Page 30 of All Hale the Queen

“Fuck,” I grit out as she sucks, rolling her tongue around the globe while she slowly jacks me off with her hand, giving a little twist each time she reaches the root. By the time she gives the same attention to the other ball, sweat droplets bead on my forehead and my abdominal muscles are tightened like I’ve just done two hundred situps.

Then she works her way back up my cock, dragging her teeth tightly along the surface. When she gets to the head, she stops, her smile demure and filled with bad intentions.

“Both hands in my hair,” she orders. “Fuck my mouth like I’m your good little slut.”

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, sinking my hands into her perfectly coiffed hair, determined to muss her as much as possible.

She takes me beautifully, bobbing her head up and down and matching my demanding thrusts without missing a beat. It doesn’t take long before I’m tugging on her hair, attempting to pull her off.

“Darlin’, I’m about to blow in your mouth,” I warn, but she doesn’t relent, grabbing my arse with one hand and not allowing me to pull out.

My vision doubles as I grunt through my release, the sounds guttural and animalistic. Ophelia’s eyes water and saliva drips from her mouth, but she swallows me like the good girl she is. She’s a complete mess by the time I’m done with her, and I shouldn’t like it as much as I do.

Once I’m spent, I use my remaining strength to sweep her off the ground and into my arms. “As much as I like seeing you on your knees for me, it should be the other way around. I should be worshipping you, love.”

Her swollen lips tip up into a smile. “I wouldn’t complain about that.”

Chuckling, I set her on the countertop and grab a washcloth and her foaming face wash. With a gentle touch, I use my fingers to wash her face before wetting the cloth with warm water to clean the foam away.

Her eyes are watery when she cups my face. “Thank you for taking care of me, Antonio.”

I’m not sure if she’s talking about the cleanup or rescuing her from Jenkins earlier, but I think maybe it’s a bit of both. Leaning my forehead against hers, I close my eyes and inhale the clean scent of her skin.

“My sweet, it’s my absolute honor.”

Chapter 11

Ophelia

Islump onto Antonio’s chest, my head nestled into the crook of his neck. He’s lounged against the arm of the settee in my bedroom, and I’m still straddling him.

“My knees are too old for this shit,” I murmur against his damp skin, smiling at his rumble of laughter.

“You did just fine in my book, darlin’,” he croons, rubbing those big hands up and down my bare back. He nudges me with his chin until I look up at him. “Do you know how crazy I am about you? It hasn’t even been two months, and I’m already addicted to you.”

My throat tightens with so many emotions. “I’m crazy about you too.” I press my lips to his and ask the question that’s been niggling at me. “Where do you see this going?”

Antonio traces a finger in a slow path across my forehead, down my cheek, and over my lips. “I’m still not sure I’m the right man for you, but I’ll be damned if I can stay away.”

I hold his eyes with my own. “Why do you think you’re not right for me? The sex is obviously great,” I say, glancing down to where we’re still joined. “Unless you’ve been faking it.”

He laughs heartily. “I think you know by the way I drip down your pretty thighs every time we’re done that I’m not faking it.”

“Point taken,” I reply with a grin, sitting up and touching him all over. The man is seriously gorgeous in the most masculine, rugged way. His beard is dark with just enough gray to look distinctive, and his body would rival a man twenty years his junior. But those green eyes are my undoing. They can cut glass when he’s angry or simmer like a melted emerald while we’re being intimate.

Antonio seems to be struggling to find an explanation to my question. “I grew up from humble beginnings. I have money, but I’m not rich like…”

“Like me?” I prod gently, and he nods. “J.P. is wealthy. Do you think he’s better suited to me?”

The scowl on Antonio’s face should have struck me dead. “Fuck no, Ophelia.”

I hold his face so he has to look me in the eye. “Wealth doesn’t define the size of your heart. It defines the size of your bank account, and that simply doesn’t matter to me.” Leaning forward, I press a kiss to his full lips. “Is there any other reason you’re not good for me? I know you’d never harm me, but are you a serial cheater or something?”

He appears affronted. “Fuck no. I would never cheat, love.” His fingers brush a strand of hair from my face. “Did your ex-husband cheat on you? You told me you’ve been divorced for twenty-one years, and I know Haywood and Rebecca had Perri twenty-three years ago.”

I blow out a sigh. “I guess it’s time we talked about my marriage. Let’s get cleaned up first. It’s a long story.”

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