Page 11 of Ruined By King

"You shouldn't be here." I set my glass down carefully, deliberately. "Your father finds out you set foot in this clubhouse⁠—"

"He won't."

"If anyone saw you⁠—"

"No one saw me." She pushes off the door and walks toward me, slow and deliberate, her eyes never leaving mine. "I was careful."

"This is insane."

"I know."

"You're risking everything."

"I know." She stops in front of my desk, close enough to touch. "I don't care."

The air between us feels combustible. Every instinct I have is screaming at me to grab her, to take what she's offering, to stop pretending I have any willpower left when it comes to this woman.

"You should care," I say, and my voice is barely recognizable. "I'm not a good man, Demi. I'm not going to be gentle with you. And once I have you, I'm not going to let you go."

"Good." She holds my gaze, unflinching. "I don't want gentle. And I didn't come here to talk."

Something snaps.

I'm around the desk before I can think, my hands fisting in her jacket, hauling her against me. Her gasp is the sweetest sound I've ever heard.

"You want to play with fire?" I growl against her mouth. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you."

And then I kiss her.

It's not soft. It's not tender. It's pure, raw need — months of wanting, days of obsessing, all of it pouring into her mouth at once. She moans and I swallow the sound, my tongue sweeping against hers, claiming her, consuming her.

Her hands grab my cut, pulling me closer, and I fucking love that she's greedy for it. Greedy for me.

I walk her backward until her ass hits the edge of my desk, then I lift her onto it in one motion, stepping between her thighs. She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me in, and the heat of her pressed against my cock makes me groan into her mouth.

"You have any idea what you do to me?" I pull back just enough to look at her — flushed cheeks, swollen lips, eyes dark with want. "Any idea how many times I've thought about this?"

"Tell me."

"Every fucking night since that rally." I grip her hips, grinding her against me, and watch her eyes flutter. "I've been hard thinking about you. Jerking off to the memory of that kiss, imagining what you'd taste like everywhere else."

Her breath catches. "King— I need⁠—"

"I know what you need." I fist my hand in her hair, tilting her head back. "And you're going to get it."

"I'm not shy." Her voice is breathless but defiant. "I just want you to stop talking and fuck me."

Christ.

I crush my mouth to hers again, kissing her until she's whimpering, until her hips are rocking against me desperately. My hands find the hem of her top and yank it up, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull it over her head.

Black lace bra. Of course. Like she dressed for this. Like she knew exactly how tonight was going to go.

"You planned this," I say, tracing my finger along the edge of the lace.

"Maybe." She arches into my touch. "Maybe I've been thinking about this just as much as you have."

I unclip the bra and toss it aside, and then her tits are bare and perfect and I can't think about anything except getting my mouth on them. I dip my head and take one nipple between my lips, sucking hard, and she cries out, her fingers digging into my shoulders.