‘Tis the season of Wicked Deeds (A Holiday romance Book 1)
‘Tis the season of Wicked Deeds: Chapter 23

WICKED DEEDS

1. Get risqué behavior in public.

2. I wanna be your slave.

“Will you come to my office after breakfast?” murmurs Kingston against my neck, placing teasing kisses while trapping me between him and the door.

After last night, we’ve become greedier for each other. The need to stay close is a living, breathing thing, overshadowing our desire to get each other out of our systems.

It explains why I’m standing at the door at six in the morning when I should be dead asleep after having an unforgettable and sleepless night. Yet, I couldn’t resist coming downstairs to kiss Kingston before he went to work.

“If you’re busy, I can go sightseeing alone.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Bossy,” I tease.

“You love it, Star.”

“Star?”

“I recall you hating the other nicknames I called you on our date,” he says mischievously. “So, I’m trying new ones.”

“Why star? I’m not a celebrity,” I scoff and immediately narrow my gaze. “Is it based on the nursery rhyme?”

A damning smirk curves his mouth. “Maybe.”

“Shouldn’t it be little star, then?”

His gaze unabashedly roams down the length of my body. My sweater isn’t very form-fitted, yet I feel his eyes searing my skin through the material. “The things I want to do to you and the naughty fantasies you desire are quite racy. Little doesn’t fit.”

I turn crimson, losing my bravado. On any other man, that line would sound sleazy.

But not on him.

The rules just don’t apply to this hunky beast.

I crane my neck when he advances, locking me in an intense stare. Cupping my chin between his thumb and forefinger, he tilts my face even more and bends closer. “Had you not run out of our date, we could’ve called our future kid little star.”

My jaw would’ve dropped to the floor if he wasn’t holding it in his grip. Instead, I stare wide-eyed and will my heart to slow down.

He didn’t just say that.

I have no comeback as his earlier mirth returns and he steps back. Winking once, he turns and walks down to the cobblestone path. When he’s almost at the end, I replace my voice and shout, “Kingston!”

He doesn’t stop.

I stomp after him without any regard that it’s freezing cold outside. “You can’t say things like that!”

He turns and shrugs, walking backward. “I just did, Star.”

“Tell me you’re kidding.”

“I don’t joke when it comes to you.”

“I only agreed to dating while we’re here, not a freaking marriage.” I swallow before grumbling, “And definitely no future kids.”

“You’re a fool if you think I’m not trying to make you mine completely. In every sense.”

“No one gets attached in a week.”

“Then we’ll be the first.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“See you later for our date, Star,” he says and turning, he disappears around the corner.

I stay rooted to the spot, wondering what the hell just happened. What he’s saying implies more than lust and a strangers-with-benefits situation. He’s demanding more. Then why am I not raging mad or cutting ties with him? Because I know it can’t happen.

It’s impossible to fall in love in a week, right?

Right?

Neither my mind nor my heart answer back.

***

“I’m distracting you,” I tease Kingston, who has his eyes glued to the computer screen while his hand is glued to my thigh.

He pauses his back-and-forth caresses to glance at me.

“You are, but don’t worry, I can multitask.” Staring at me with a mischievous yet filthy look, he teases back, “Which you already know I can do after last night… and this morning.”

Oh yes, how can I forget this morning?

I woke up to the most wonderful view and feeling ever. Kingston’s unholy mouth between my thighs, eyes closed as he ate my pussy languidly and deeply like it was his favorite breakfast in the world.

There was none of the urgency or overpowering need to rush.

Just passion and gentle strokes of his tongue.

The love bites and bruises on my flesh looked darker and striking in the bright morning light. Kingston was truly mirroring a wicked wolf by sneaking into my bed and ravaging me.

Once he realized I was awake, he flipped us over until I was straddling his face and whispered for me to ride his mouth. As I slowly did, awakening my senses to pulsing lust, I almost lost my rhythm when I glanced over my shoulder to catch him pumping his rigid cock. One hand fisted his length, while the other fondled his balls.

His strokes raced in tune to my thrusts.

I held off my own demanding orgasm just to edge him, loving how he groaned in frustration. The vibration only sent tremors to my breasts, hardening my nipples. His tongue lashed at my pussy, grazing my clit with his sharp teeth.

It sent me over the edge and for those long magnetic seconds, I forgot if I was suffocating him with my pussy. I just used him with wild abandon and ground on his stubbled mouth, which triggered his own orgasm.

He bit down on my thigh from how hard he came. Afterward, he made me clean his cum-slicked hands by licking and sucking them.

Followed by the most erotic kiss of my life.

It was only after a minute as I caught my breath that I realized just how sore I was. There wasn’t a part of my body that wasn’t aching and protesting. But, of course, it was a delicious type of pain. A reminder of just how out of this world last night was.

Then like a true and caring gentleman, he ran me a warm bath to treat my aching muscles. Yes, we christened the hot tub and it was exactly how I imagined it’d be.

Romantic and dreamy.

My back against Kingston’s hard chest, his gruff and sexy voice in my ear as we talked about every random thing we could think of. I would often get distracted by his roaming hands over the possessive marks he left, but I kept talking his ear off as he hung on to every word I said.

While I loved the animalistic sex and dark chemistry in the sheets between us, I found talking to him more intimate. It was so effortless, laughing with him. Sharing funny high school stories, like the lectures I would bunk with Tina, or how once we almost got suspended. He teased me saying I was a hellraiser just like him.

I learned he spent half of his childhood in Switzerland before his parents moved to New York when he was fourteen. That’s why I couldn’t pinpoint his accent, because it was a rich blend between both countries.

We’re both also an only child and shared the common yearning for a sibling.

I even told him about my parents before the divorce, about his nana’s advice. He was supportive and said I should get the weight off my heart.

Besides Tina, I’ve never gotten close to someone as fast and hard as I have with Kingston. I’m known as someone who has walls around her heart.

Kingston didn’t crush or tear them down because honestly, around him, they were never there to begin with.

It’s the most gut-wrenching truth.

Now, hours later, the same wolf is about to take me out on a date. We’re planning on riding the cable car to the top of the Matterhorn, which is a must-see spot while visiting Zermatt. Or anywhere in Switzerland, honestly.

“I have a couple of emails to send to the vendor and then we’ll leave,” informs Kingston, lifting my hand to press a kiss on the inside of my wrist.

I smile when I see him wearing the watch I gifted last night.

Of course, I’m wearing the necklace he gave me too.

On his desk, I see a bunch of framed photos of family and friends. Curious, I pick the third one, where he’s standing between two—as equally tall and fit as him—guys. Each different than the last.

One has dark hair and is posh-looking with a devious smirk. The second is dark blond holding an impassive look bordering on menacing and screams malevolence. Kingston’s expression falls somewhere between the two.

However, there’s no denying the trio is hot in their own right.

The different types of men that women fawn over in a single frame.

“Are they your best friends?” I ask Kingston.

He glances at the photo, a pinch forming between his brows before he smoothens it and replies with a lighthearted smile, “Yeah. That’s Josh with the smile, who I met in college. And the one glaring at the camera is Pierce. He’s my childhood friend.”

“Does he always glare?” I quirk. “Or did you do something to piss him off that day?”

He narrows his gaze in mock hurt. “What gave you that idea?”

“All the stories I heard about how you pranked your friends and caused chaos.”

A deep chuckle slips past his lips and he leans back in his chair, pulling me onto his lap. Sitting sideways, I place my elbow on his shoulder. “My pranking days are long behind me. As for Pierce, he’s quiet and grumpy. It was a miracle we got him to take a picture at all.”

“I thought you were grumpy too when we first met,” I confess, remembering the first time I saw him across the bustling restaurant six months ago. “Until you opened your mouth. Then I thought you were too cocky for your own good.”

As retaliation, he tickles my ribs and I squirm, trying to get away.

“Too cocky, huh?”

“Oh my God, stop,” I half laugh, half squeal. “You didn’t let me finish.”

“What?”

“That cocky men just happen to be my type.”

“Hmm.” He pauses the tickling and runs his tongue between his teeth. “I don’t think I like that answer.”

“Why? Shouldn’t you be happy?”

Lifting me by surprise, he settles my ass on his desk with his hands cupping the backs of my knees. “Because I don’t like the thought of you with any other men, let alone the mention of them on your lips. Your type is only one man and he has a name. Kingston. That’s the only acceptable answer from now on. Understood, little vixen?”

My heart races while a pulse ticks in my pussy, ignited by his demand. “Possessive much? I’m only yours for a week, King.”

“That’s what you think.”

“That’s what we agreed.”

Leaning into my face, he whispers right against my trembling lips, “I didn’t.”

Before I can retort, he makes quick work of turning and bending me over his desk with my feet on the ground. I gasp when he tears down my leggings with a single-minded intention. “King!”

“I think you need a reminder that games or not, I own you.”

I stare at the unlocked door to his office, fully aware his staff is back to work today. As Kingston’s calloused fingers slide my panties aside, I can hear the footsteps and chatter outside.

A metallic taste explodes on my tongue when I bite down on my lip in reaction to his swollen cock piercing my pussy in one wicked thrust.

No warning.

No adjusting.

No mercy.

He kicks my feet apart, nails leaving imprints around my hips as he grunts while making me see stars. My hungry pussy spasms and opens every time he bottoms out. His piercings glide and rub against my walls, hitting my G-spot when he angles his cock just right.

There’s madness and possession in his fierce thrusts.

The power screaming I’m his.

His to own.

His to corrupt.

His to fuck whenever he desires.

I throw my head back in ecstasy when his finger flicks my clit just the way I love with the right pressure and finesse. My hands seek purchase, but replace none. Still, I meet his thrusts with my ass. As I do, my hard nipples scrape against the hard desk, sending electric shivers down my spine.

“Kingston?” Hilda’s soft voice comes through the door.

I panic when it penetrates the fog of lust, eyes widening in horror as I wait for the knob to turn.

For Kingston to stop.

Neither happens.

“Not now,” he replies harshly, voice impossibly deep. His vicious thrusts don’t slow down and he silences my moaning sounds with his palm.

When her footsteps recede, I sigh in relief and relax.

The damage is done, though. There was no quieting the squeaking of the desk.

Kingston’s hand slides down to my throat, circling authoritatively. My oxygen is his to control. Strumming the pad of his thumb on my clit, he pulls out to the tip and thrusts hard and slow.

“Ahh…”

Another teasing rub on the nub, followed by a slow and deep plunge.

He does it twice more until I’m balling my hand in frustration.

“Still think you’re mine just for the week?” he taunts, pinching the sensitive flesh. “That another cock can make you weak in the knees? Satisfy your filthy desires?”

“No, only you,” I whimper, clarity hitting me square in the chest.

When he yanks me up by my ponytail, my breasts shake and thrust out vulnerably. I hang onto the edge of the desk as he gives three rapid thrusts, drilling my pussy hard and fast. Twisting my nipples punishingly, he slaps them before squeezing so hard they turn blue. The roughness is so good, my juices leak down my thighs.

“Say sorry.”

I whisper, “I’m sorry.”

“No. Say I’m sorry, Daddy.”

I clench around his cock, turning scarlet from head to toe. Suddenly, I’m at a loss for words and fighting the urge to look away. But he has me locked and cornered. His shaft throbbing inside my pussy.

“I said.” Thrust. “Apologize.” Spank. “To Daddy.” Thrust.

“I’m-m sorry, Daddy.”

Oh Christ! Calling him this forbidden title should be so wrong… yet it feels so right. We’re blasting past the line of filthy games and straight into the deep end of taboo and immoral.

The stern glint in his pupils, darkened with a domineering edge, has me succumbing to another one of my shameful desires.

“Do you think you can take Daddy’s pussy away from him?” he scolds, spanking my clit hard. “I claimed it as mine.” Another slap. “You take it from me, I’ll chase you and fuck it right there for everyone to see who owns it.”

“I know you will,” I rasp, meeting his thrusts.

Our skin slaps in a wet noise as he admonishes, “Address me properly. Who am I?”

“Daddy.”

His eyes flare every time I call him that. He’s as into it as I am, making the taboo need even more sinful. Holding me by the throat, he pushes my hand over my pussy. “Show me your clit.”

I spread the hood so the little nub is displayed vulnerably.

He takes every advantage, making me moan.

Smack.

Smack.

Smack.

As I fall over the cliff of roaring pleasure, his gaze never wavers as I spasm and grind on his dick. He gently plays with my slit, sinking his shaft into me again and again, prolonging my orgasm.

The moment I go lax in his embrace, he bends my body and crushes my breasts to the cold surface of his desk. I feel him grip the back of my neck, pinning me down. My wrists twisted and captured in the middle of my back, he fills me to the hilt again and again.

Each drive brutal.

Demanding.

Breaking my pussy like it’s a toy.

“Such a good little baby girl for Daddy,” he coos in a husky tone. “Want Daddy to come deep inside you?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Take it.” A low grunt before he stills against my ass. His cock hurts my sore pussy as he thickens a second before shooting his release inside my walls. “Take all my cum, Daddy’s little cumslut.”

His weight falls on my back as he peppers kisses along my collarbone. His scruff, eliciting aftershocks. Just before he pulls out, I hear him whisper, “I could get used to being your daddy, Twinkle.”

Fuck.

So could I.