Page 39 of Claimed By the Ruthless King

Like a helpless dog obeying his master once again, I walk back until my back hits the wall.

“Hands at your sides, Miss Bennett,” he says, standing in front of me. “If I see you touching yourself, you’ll spend the rest of your life thinking about what we could have had.”

“What we could have had, sir?”

“Fun,” he whispers in my ear before standing back, massaging his cock.

I stare at his length, imagining him inside of me, drooling at the thought.

My pussy burns, clit red from how much I have been stretched to my limits today—and not in the good way.

I zero in on his cock. A thick vein cords all the way up his shaft, pulled tight when he reaches the tip, foreskin unravelling to reveal the part of him I want most in my mouth.

I lick my lips, really taking this dog narrative to the fucking extreme as I salivate like an animal, staring at my owner as he holds my favorite treat in the palm of his hand, refusing to give me a taste.

“This is so unfair.”

“So is my assistant going behind my back.”

I glance at his chest, biceps contracting as he smooths his incredible hands over his cock. The clenched jaw tells me he’s reaching the end. Salvatore releases a choked moan, the most beautiful sound in all the world.

Muscles move in his chest, bringing the tattoo to life. I watch his chest, staring at the crow, letting everything sink in, the boy with the bleached face, the rags to riches story; the overly expensive three-piece suits Salvatore wears every day; the green eyes, even more expensive than the suits he wears. He should be a walking red flag. Instead, his eyes scream, yes please.

Before I can take my next breath, Salvatore grabs me. He slides his cock all the way into my mouth, finishing.

Warm liquid squirts to the back of my throat. I savor the taste, swallowing every last drop, aware that he’s watching all of this unfold.

“Swallow your boss’s cum,” he says, praising me. “Good girl.” He then stands back, eyes lowering to my pussy, which is still drenched. “Get dressed.”

“But—”

“You heard me,” he says, folding his arms over his chest. “Let this be a lesson. That pretty face might have saved you in the past, sweet darling, but when you play with fire around me, you get burned. And your weeping pussy will pay the consequences for the rest of the day.”

12

SALVATORE

The stock market is the least of my worries today.

I head to the cafeteria, grabbing a coffee to-go. People pass by, employees trying to get my attention.

“Later,” I grumble, heading to the elevators for some peace and quiet.

I was striding into the restroom earlier, coming to collect the folder Robert had left for me. He was looking through old, useless information he kept safe in a folder, back when we were in the Crows together.

After looking through and not finding anything useful, he asked me to take a look, see if he missed anything that could be of use to us.

Not twenty minutes after Robert left the folder, I see Ophelia staring at a fucking polaroid, basically confirming everything.

That attitude can get her far, but does she really have what it takes to attack my informant all the way in Queens. Something isn’t quite adding up, especially when I head into my office to see Robert looking at me gravely.

“What?”

“Lenny.”

“A few more words are needed.”

Rob circles his face in demonstration. “Doesn’t my face say enough. He’s dead.”