Mr. King [Book 1]

Nineteen

Mr. King disappeared in his closet for a few moments before returning to the bedroom with a white t-shirt in his hand.

"Here," he told her, holding it out for her

"What?" Katherine questioned, looking at him in confusion, grabbing the shirt from him.

"Because I ruined yours," he said in a no-nonsense sort of way.

"Mm. Thank you," she said quietly, letting a small smile turn up her lips.

Mr. King nodded, but still stood there watching her, as if he wasn't quite finished with her yet. She didn't want him to be.

There were so many things she wanted to ask him in that moment. So many things that she knew he'd never answer, and it frustrated her.

But the one thing she really wanted to ask him is if he ever stayed in bed after he fucked, if he ever cuddled or bantered with someone in the glow of post-coitus. It wasn't something she expected of him by any means, but she found herself missing that part of sex – the aftermath, the aftercare.

She appreciated his kindness when he drew her a bath after they had sex during the whole spanking punishment, and she appreciated his thoughtfulness for getting her a shirt after ruining hers. But there were certainly other things she craved.

"What?" He asked as he watched her.

"Hmm?" She hummed, looking up at him as he stood at the end of the bed in only his boxer briefs.

"You were lost in your head for a moment. What were you thinking about?" He asked, his eyebrows knit together in question.

"Um... nothing..." She said, feeling embarrassment flood her.

"Katherine..."

"I don't have to tell you every little thought I have," she snapped back defensively, watching the annoyance form on his face.

"I mean..." She tried to back-track as his eyes stared fiercely into hers.

"You don't tell me anything you're thinking," she countered, trying to get him to lighten up and see things from her perspective.

The last time he made her tell him something, she revealed her father physically abused her in her childhood, and it caused him to retreat from her. It didn't bode well for her opening up to him in the future.

"Do you want to know what I'm thinking, Miss Mason?" He asked through gritted teeth.

"Yes," she squeaked, cowering a bit.

"I'm thinking I'd love to punish you for speaking to me that way," he told her, causing a salient bolt of pleasure to shoot through her body, right down to her core, which made her shudder out a weighty breath.

"Mm. You like that idea," he ascertained as his hardened expression dissipated and a devilish smirk tugged up his lips.

"What?" She gaped, her breathing heightening as she looked wide-eyed back at him.

"The moment I said it, your cheeks flushed and your nipples hardened," he pointed out astutely.

Jesus Christ. How intently was he watching her?

"I—"

How did he do this to her? How did he turn her into a blithering idiot in seconds?

"It's okay, Katherine. You don't have to deny it," he challenged, the devilish smirk only growing with every second she fumbled over her response.

"I'm— I just..." She stammered as she stumbled to her knees, feeling like she needed to gain some sort of leverage in the conversation, even if it was just to look him directly in the eyes at the same level.