King's Treasure (Oil Kings Book 3) by Marie Johnston (spanish books to read txt) 📕

I set her on the bed and she untangled her legs. She bit her plump lower lip as her gaze traveled over me. I was usually dressed casually, to the point of looking aimless, but she’d seen through me. Instead of the loser with no job my dad saw, Savvy saw me as a photographer. She was more excited about my career than anyone in my family.

I took my wallet out, pulled out a condom and set it on the bed. Her gaze followed my every move. We’d have the I’m-clean-are-you-clean-what-about-birth-control talk soon, but tonight was about us exploring and learning each other and I didn’t want to delay. From the way she wiggled her ass, she agreed.

Next, I unbuttoned my shirt. She moved to do the same with her cream blouse.

“No.”

My low command made her stop, uncertainty flickering in her eyes.

“I want to unwrap you myself.”

She rolled up to her knees, putting her at the edge of the bed. “I want to do the same with you.” She stroked her hands over my shoulders, then worked one button at a time. By the time she reached the last one, my dick was throbbing so bad that I was afraid the act of unzipping my pants would make me come.

She pushed the garment off my shoulders and down my arms. The shirt fluttered to the floor. Her lips parted. “Oh my.”

I kept in shape, doing manual labor in exchange for food and lodging on my travels. But growing up hauling hay bales, riding horses, and working cattle hadn’t hurt either.

She spread her hands over my chest, her nails scraping over the chest hair I’d never thought twice about until now. It was enough to cover my pecs with a trail disappearing below my waistband. Was she used to manicured men? I’d never taken a razor to anywhere on my body other than my face, and sometimes even that didn’t get a shave for months.

“You’re so . . . manly,” she breathed, like I was some rare specimen she’d thought was a myth. She poked my biceps. “Those are real muscles.”

“As opposed to . . .”

A laugh erupted, but it choked off as she brushed her hands down to my waistband. “Manufactured. Manscaped.”

When she fumbled with the button and zipper, I groaned. The touch of innocence in the move was erotic. I didn’t care if she’d done this a couple hundred times or once, I was enough to make her stumble. “You’re killing me, woman.”

Her gaze jerked up. “I feel like I should be insulted when you refer to me as ‘woman,’ but it’s sexy as hell.”

I cupped her cheek. “Because you are. I’ll say woman a thousand times if it makes you feel good.”

Her eyes were luminous in the transient light. She didn’t look at what she was doing, but she lowered my zipper and pushed my pants down, my boxer briefs with them. My dick bounced free. That got her attention.

“Oh. That’s . . . that’s big.”

“Thanks.”

She didn’t even know how well I could use it. I might be a failure at a lot, but pleasing a woman had never been on the list.

“You must hear that all the time.” Her question wasn’t sarcastic. Real curiosity laced her voice. She wanted to know how experienced I was. I’d been sexually active since I was sixteen and Jenna Baker had let me trade her virginity for my own in the back forty after homecoming. I’d had dry spells and I’d had periods where I was with someone new every weekend. If Savvy asked for details, I wouldn’t be able to tell her much. Size didn’t matter. Frequency didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was how it was between my wife and me.

So all I said was, “I only care about you saying it.” That was the truth.

A sultry smile curved her lips and she wrapped her hand around my erection. My moan couldn’t be helped. She was the perfect mix of firm and unsure.

She pumped once, twice, her expression full of desire and curiosity, but I couldn’t wait. I lifted her top off and she had to release me so I could get it off. Pale blue lace cupped creamy, full breasts. I thumbed the dusky pink nipples poking through and a shiver wracked her body. Somehow, I got her bra unhooked without fumbling. I watched her as I worked her jeans open, waiting for any sign of hesitation. We’d met hours ago, but this was no one-night stand.

I pushed all of the material down her hips as far as they’d go with the way she kneeled on the bed. Unlike me, she was neatly trimmed but I wouldn’t care if she didn’t do a damn thing or waxed herself bare. She was beautiful. I palmed her, her slickness coating my fingers.

“Xander,” she breathed.

My resistance was shot. I wanted to see every part of her, but I needed to feel her now. I needed to be buried inside her.

Claiming her mouth, I wrapped one arm around her and used my other hand to pleasure her, to get her ready for me. I slid a finger through her soaked seam, then reversed the move until I hit her clit. Her whole body jerked in my arms and she let out a ragged moan, as if only my touch could get her off.

I circled her nub until she undulated against my hand, urging me to go faster and harder. I inserted a finger, using my thumb on her clit. When her walls clenched around my finger and she arched, I released her mouth to watch her climax spill over her. She dropped her head back, her mouth open, moaning my name. My real name spilling out of those pretty lips was the best start to this marriage.

I removed my hand and instantly missed her heat. I laid her back and finished removing her pants. Multitasking, I stepped out of my shoes and kicked out of my pants as I tore open the condom and