of the Atlantic Ocean are something out of a movie.
“Are you sure you didn’t move this house here? This location is perfect.”
I walk to the railing and look out at the vast ocean. King wraps his arms around me from behind, his scent intoxicating to my cogent thinking. Closing my eyes, I breathe him in and get lost in the noise of the ocean, mixed with him.
Tenderly, he kisses my neck, sending a chill through my body. I shiver from head to toe and he nudges his cock against me. Reaching back, I take it in my hand and grip it through his pants. Quickly he unzips them, letting them fall to the ground. I look around, my eyes wild. “Are you crazy?” I whisper.
“For you.” He lifts my tank top above my head and my breasts spring free, nipples hard the moment the air touches them.
“Are you sure no one can see us up here?”
“So what if they can?” He leans down and wraps his warm lips over one of my nipples. With his shaft back in my hand, I eagerly tug it, the sensation running through my veins is too good to fight.
He shimmies my pants and underwear down, then slides two fingers into me. My eyes roll back in my head as he holds me in his arms. “I love your pussy,” he murmurs working my insides, and I am lost under his spell.
I let go of his cock and brace my weight on the railing, wrapping my legs firmly around him. He doesn’t waste one second before entering me and I clench my pussy right away as he pumps me for what feels like ten minutes or ten seconds…I’m so lost. The force of the fullness is too much and without warning, I come hard, his shaft taking my body where he wants. My full body convulsing as I scream into his neck and he grunts right along with me, letting go at the precise time I do. “Fuck,” he grunts, still slamming into me as we both come back to reality. “I could fuck you all night.”
“Well…you do have thirty-six hours.”
A naughty grin spans his face and he carries me back inside. His cock still pulsating and hard inside me as he lays me on his plush bed. My eyes are heavy as he splays his hand over my stomach, moving in and out of me again. Fucking me like a machine. God, the stamina he has is mind-blowing.
Each thrust is blissful, my body so hot as he pushes me to my max. Filling me full of his huge cock. “Fuck, King,” I whine.
“That’s it, let me hear you, baby.”
I moan louder and harder, his hand still over my stomach as he rocks me. “Yes, like that,” I tell him as he adjusts his angle and rubs my G-spot.
“Is that what you like?” His voice is rough and I look deep into his eyes, wanting to respond. But can’t. I’m right there. He takes both of his hands and presses me into the bed, still standing on the floor, and I freeze as an orgasm so fucking intense shocks my body from the inside out.
It takes a moment for the pleasure to roll through me, then wildly, I yell his name, which only makes him fuck me harder and that makes the come that much more intense. Gripping the sheets beneath me King gives me one good slam, I’ve already come to recognize as his signature move that he does right before he comes inside me, I relish in the fullness of his cock and his cum.
He pushes every drop inside me, and I run my fingers through his messy hair as his head hangs down low. “I can’t stop,” he tells me, still moving.
And I can’t help but giggle reminding him, “We have thirty-six hours.”
“It’s not enough, I could fuck you for thirty-six hours straight and still need more of you.”
Cupping his face in the palm of my hand, which he nudges against like it holds the key to his next breath, I tell him, “I kinda have to pee.”
“Then pee.”
“Yuck,” I shout and hit him.
He smirks and slowly pulls out of me. “See? That feeling, I don’t like it. I need to be inside you.”
I look down at his cock, all shiny from fucking, and walk to the bathroom. “You’re a piece of work, King.”
“You do this to me, Ever,” he shouts after me.
I smile as I use the restroom, admiring the artwork on the wall. It is of an old worn-down building. When I first met King, I would have never guessed by the way he looks or his tattoos that he would be into this sort of stuff. Walking back into the bedroom, King is nowhere to be seen. “King?” I shout.
“I’m out here,” he says.
And I walk back onto the rooftop deck, covering my naked body as I exit the house. King is removing the lid to his hot tub and says, “No one can see us up here, I promise.”
“Why did you say they could earlier?” I look around and before I can scan the whole area, he swoops me off my feet, kissing my lips as he carries me into the hot tub. “I was just fuckin’ with you.” The water is hot and stings my skin. I flinch in his hold and ask him, “Don’t you think this is hot?”
“A little. Find pleasure in the pain, Ever.”
With my arms wrapped around his neck, I look deep into his blue eyes. “What?” he asks me.
“Nothing.”
“What are you thinking, when you look at me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Tell me,” he requests and I find my heart stammering against my chest unable to put together the right words, so I say to him, “You tell me.”
He tilts his head to the side and takes a hand out from beneath the water, gently touching my lips. I love looking down at his tattoos. They do something to me inside, awakening me. “I’m thinking you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on.”
“What else?” I ask, loving his words.
He kisses my lips, his thumb in between us, and then he says, “I’m wondering if this is a dream, afraid of what will happen when I wake up.”
“It’s not,” I tell him.
“I’m wondering if you’re the one.”
“Am I?” I ask automatically, my heart racing a million miles a minute having a conversation of this caliber with a man like this, so fresh into our relationship.
“I hope.” He kisses me again, and I hold him back, so touched by his honesty.
“Your turn,” he says as he pulls back.
“I’m wondering why, out of all the women in the world, a guy like you would choose a girl like me.”
“What does that mean?” he asks, confusion covering his features.
“Why me?” I flat out ask.
“You’re perfect.”
“I’m far from it.”
“Tell me more.”
I smile, loving that he wants into my head. “I’m wondering what we are. Where this is going.”
“What do you want us to be?” he flips the question back.
“I don’t know.”
“Then that’s what we are,” he says and I shake my head; his exasperating nature didn’t leave for long. “I’m serious,” I tell him.
“Me too. Maybe we should Google how to categorize a relationship based off of skull fucking.”
“Oh my God, King!”
“Come on, Ever, I’m only joking. We’re dating, monogamously, if that’s what you want.”
“It is.”
“Okay, me too.”
Leaning down, he kisses me and I close my eyes, the warmth of the water and the pressure of his arms around me is too picture-perfect. Kissing him back, his question rings in my head, am I the one? So I ask myself the same thing, could he be the one?
Chapter 16
“I’m surprised you don’t have any staff,” I tell him as we raid his refrigerator.
“See? There you go, letting Google make your mind up about me.”
“That’s not true.” I dig through the bag of shooters he bought me that is on his kitchen island and he says, “Yes, it is
. Think about the man that you now know, would I have staff?”
“I guess not,” I say, opening a tiny bottle of watermelon vodka.
“You thought that because of the way the Internet portrayed me. That was our problem from the beginning – you wouldn’t even give me a chance.”
I take a swig and wish he would get drunk with me. But kinda like how responsible he is at the same time. “No, you were a cocky asshole.”
“I was not, I was caught off guard when you came flying out of your house with that mane of long blonde hair, perky nipples getting me hard, and then your mouth. I wanted to fuck it before you even opened it.”
“I’m not sure that’s even sweet, but thank you.”
“It’s a compliment; you’re gorgeous.”
“And so are you and arrogant and fucking frustrating.”
“Am I now?” he asks kissing the side of my arm.
“Yes, you are.”
“I like to get a rise out of you, what can I say?”
“Nothing, that’s the problem…you say too much,” I tease him and hop off the stool, grabbing more olives from the fridge.
But before I can open the jar, he’s dragging me away and down a set of spiral stairs. “Where are we going?” I ask.
“I totally forgot to bring you down here earlier.”
Once we reach the bottom, directly in front of us is a huge vault door that is propped open, and as we walk inside the room, it is filled from floor to ceiling with old classic safe deposit boxes.
“Holy shit! Are they all empty?”
“The ones without the locks in the doors are.” My eyes scan the wall of boxes. There are so many that are still locked, probably more than half.
“What’s in them?” I ask him.
“You got me.”
“Can you open them?”
“I can open it by drilling out the lock.”
“Why haven’t you?” I shriek, so excited to see something like this.
“I have some. But I don’t do it often. Thinking of them being empty is like that feeling you get on Christmas morning after you open all your presents…then what? At least this way, there is always one waiting for me.”
“When you open one, you’ve gotta let me be here.”
“Let’s do it now,” he says, and I slam the rest of the shooter, so excited for what we are about to do.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely!” he exclaims and kisses me before jogging off.
“Where are you going?” I yell after him.
“To get my drill. Pick the one you want to open.”
I turn back towards the wall, completely flabbergasted at this piece of American history. These boxes belonged to people; they contain their most prized possessions.
Trying to decide on one is so hard. He comes back in with a drill, safety glasses, and a pry bar. “Did you decide?” he asks me, as I look down at all of the tools in his hands.
“How do you choose?”
“I just pick one.”
“Are you even allowed to open them?”
“Yes, they are mine. I acquired them with the house. It had been abandoned for so long and these things are like a hundred years old, no one is coming back to claim anything.”
“What about their families?”
“Ever, I have all the legal documents, why are you so worried?”
“I don’t know, I feel bad.”
“Don’t! Think if it was your stuff in there, would you want it trapped forever or able to live on and tell a story for someone else?”
He knows exactly what to say and I point to the box that caught my eye from the beginning. It’s dead center. “You sure this is the one?”
“If it’s empty, will you let me open another?”
“I have yet to open one and it be empty…but sure.”
He puts the goggles on and sets a pair on my face. Then he places the drill over the keyhole and presses down, sparks flying from the metal against metal. And I can’t help but look at his flexed muscles as he pushes against the drill. Every detail in his forearm is tense, straining and showing his tattoos that much more. His eyes are squinted and finally he stops. “Hand me the pry bar, my assistant?”
“Please?” I tell him.
“Now!” he orders and snatches it out of my hand.
“Have you always lacked manners?” I ask him as sweat beads his forehead and he fights to open the box.
“No, but I grew up in a house with strict ass rules. I couldn’t do a thing without being scrutinized. I had to say ‘yes, ma’am’ or ‘no, sir,’ to my parents. They weren’t Mom and Dad, like the rest of my friends. So when I left the cage I lived in, I left my manners there too.”
His explanation makes sense, but…a simple “please” and “thank you” might make his life a lot easier.
“Here.” He passes the pry bar back to me and starts to drill again, and it’s not long until the lock gives. My heart flutters, I honestly was starting to think he wouldn’t be able to get it open. He sticks the tip of the drill into the hole pulling the door open. And asks me, “Do you want to take it out?”
I shake my head, too afraid as we both look in at the long, orange, tin insert. He pulls it out, the flap of the lid still covering its contents. “Let’s open it out here,” he says, and we walk out of the room taking a seat on a tiny antique sofa. He sets the box in front of us and says, “Whatever is inside is yours.”
“What if its something rare and worth a million dollars?”
“Then it’s yours,” he tells me with a straight face and then waits for me to open the box.
Slowly, I lift the lid and see a bunch of paperwork. Unfolding the papers, they smell musty and look like old letters. I pass them to King and he glances over them then sets them down. Reaching further in, there is a stack of old bonds. Pulling them out, they date back to 1912. King and I look at them together. “This stuff is old,” I tell him.
“It is. I found some coins once from 1792.”
“Where are they?” I ask him.
“I gave them to Galinda. Anything else in there?” he asks me.
Reaching my arm all the way back, I pull out a small envelope. Excited to see what’s inside, I untwist the cord that is connected to the back closure and open it. As I look at it’s contents, I am shocked when a huge garnet pendant stares back at me. It is the same as my mom’s birthstone, so I can’t help but feel she is with me right now. Removing the necklace from the box, I study it closely. Around the outside of the stone are a ton of small diamonds. King is watching me as I observe it, and I can’t help the tears that glaze over my eyes. “What’s the matter?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I tell him as he wraps me securely in his arms, holding me so close to his chest. “It’s perfect.”
“You like it?” he asks as I hold on to the stone as if it was part of my past.
“Yeah, it’s my mom’s birthstone.”
He lets me go and I hand it to him. Carefully he examines the gold and I’m so surprised at how great the condition is. Then, catching me by surprise, he slips it over my head. It falls down my chest, landing between my breasts and he says, “I like it on you.”
I look down, trying to see it myself. The dark red glimmers in the low light of this surreal area. I don’t wear jewelry often, being a chef and all – it can get in the way. But the comfort of this piece around my neck feels so right that I never want to take it off. King leans down and kisses the stone, then my lips. The gesture is so sweet, but that is who he is. Under all those layers lives a very generous and sweet man.
Chapter 17
“Can I at least have a hint?” I ask King about dinner, needing to know where we are going.
“No way!”
“Do you have any idea as a chef how hard it is to eat out?”
“Oh, save it. You took me to that hell hole of a diner and gorged on their ninety-nine cent breakfast.”
“That’s different, I’ve been eating there since I was a
kid.”
“Well, I can promise you this – where we are going is way better than that diner.”
I look down at the black gown I am wearing, happy that I actually got to use it for a purpose other than getting drunk and passing out.
“What if I hate the food?”
“Then you can tell the chef.”
“King!” I scold him. “That’s not the answer I was looking for.”
“What do you want me to say?” he asks looking mouthwateringly hot in another one of his suits.
“I don’t know,” I grumble, my attention diverted to my necklace as the weight of it is still something that I am adjusting too.
“Would you have a little faith in me?”
“I do.”
He wraps his hand in mine as we wait in a line of cars. “You can go around them,” I say as I look out my window.
“No, I can’t, this is the valet line.”
Excitedly my eyes scan the area in search of our destination, and when I spot it, my heart flurries. “Are we going to Chef Lorenzo Dellagio’s new restaurant?”
“Yup!”
“How did you get us in?”
“He’s a friend; I designed one of his houses.”
“Shut up!”
“Is that a question?” he asks me, and I sit, dumbfounded. Completely astonished by what we are about to do.
“Who else have you worked with?”
“A lot of people, too many to name.”
“Does he know we’re coming and what I do?”
“Uh huh,” he says like it’s no big thing, and I feel like I could crawl out of my skin. Chef Dellagio is my idol. I’ve looked up to him for as long as I can remember. Pulling down the mirror, I check my hair and makeup. King closes it before I finish and says, “You look perfect.”
Then my door opens and the valet says, “Welcome to Dellagio’s.”
“Thank you,” I say and reach for King’s hand as he comes around the car to help me stand, buttoning his suit coat as he looks around before we walk inside.
My palms are sweaty walking in with King. The hostess greets us and he says, “Two, under Lennox.”
“Right this way, Mr. Lennox.”