King of Greed (Kings of Sin #3) by Ana Huang

Alessandra shook her head. “How could I forget? You almost got arrested.”

We hadn’t lasted more than five minutes inside before some drunken asshole hit on her. He’d refused to leave us alone, and his advances had grown increasingly aggressive until I punched him, he punched me back, and the altercation escalated into a brawl that brought the cops onto the scene.

“It would’ve been worth it,” I said. “I hope his nose was never the same.”

Her reluctant laugh sent tendrils of warmth spiraling through my chest. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed the sound. Even before she left, she hadn’t laughed much. Not in the way she used to.

Alessandra gradually relaxed as I drew more memories into the present—our first date, our graduation, our first trip together to New York. Our future was uncertain, but once upon a time, we’d been good together. We could get back to that place. We just needed time.

The song ended, and she moved to pull away before my arm tightened around her.

“Not yet,” I said, the words ragged. I wasn’t ready to let her go, but I didn’t know how to make her stay.

Alessandra’s mouth trembled, then firmed. “One dance. Remember?”

“Yes.” I dipped my head, wishing I had the power to turn back time. “But I have a final request. A kiss. Just one.”

She closed her eyes. “Dom…”

“For old time’s sake,” I repeated, the words mere tatters in the tiny space between us.

The uneven rhythm of her breaths matched mine. She didn’t respond, but she also didn’t leave, which I interpreted as tacit agreement.

My mouth hovered over hers, giving her one last chance to pull away. When she didn’t, I closed the remaining distance and brushed her lips with the lightest of kisses. It was so soft, it counted more as a graze than a kiss, but it detonated every emotion I’d tried so hard to bury. Pain, longing, regret, love. No one could make me feel as much or as deeply as Alessandra did, and any control I might’ve had left snapped at her nearly inaudible sigh of pleasure.

I deepened the kiss, my mouth molding to hers with an ease that came from years of practice. My hand slid in her hair; hers gripped my shoulders. I explored her mouth with deep, sweeping strokes, drunk off the taste of apples and gin and her. After two weeks apart, kissing her felt like coming home.

Desire ramped up with every passing second. It curled around us in thick ribbons, drawing my skin taut and serrating her breaths, but I had enough presence of mind left to remember we were in public.

Somehow, I maneuvered us into a nearby hall where the staff restroom was surprisingly unlocked. It was nice as far as restrooms went, but I barely noticed the gold detailing or the marble floors. I was too focused on Alessandra—her flushed cheeks, her parted lips, the way she shivered when I set her on the counter and rucked her skirt up around her waist.

Neither of us spoke lest we shatter the delicate spell keeping our problems at bay.

Our problems would still be there tomorrow, but tonight? Tonight was for us.

I kissed her again. Harder this time, desperate to drink in as much of her as possible. No matter how long we’d been together, or how bad I’d been at expressing myself in recent years, I couldn’t get enough of her. I never would.

I curled one hand around the back of her neck while the other traced the lacy edge of her underwear. Her stiffness from earlier in the night had melted away, and when I stopped at the sensitive juncture between her thigh and heat, she let out a noise of protest.

“Shh.” I kissed my way down her neck, stopping at the places that drove her wild. The spot behind her ear, the hollow of her throat, the curve of her neck and shoulder. “Patience.”

I knew Alessandra’s body like I knew the back of my hand, and every deliberate detour elicited moans that escalated into a full-blown cry when I finally slid her underwear aside and rubbed my thumb over her clit.

I bit back a groan. She was already so damn wet for me.

Heat raced down my spine as I worked her with leisurely strokes, circling and teasing until she was dripping all over my hand. She bucked against me, her face etched with frustration and lust.

“Dom.” A breathless plea fell from her lips. “Please.”

I hardened to the point of pain. God, nothing in the world ever sounded as sweet as the sound of my name on her lips.

Another cry tore from her throat when I finally thrust two fingers inside her. She was so wet, she took them easily, and her hips jerked again when I buried them to the knuckles.

“Oh God.” Her nails dug painful grooves in my shoulders. “I can’t…that’s…fuck…”

Her words splintered as I finger fucked her into a sobbing, incoherent mess. Her moans and the slick sounds of my fingers pumping in and out of her filled the bathroom, drowning out my harsh breaths.

I almost lost it at the sight of her stretched so beautifully around me, but I forced myself under control. I’d focused on myself for too long. This was about her, and I wanted to enjoy every second, even if it was at my own expense.

I kept my eyes on Alessandra as I slammed my fingers back in and curled them so they hit her most sensitive spot.

She fell apart instantly. Head back, skin flushed, cries hoarse as she spasmed around my fingers. I kept the heel of my hand pressed against her clit while she rode out the waves of her orgasm, and I didn’t withdraw until the last of her shudders subsided.