Page 73 of Claimed By the Ruthless King

Ophelia sings the most wonderful fucking tune as I suck her nipples, rendering them hard.

“Good girl,” I affirm, lowering her onto her back. “Nice and relaxed for me. Let me take care of you.”

I remove the rest of the dress, throwing it out into the room. From this height, the city looks peaceful. The floor-to-ceiling windows in this room lend a pleasant view of Manhattan, but I’m not interested in looking through the window tonight.

Ophelia is far more interesting than New York. I could stare at her body for the rest of my life and never get bored, admiring those puckered nipples and the soft swell of her breasts from now until forever.

I trail my fingers over her black lace panties, lifting the hem.

Ophelia squirms on the bed, buckling her hips. I remove her panties and she opens her legs nice and wide for me, letting me see all of her.

I kneel before her, slipping my hands under her ass, bringing her close.

I lick her center, finding her clit, flicking it back and forth with the tip of my tongue.

My cock awakens in my pants. My body needs to be in her more than it needs oxygen to breathe, but I ignore my arousal. Ophelia comes first. She always does.

She doesn’t deserve to be thrown over my desk and fucked. She deserved to be worshipped. She deserves my tongue on her pussy as I stimulate her nice and slow, taking my time, allowing her intoxicating scent to wrap around me, stealing me from this world.

“I need you to fuck me,” she says.

I remain on my knees, flicking her clit with my tongue, bringing her right to the edge, but not over. I want us to climax together and finish in unison as we ride through the waves of our pleasure together, me guiding her through every step.

I look up at her, finding her eyes on me. Her breasts heave with each staggered breath, and suddenly I’m like a kid in a candy store, not sure where to focus my attention.

Everything tastes amazing.

I climb up her body, swirling my tongue over her nipples, giving each supple breast a little slap. I love watching them contort under my palm.

I lower over her, planting a tender kiss to her lips while undoing my belt, shoving my pants down.

I rise from her, taking my pants fully off, tossing them out into the room.

Ophelia looks at my chest, looking at the faded crow tattoo.

I grind my jaw. Ophelia is the only woman who knows the meaning behind the tattoo, who knows me away from the money, the business.

A small part of my inner consciousness is telling me to run away. She knows too much, and knowledge equals disaster.

But I always feel a gravitational pull toward this woman. I felt the same way when she first sat down at the interview table opposite me. She was everything I had never seen before. My success didn’t bother her. She wasn’t interested in getting to know me. She was only interested in herself, in her own success; wanting to live a life on her own terms away from the opinions of others. She was the sun after a very long winter, and I knew that she was going to make a difference at Moretti Global.

But of course, she has her own issues. Losing a parent is tough at any age, but in your early twenties? I can only imagine. Stepping into adulthood without your parents can be a very daunting experience.

I only ever had Renato Vieri guiding me, and I poured all my trust in the wrong man. I killed people because he told me to. I never knew why these people needed to die, but I listened, I trusted, and now I’m on top of my pretty little assistant.

Ophelia and I wouldn’t have even met if it wasn’t for the Crows.

If I had parents, I never would have had an incentive to work hard.

Staring into Ophelia’s enchanting eyes, I wonder if I can guide us both onto better paths. I want to be a better man for her, and I’ve never wanted to be that for anyone, not even for myself.

If I can save these boys from the Crows, perhaps I can heal the lost boy who still lives inside of me.

I kiss Ophelia on the lips while sliding all the way into her pussy.

Ophelia moans, her fingernails clawing at my shoulders as she wraps her arms around me, holding on tight.

I move on top of her, our hips crashing together. I’m already in a position to finish, but I restrain myself, driving into her slow and deep, making every thrust count.