Page 100 of LA King

“I was talking quietly because I was outside and it was a private conversation. You have guards patrolling this place twenty-four hours a day. And I’m not acting suspiciously,” she says, her chin tilted up in defiance.

“Seemed like you didn’t want me to hear you.”

She shrugs. “Well, I suppose you’re right about that. You and my father aren’t exactly friends. I didn’t want us to get into a discussion about him, that’s all. I’m not hiding anything.” She holds her arms out wide. “I’m an open book.”

I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Your father is no enemy of mine. After all, he gave me you.”

She smiles and leans closer, pressing her breasts against me and sending all the blood from my brain straight to my cock. “I suppose so. But he’s not a huge fan of yours, for obvious reasons.”

Did he tell her about our little meeting tomorrow? Suspicion continues to niggle at my brain like a parasite. I have no reason to be suspicious of her, but I didn’t like hearing her tell another man she loves him, even if it was her snake of a father. “If I find out you’re lying to me, Alana …”

“I’m not,” she insists. “I wouldn’t lie to you. But I did lie to my father.”

“About what?”

She looks up at me with those huge brown eyes. “He told me not to trust you, and I told him that I don’t. It was easier than arguing with him.”

I trace my fingertips along her cheekbone, loving how her eyes light up at the briefest touch. “So you do trust me?”

“You know I do. I can, can’t I?”

“As much as you can ever trust a devil.” I dip my head and dust kisses up her neck. She smells of vanilla and cherries, and I’m suddenly desperate for her.

I pull her sweater off. Pleased to find she isn’t wearing a bra, I trail my mouth lower and suck one of her nipples into my mouth. She moans, running her fingers through my hair.

When I tug her yoga pants down below her ass, I’m even more pleased to discover she isn’t wearing panties either. “Buena chica,” I mumble against her skin.

I drop to my knees, finish removing her pants, and bury my head between her thighs, inhaling her sweet scent. Fuck me, she’s addictive. All thoughts of her father and what he was phoning her about are temporarily banished from my mind. I deliver a quick kiss to her pussy before I stand again and lift her so she can wrap her legs around my waist. Impatient, I throw her on the bed and strip as fast as I can.

“Spread those legs for me, princesa. I want to see what belongs to me,” I growl, and she obeys instantly, her pussy glistening with how wet she already is for me.

My good girl.

As soon as I’m naked, I crawl over her, pin her arms above her head, and sink inside her, making her groan.

I had a shitty day, and my anger from the phone call I overheard still lingers somewhere. The best way I know to make it all better is to bury myself in her.

So that’s what I do. Over and over again.

I’m too rough with her. I fuck her harder than I’ve ever fucked anyone in my life. I bite and suck her tender flesh, marking her skin with my very own brand. With each thrust, I try to get farther inside her until there isn’t anywhere left for me to go. She takes it all without a whimper of complaint. Instead, she claws at my back like she needs more.

When I finally make her come, she screams my name so loud I think the people in the next house must hear her.

Lying in bed, I listen to Alana’s breathing beside me. She’s been asleep for hours, but I’m still wide awake. Lucy Callaghan is playing on my mind along with the phone call I overheard when I got home. Based on Alana’s phone records, Carmichael has barely spoken to his daughter since she got here. She speaks to Kristen, Lucy, Hugo, Kelsey, potential donors, and me. So why the fuck did he call her right after he and I arranged a meeting? Is he trying to set a trap for me? Does he intend to see her while he’s here? Fill her head with more lies about me?

While I do trust my wife, I don’t trust him. He’s a lying snake, and he’s good at it too. He manipulates Alana so fucking easily, preying on her love for him and using it against her. Perhaps it’s time she learns the type of man he truly is.

She faces away from me, her long, dark hair splayed across her pillow. She likes to fall asleep on my chest, but she always gets too hot and rolls over onto her side.

This woman is nothing like her father. Everything about her is good and pure, and she can’t be that good a liar. Nobody is. All the things we’ve done and said these past few months can’t be a lie.

I plant a kiss on her shoulder and slip my hand between her thighs.

“Alex?” she groans sleepily.

Pressing my body against hers, I put my mouth to her ear. “Open your legs for me, princesa. I want inside you.”

My cock throbs at how easily she lifts her leg and hooks it over mine, allowing me better access. She’s perfect. I rub her clit in slow, teasing circles, and she moans. She flinches when I push the tip of my cock into her dripping wet heat, and I feel guilty—but not so guilty that I won’t fuck her again anyway.