King of Pride (Kings of Sin, #2)(41)

“Please.” My half gasp, half whimper would’ve been embarrassing had I been in my right mind.

I couldn’t draw enough oxygen into my lungs. My head grew light, every ounce of consciousness arrowing to the heat building in my center.

“And here I thought I’d never hear you beg.” Kai’s silken murmur traveled the length of my spine and dropped between my legs. It pulsed with an empty ache as he pushed my panties to the side and rubbed a thumb over my sensitized clit.

My vision hazed.

I didn’t see when he pushed my top up and closed his mouth around my nipple, or when he pushed a finger deep enough inside me to make me cry out. Time lost all meaning as he consumed me, licking and sucking and playing me with ruthless precision until I writhed with mindless pleasure.

I was practically lying on top of the piano at this point, and a sharp cry tore from my throat when he pressed the most sensitive spot inside me. I thrashed and bucked, my hand accidentally hitting the exposed ivory keys.

Discordant notes spilled into the air, masking the existing, filthy symphony of moans, whimpers, and the wet sounds of his fingers plunging in and out of me.

My arousal dripped down my thighs and onto the Steinway’s lacquered top. I was nothing but sensation, lost in a rhythm that was both too much and not enough.

“That’s it, love.” Gravel transformed Kai’s soft words into a rough command. “Be a good girl and come for me.”

That was all it took.

My orgasm scorched through me like gasoline set ablaze. Higher, hotter, crashing over me in wave after wave until I was so spent I could do little more than lie there, limp and spent while Kai cleaned me up.

Languid contentment spread through me as he wiped my thighs with something soft—a handkerchief, maybe—and gently tugged my clothes back into place.

“Well, that’s one way to celebrate Thanksgiving,” I said drowsily. “Much better than the Macy’s parade.”

His soft laugh blanketed my skin. “Technically, it’s Thanksgiving Eve.”

Kai helped me off the piano and onto my feet, though my knees were so weak I wobbled a bit before I regained my balance.

Sometime between giving me one of the best orgasms of my life and now, he’d put his glasses back on. His hair was mussed from my hands, and flags of color stained the crests of his cheeks, but he was still far more put together than I was.

“If you have the clarity of mind to know what day it is, something’s wrong.” I dropped my eyes to where his arousal tented his pants. My throat dried, and a fresh wave of heat coasted through my stomach. “When is your flight again?”

Do we have time for a second round? The real meaning behind my question wasn’t lost on either of us.

Heat darkened his eyes, followed by a rueful smile. “I have a conference call in half an hour. Last one before the holiday. Apparently, it’s the only time that works for everyone.”

He was turning down sex for a business call?

I tried not to look too insulted.

“We’ll talk next week when we have more time,” Kai said. “This was…that is, I didn’t expect…”

He faltered, looking so adorably flustered that I couldn’t hold on to my annoyance.

He was right. The day before Thanksgiving wasn’t the best time for a deep dive on whatever we had. He’d fingered me in the piano room of the club where I worked, for Christ’s sake—the same club that would throw me out on my ass and blackball me if people found out what happened.

I needed time to think about what to do next when I wasn’t riding a post-orgasmic high.

The inklings of dread returned. How did I always find myself in these situations?

By making bad decisions, a voice sang in my head. By never having a plan and ending up in places you don’t want to be.

I didn’t bother refuting it. I couldn’t if I tried.

“Makes sense.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, suddenly feeling unsure. Our tension had exploded spectacularly after weeks, maybe even months, of buildup, and now we had to deal with the aftermath. The problem was, I always sucked at cleanup. I was forever getting into messes with no vision of how to get myself out.

Kai and I lapsed into silence as we finished straightening the room and ourselves out. He seemed as lost for words as I was, though he could just be mentally prepping for his call, I thought sourly.

I exited the room first, but I didn’t make it two steps before I came to an abrupt halt. My stomach dropped several inches.

There was someone in the hall.

Tall, broad, and utterly terrifying, the behemoth of a man stared down at me, his face expressionless. His eyes were an icy, unsettling blue, so pale they were almost colorless. His dark hair was cropped short, and a vicious scar slashed diagonally across his face from eyebrow to chin, bisecting it into two otherwise flawless halves. If it weren’t for the scar and those shiver-inducing eyes, he could’ve made a killing as a model with those cheekbones.

My gaze dipped, and a jolt ran through me at the sight of thick red burns twisting around his neck like a rope. Unlike the flat coldness of his stare, the burns seemed to pulse with rage under my scrutiny, as if they were seconds away from leaping off his skin and strangling me.

An answering pressure wrapped around my throat. The amount of pain he must’ve endured to get those scars…