Page 13 of His Kidnapped Queen
“Sophia. Little pixie,” he murmurs, taking my hand. He brings it to his mouth and just slightly brushes his lips across my knuckles.
A thrill shoots through me, and I lean in, close enough to smell whiskey on his breath.
He’s still holding my hand and he tugs me up. I totter on my heels then get it together, following his long strides to a car that looks like it’s worth more than my kidneys. Both of them.
The door opens when he presses a button on a key fob, and he helps me slide into the passenger side. I don’t expect him to lean in, but he does, putting on my seatbelt. I can smell whiskey and sandalwood and I want to grab him, kiss him.
But I don’t. I wait, quietly putting my clutch and my hands in my lap as he shuts the door and gets in on the driver’s side.
“Good girl,” he mumbles under his breath, but I catch it and another thrill shoots up my spine.
Usually, in the bedroom, I’m in control. I like to take action, but most men just take it. I’d like a man to fight back, maybe…take control from me.
It’s a fantasy I’ve had for a long time.
He reaches over, placing his hand high up on my thigh and the breath leaves my lungs. I spread my thighs instinctively.
He raises an eyebrow, his fingers creeping between my legs. I don’t stop him, just biting my lip, looking at him as I spread my legs further.
He hooks his fingers into the crotch of my thong, sliding it aside before drawing his fingers slowly up my wet slit.
I moan in a low voice.
“Right here, pixie? Where anyone could see us?”
“Anywhere,” I manage. At that moment, I mean it. It’s been so long, and Luca’s thick fingers prodding my entrance makes me hotter than I’ve been in years.
Luca lets out a ragged breath and presses two fingers up to the knuckle inside me. I gasp out a moan, but then he removes his fingers, popping them into his mouth.
He sucks off my juices like they’re something delicious, grinning when I stare at him.
“My place or yours?”
Here, I want to say. Here and now, where anyone can see us.
But instead, I tamp down my desire.
“Mine.”
I have more control if he’s at my place. And he seems like a man who wants to be in control. And my body loves that, but my brain—it says it’s a bad idea.
And maybe it is, but I’m doing it anyway.
After all, what could one night hurt?
We arrive at my place in minutes, and he parks behind my car. I fumble with the keys, but not because I’m drunk.
I’m too damn excited and high on the need coursing through me.
His hands are on my hips as I unlock the front door, his mouth on my throat as soon as we walk into my apartment.
God, his hands.
So large.
All over me.
Squeezing the globes of my ass, trailing up my sides to cup my breasts.
