27. Kingsley #2
Holden leaves the front counter to close up for the night. He didn’t recognize my face, but he sure recognized my name. Clearly I don’t use my privileges to their full potential, but using my name to boss people around makes me cringe. It makes me the stuck-up rich brat some make me out to be.
But everyone once in a while, it can’t hurt.
“Ah, yes. Everyone does as the prince says,” Rip teases. “All hail Kingsley.”
I roll my eyes as I adjust my pants. I need to get off, like, yesterday.
Ten minutes later, the rooftop is deserted, and Holden is locking up. He says the roof is ours, but the other floors are still being used, so he’ll be back in about an hour. That is more than enough time.
The fairy lights and heater maintain a warm and lit ambiance, contrasting with the chilly surroundings and night sky. Rip and I are tearing each other’s clothes off like animals the moment the door shuts and locks, tossing them all over the place.
Rip pushes me over a table, my back against it as he hovers over me.
With a soft song from the speakers and the traffic humming beneath us, we can’t see anything but building tops from where we lie.
It’s another comfort knowing our naked bodies will be out in the open, even if logically no one should be able to see us.
But the greatest comfort is knowing Rip is with me. When I’m with him, all my fears about how parts of me have changed in the past year vanish. They’re sure to come back, but at least for a little while, my mind is quiet.
Rip, reading my mind, traces his finger over my chest.
“Don’t worry, King. Your beautiful face, sexy body, and huge dick are for no one’s eyes but mine. Trust me.”
I let out a breath as I relax, reveling in the way he touches me. He leans in and kisses me, starting at my neck to my chest, then my thighs, and stopping at my aching length. He lingers there, knowing it’s making my head spin. It’s why he’s doing it.
“Fuck, Rip,” I groan. “Suck me off.”
He smirks. “Say please.”
I buck my hips forward, and my tip brushes the corner of his mouth. He takes his palm and pushes my hips down, holding me in place.
“Say please,” he repeats.
I swallow my pride and whine, “Please.”
“With pleasure.”
I gasp as the warmth of his mouth envelops my throbbing dick. The walls of his mouth squeeze against me, sending pulses through my entire body. I bite the inside of my cheek, trying not to alert the neighbors to how amazing his piercing feels, scraping against my length.
He spreads my thighs apart as his tongue swirls and sucks me. For a guy who has barely sucked dick, he’s a goddamn natural.
A rough, unexpected finger jamming into me causes my head to recoil. Rip continues to work his mouth on me as his finger moves in and out of my asshole. The dual sensation has me moaning like no one has ever made me before. No one but Rip.
When I come into his mouth without warning, he swallows every drop. He pulls off of me with a pop, and my muscles relax, thinking it’s over. But Rip has other plans.
He pushes another finger in, scissoring as he strokes my limp dick. I don’t get a break as he tries to get me hard again. It doesn’t take very long for me to spring back up.
“Fuck, you’re eager,” he breathes into my ear. “Still handling it?”
I nod, determined. Rip takes that as a challenge.
A third finger is stuffed inside me, the only lube is Rip’s saliva and pre-cum. I can’t help the groan that escapes me, and I only hope it isn’t echoing into the night. Rip relentlessly finger fucks me, fast and hard, not stopping for anything.
I come all over my chest and his, crying out as I do. Rip rubs my stomach and rides me through my orgasm, and I’m a sputtering flimsy mess by the end.
He plants a peck on my forehead. “You’re so fucking hot. I’ll be right back—don’t move.”
I don’t bother looking to see where he’s going, still dazed from the back-to-back release he put me through. That was the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had, and he didn’t even stick his dick in me. My hole pulses thinking about his thick, pierced cock.
Rip is back not long later, a bottle in his hand. He pours the liquid onto his fingers and then lathers his dick, and that’s when I realize it’s olive oil.
He notices my blank stare. “You alright?”
I nod. “Olive oil?”
“No lube,” he says simply.
Once his cock is nice and glistening, he lines it up with my hole. The tip presses against me, and my asshole clenches. Then he pulls back.
He does that again. And again, teasing me.
“Fuck you,” I murmur hoarsely.
“You want me to fuck you?” he asks cheekily.
Fuck. Do I have to beg? His wide, teasing grin says I do. I nod silently.
Rip waves a finger. “You know I hate it when you don’t speak. Tell me what you want.”
My head drops against the table as I whimper. This has to classify as medieval torture.
“Kingy,” he sings. “I can wait here all night.”
Stupid bastard. “Fuck me, Rip. Please. I need you inside me.”
I swear I boosted his ego ten times higher. “The prince asks, the prince shall receive.”
Rip slides into me with ease, and my stomach fills with his warm girth. I don’t even want to describe the noise that comes out of me, but it sure makes Rip excited. He pulls himself out, then slams into me. Every time he does it, I get pushed farther and farther into ecstasy.
It’s like I was born to take his cock. A traitor or not, Rip is made for me, and I am made for him. If that’s not the truth, the whole world is a lie.
“H-harder,” I manage.
Adhering to my words, Rip slams into me with more force than ever.
Giving himself more access, he wraps my legs around his neck and works himself inside of me, hitting my pleasure spot every time he can.
Rip twists and turns me every way he can, dominating my body and making me his whore, just the way I like it.
He rubs my overly sensitive dick with his free hand, and my body tenses. After two orgasms and teetering on my third, the stimulation is like pins and needles eating away at me. My body tenses around Rip’s neck, but that doesn’t stop him.
“Rip,” I cry. I’m fucking crying again. “I-I’m…”
“What are you, King?” he says between pants. “Are you happy? Close? Mine?”
All three at once.
The pressure builds everywhere in my body, slightly overwhelmingly. I can’t hold back the way my cries echo or how my body submits to him, and I don’t want to. I like it. Maybe because it’s the first time someone has taken control of me.
I’m coming for the third time with a loud cry as Rip rides me through the intense orgasm. He comes not long after, grunting as his warm load fills me up. Panting, he collapses against my chest.
We lay on the table, basking in the heat of the heater against our naked bodies. Eventually, he sits up, assessing me.
“You did so well,” he praises, wiping the cum between our chests. “You really can handle all of me.”
I don’t respond and settle for a weak nod. Rip wipes the stray tears from my cheeks, pouting as he does.
“Are you alright?” he asks, worry etched in his voice.
I nod again. Rip has gotten used to my few tears during sex. It wasn’t something that happened before him, and I thought he’d be weirded out by it, but if anything, he’s into it. It lets him know he did something right, but he always makes sure it’s tears of pleasure and not pain.
Rip’s blue eyes glisten in the light as they bore into mine. “Kingsley, listen. Whatever happens, whether it be good or bad, I need you to know something.”
My heart drops. “What?”
“Whatever this is… I don’t know what the hell we’re doing, but I know I don’t want to lose it. But shit happens, so when this goes wrong, I swear on my biological parents’ lives, you’re still mine.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “And you’re still mine.”
A sad smile, a stark contrast to his usual flirty demeanor, graces his lips. “I’d better be.”
Rip sits me up and pulls me into a tight embrace. I bury my head into his chest, his body shielding me from the mix of cool outside air and warm heater.
Rip and my differing personalities don’t make a perfect couple.
When we first met, Rip couldn’t stand me, and rightfully so.
I was his privileged boss who wouldn’t speak more than a sentence to him, and he was the short-tempered employee who hated my silence.
Whatever we’ve been doing, it should never have begun.
Yet it’s more than I ever thought I deserved after Sylvie. He is more than I could ever ask for. I’m his, and he’s mine.
But it feels like he’s saying goodbye.