Celebrations lasted for a long, long time. There were pictures and awards, individual congratulations for team members who helped King win, and lots of champagne. Jess helped me capture as much as possible for both live social media and for posts over the coming weeks. The team would be heading into the summer break after the next race and we’d need material to keep fans interested in the month off.

By the time all was said and done I was exhausted and excited, but not nearly as much as King. We couldn’t seem to say goodbye so instead of dropping him off at his hotel as planned, I brought him home.

He touched me and all I could think was finally. His hand should always be on my skin. It was made to connect with me and no one else—I was sure of it. His fingers tangled in my hair, tilting my head up. And then . . . oh and then it happened. His lips on mine, hard and unrelenting, like he was as starved for this kiss as I was. It was painful and beautiful and so overwhelming I forgot how to breathe.

Air was inconsequential now. All that mattered was taking the kiss deeper, finding more skin to touch, memorizing the sound of his groans.

“Jesus, Isabel,” he said as I ripped off his shirt and molded my hands to his sculpted muscles. I wanted to memorize the rise and fall of each one. Even though he was hard to the touch his skin was soft and warm, it jumped and responded as my hands roamed. What they were searching for I didn’t know. I also didn’t care. All I knew was that I needed this.

His fingers dug into my skin, pulling my center against his and creating the most magnificent sensation. I wanted more of it so I rubbed against him.

He groaned, dropping his forehead to mine. “God, yes.” Then he reached for my pants. “Please say yes.”

“Yes.” I had no idea what the consequences of today would be but I knew what I wanted right now. I wanted it more than anything I’d ever wanted ever.

My panties disappeared too and then I was on the counter and King’s fingers were dancing along my center. His warm, rough, powerful fingers. He caressed, circled, stroked. “Say you want me.”

“I want you.” It didn’t matter what he asked. The answer was yes. Yes, yes, yes! I’d never been touched quite like this but I knew in the depth of my soul that this was right. My hips rocked instinctively and the result blew my mind when his fingers entered me. “Oh!” I arched back. “Oh, yes!”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Isabel. I can’t—I want—I have to . . . ” He took his fingers away. It was the worst feeling in the world. One moment I was high as a kite, warm and flying. Mindless and wild. Now I was cold and empty. It hurt. Physically hurt. Like whiplash.

“Hold on,” he growled.

In the far off distance I heard sounds but I didn’t make sense of them. I didn’t have a chance. One minute I was nearly in tears and the next his hands were on my hips, gripping painfully as he pulled me to the edge, and then everything—everything—changed.

I wasn’t empty anymore. King moved away and toward me again. The sensation of being filled and stretched became overwhelming and I gasped. Pleasure exploded inside me.

“God, I love the sounds you make,” he said as he sucked the skin along my neck. “They’re everything. You’re everything. This has to go.” He ripped my shirt off, tossed away my bra, plunged deeper inside me.

I couldn’t move because I was so trapped by my pleasure. My mind was blank. My body completely alive and humming. I knew what was happening. I was familiar with the tremors and the muscle contractions. I’d had orgasms. Many, many, many orgasms, but not one like this.

He cupped my breasts and pushed them together. He feasted and thrust in a wild and unpredictable pattern that had me holding on for dear life. This was a ride and I was merely the passenger as he stretched me for the first time.

I was having sex with King.

And the momentousness didn’t matter. I was in his arms as he moved inside me, and dear God did it feel amazing. Like fireworks and ecstasy were exploding and soothing me simultaneously.

He shuddered and stilled. “Jesus. You . . . this is . . . wow.” He pushed a little harder and I felt another explosion deep inside.

I nodded because I couldn’t form words.

King didn’t seem to like that because he adjusted until we were nose to nose, his eyes locked and intense on mine. He watched as he moved inside me. Slow, intentional thrusts that took my breath away. All I could do was gasp for air.

His gaze grew hooded, his pupils dilating into dark pools, drinking in the sight of my reactions. “Say it again. Say you want me.”

He was so demanding and vocal . . . and I liked it. More than I ever thought I would. “I want—” He slid slowly, oh so slowly, inside me that I couldn’t finish my sentence. How could I when my entire body zinged and shuddered. I shook uncontrollably.

“Shhh . . . I’ve got you,” he whispered, then ran his hands over my skin, soothing them away. “I’ve got you.”

Should I tell him why I was so shaken? Probably. Would I? No. I didn’t want anything about this experience to change. I wanted him just like this. Raw and impulsive. I felt like he was my secret. He opened himself up to me and in our most vulnerable moment he opened even more.

“Say you want me,” I whispered. My voice shook. Hell, it was barely audible. I realized with complete clarity why King kept demanding to hear these words. I needed to hear him say it out loud. It was the only thing that would keep me from falling apart.

It was slowest most intense moment of my life as his chin lifted, his eyes boring deeply into mine. His hands caressed the curve of my hips, the dip of my waist, skimmed the sides of my breasts, and then finally cupped my face. He didn’t look away. Not once. “I want you, Isabel.” And then, like it took something from him, he whispered, “More than I’ve ever wanted anything else.”

“King.” I was naked. He was naked and inside me. I clutched, reached, fumbled until I latched onto his shoulders. I used the leverage to move and explore for myself. When I rolled my hips heat built up inside me. I found I wanted to pull him closer. I needed more of his skin on my skin. “I want you.”

“How do you want me?” His shoulders straightened and he seemed to grow taller somehow as he looked down at me.

I didn’t know how to tell him what I wanted because I didn’t technically know myself. So I did what I did when I was alone. I closed my eyes and let my instincts drive me. I hooked one hand around his neck as my head fell back. “I want your mouth on me.”

“Yes,” he groaned, dipping down to suck a kiss onto my neck. He moved down, placing two, three, four more intense kisses before he reached the swell of my breast and placed one more kiss right over my nipple.

The sensation was so sharp, so incredible, I cried out and bucked against him, which also felt very, very good. His hand gripped my thigh, his thumb massaging along the muscle until he reached my clitoris. Just the faint graze of his wide warm thumb was too much. Every muscle in my core clenched tight around his shaft and that . . . was another mind-blowing chain of muscular events I had no control over.

“Oh yes. Watching you move is so fucking hot.” He devoured my nipple all over again. Swirling and sucking. Sucking and swirling. Until I forgot that his thumb was pressing against the bundle of nerves between my legs. He pulled back to watch as he circled my clit. It must have been quite the show because his eyes grew round and his jaw jutted forward as his gaze roamed between his thumb and my eyes.

He wasn’t even moving. His cock was seated deep inside me but it was his fingers that were causing all of these incredible reactions, coaxing me closer and closer to an orgasm that I was almost afraid to reach. I didn’t want this to end and I was almost positive it would be more than I could handle.

“I want to feel you come around me, Isabel.”

I whimpered because his voice and commands did things to me. Dark, wonderful, sexy things I barely understood. It made my hips roll, my nipples tingle, my inner muscles to contract. How could words do that?

But they did. Every time he spoke my body responded. Every time he moved, I responded to that as well.

Take now for instance. His eyes devoured my breast as he brought down his thumb to circle it. Wide circles that caused the tingling to erupt into pinpricks of fire. Closer and closer he circled until I was positive I’d lose my mind. Then he ran the pad of his thumb over the tip. Just once.

I gasped.

He withdrew and thrust deep.

I cried out loudly. “Yes!” Was that sound me? Was I the one screaming and begging for more?

Yes. I was. And I was really quite proud of myself, something I could analyze later because right now all I had time or energy for was the sensation of King’s thick cock stretching me wide.

“You liked that, love?”

“God yes. Never . . . felt . . . like it.” I was speaking in nonsense now. Complete blissed out nonsense.

He thrust again. Hard. Deep. And with a feral growl of pleasure that I found incredibly satisfying. “Say that again.”

I shuddered. I was coiled so tight. Everything was bright white lights and electric zings. I wanted and needed. “I’ve never felt anything like this,” I whispered, panting and trying very hard to keep my eyes from rolling back in my head because I didn’t want to lose this connection.

He stroked my clit, massaged my breast, it was like a petting—a soothing reward that turned into a glorious repeat of circling, circling, circling . . . the tingling only ending when his thumbs grazed my nipple and clit at once, then twice, and once more before he thrust ever so slowly inside.

We groaned together. For the first time in several minutes I was able to see and hear something outside of myself. Like the fact that King was slick with sweat or that his shoulders spasmed. His movements were jerky and inelegant.

He was every bit as overwhelmed as I was.

And that was quite possibly the sexiest thing of all.

“Let me feel you. Let me watch you, Isabel. I want it.” It was a series of demands but there was a desperate edge to his tone.

“Yes,” was all I could manage.

He rewarded me again. Circling, circling, circling. “So soft. So fucking beautiful. I going to come so deep inside you.”

His thumbs ignited fire and a thousand tremors that shot from the point of contact right to my center. As he thrust hard. I was strung tight. Every muscle tense and waiting for release. For the rush of relief.

But it didn’t come. Instead he kept teasing me higher and higher until I didn’t think I could go any further.

“I can’t,” he gasped. “I’m sorry. I can’t.” He lost complete control. He pinched my nipples hard. Both of them between his thumb and forefinger, as he pounded into me. The sudden relentless friction ripped through me, combined with the raw lust in his eyes, sending me right over the edge into oblivion.

“Come for me, Isabel. Please, God. Come for me. Yes. Oh, fuck yes.” He buried his cock deep in me, pulling my body tight against his. He pumped in quick, short strokes as I rode out the tremors of my own orgasm.

And then finally . . . finally . . . the most incredible peace as my entire body went limp. He scooped me up, breathing hard, shuddering breaths, before he tucked me into bed. I discovered some of those sounds I’d heard earlier were a condom. King discarded it and crawled into bed beside me, arranging me until he had me completely wrapped up.

“Rest, Isabel.” He kissed my neck two more times and then, as if a switch were flipped, he was asleep.