Page 91 of The KING Review

He kisses me, tongue rough and devouring, then pulls back. His eyes narrow—all tease, no menace. “You really want the data?”

“I want the data, the footnotes, and the case studies,” I say, and he grins, grip tightening on my wrists. My back arches into the tile. Steam haloes behind his head, like he’s some kind of dirty, delicious archangel—which, I don’t know, maybe he is.

He lowers his mouth to my ear, his voice a rough shiver. “The real premise of my research? It’s about how kink imagery hits different when you’re not in a group setting or with an audience. When it’s just you and someone else, the feedback loop is everything. That’s what gets people off. Not just the fantasy, but the way it bounces between you and your partner and amps up every time you admit what you want.”

I let myself savor that for exactly one second. “You mean if I tell you exactly how I want to get fucked, it’ll make you want it more?”

“Not just me, angel. It works both ways.” He nuzzles down my throat, tongue flicking the knot of my pulse, then pins me with a look. “You ever notice how, when you say what you want out loud, the need gets sharper? How if I say, ‘I want to fuck you against the tiles until you can’t stand,’ it actually makes both of us hungrier for it?”

Oh, shit.

I shudder, hips rocking helplessly against his. “Yeah, that’s—yeah. Also, yes, please.”

He grins, and the sheer force of it feels like a knee to the chest, so the breath wheezes out of me.

“When it’s just you and your partner, the imagery—the words, the details, the fantasy—it’s gotta be dialed up. You don’t have the extra ‘fuel on the fire’ of additional parties in the scene, so to speak. And when your partner reacts, when they give you feedback? It’s like gasoline. It amplifies the arousal. It makes everything hotter, filthier, and best of all—more real.”

My mouth goes dry. “Like, if I said I want you to bend me over the counter and spank me until I cry, and you told me you want to see tears streaming down my face while you fuck me… It’s not just hotter, it could be exponential.”

Grant groans. “Exactly. You create the fantasy together—in real time. Every word, every sound, every look? It feeds the loop. It’s why hearing your own wants reflected back at you is such a high.”

I’m vibrating; no other word for it.

His hand slides down my arm, over my shoulder, closing around my throat. My breath catches. “What if I told you I want to squeeze? Does that scare you? Do you need to celebrate a small victory?”

I shake my head as much as I can when his huge hand is wrapped around my neck. “No. I’d say yes. Please. I’d say I want you to hold me like this while you fuck me. Please, Daddy?”

Grant groans, the sound of a man seconds from losing it. His hand tightens around my throat—not a real squeeze, but the threat that a squeeze exists.

“God, baby girl,” he rasps. “You want Daddy to choke you while he fucks you against this wall?”

“Yes, please,” I gasp, squirming in his hold. He turns me, the tile freezing on my breasts as he crushes my body against it, but everywhere Grant touches is fire.

He crowds in behind me, hips flush to my ass. I feel the soft, swollen head of his cock slide between my thighs, nudging through the slick, then back up, dragging perfect and slow over the fat, wet line of my pussy. His hand stays locked at my throat, the other splaying wide over my hip, pinning me in place.

“Look at you,” he whispers, nuzzling the edge of my jaw, beard scratchy and hot. “You love this, don’t you, angel? You want to be held down, choked, used. You want Daddy’s cock so fucking bad I bet you’d take it anywhere I wanted, wouldn’t you?”

The air in the shower comes to life.

“I’d take it anywhere you want, any way you want,” I pant, rolling my hips back, grinding on the wicked, obscene length of him.

He huffs a broken laugh. “Yeah? You want Daddy to fuck your pretty little pussy, then bend you over and fill your ass until you’re dripping down your thighs? You want both?”

Oh my God. My brain blue-screens. I whimper, desperate, lost to this and lost to him.

He snaps his hips forward, cock grinding against my drenched slit. The head catches on my clit, slick and obscene, and I whine.

“Jesus Christ, you’re going to kill me.” His laugh is rough. “You want to be my perfect little fucktoy?”

“Yes,” I choke out. “Please, Grant—I need you.”

He lines up, nudging the swollen head of his cock right at my entrance, but still doesn’t push in.

I might die from this.

I try to push back, desperate for friction, but he just laughs, low and dark.

“Greedy girl.” Grant murmurs. “Squirming like that for me. So desperate.”