King of Me (The King Trilogy #3)(58)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

“I think I like punishing you.” He pushed his h*ps forward sharply to apply exquisite pressure on all the right spots. I orgasmed instantaneously, gripping fistfuls of sheets.

He watched with pleasure as he repeated the movement and made me come again.

How he did it, I didn’t know. But I didn’t care. The man could practically make me come for him on command. Okay, yes, his sensual mouth or huge penis is normally involved, but there was that time with his hand when he—

“Silence, woman,” King barked and thrust again. “Or I will not make you come again.”

Oh, yeah. And then there was that. I’d made King put back his mark. I’d told him that whatever pain he had, I wasn’t going to let him live it alone. I was his, and he was mine. Anyway, he was back to listening in. Not always a good thing when he was working…down there.

I snapped my mouth shut. “Silencing. Not another peep.”

He smiled with that sensual, wicked grin and lowered his hot mouth to mine, pumping and licking with a leisurely pace.

I felt the tension coil deep within once again and then…Heaven.

Sensing the contractions, King pushed the tip of his hard shaft forward and stoked the flames, making the experience a seemingly never-ending, mind-blowing event. As usual.

The moment my inner walls clenched around him, he began to pump fiercely—one, two, three thrusts—and came hard deep inside me. He released a throaty groan and collapsed.

“Careful,” I said, “don’t smoosh my stomach.”

He chuckled and rolled to my side. “You are far too paranoid.”

I rubbed my tummy and grinned. “Well, he is a miracle.” And I knew that King would make sure there’d be a ring waiting for him, too, when the time was right.

“That he is.” King kissed my bulging stomach and then reached for the phone next to the bed.

He paused for a moment, waiting for the galley staff to answer. “Hello, Paolo,” King said in the deep, velvety voice that made my toes curl. Pause. “Yes, Mrs. Minos and I are fine, thank you.”

Oh, yes. I forgot to mention that. His last name, as it turned out, was Minos. (Mee-nus.) As in King Minos. Homer would later embellish on local folklore and turn my King into a fictional character—a god—who also sparked the legend of the Minotaur. Yes, I found excessive amounts of humor in that he would most be remembered for working for Zeus, but it was weighed down by the historical references tied to Draco, the Lawgiver. Both were extreme fictionalizations of the real man, but I guessed it couldn’t be helped. After all, King was larger than life.

“Yes,” he said to Paolo, “it is a beautiful day, indeed. Could you ask Ypirétria to leave a bottle of sparkling water outside the door for my wife and some champagne for me?” Pause. “Thank you, Paolo. We’ll be down shortly for our excursion.”

One might wonder why King had insisted on bringing Ypirétria—a seventy-year-old Greek woman who’d served in his house since the age of eighteen. That too was a pleasant surprise. After my trip to ancient Athens, when I’d been taken as a slave, King kept his word and sent his men to give money to those freed slaves. With nowhere to go, many followed his men home and insisted on staying. King said they worked harder and were more loyal than any “help” he’d ever had. From that day forward, he began paying all of his people. “It made good business sense,” he said. But I think a part of him did it because it felt good. Anyway, Ypirétria, as it turned out, earned about one hundred grand a year, plus benefits. She’d paid for college for her six children, and now that they were all grown, she’d decided to stay with King. She liked “the adventure and danger,” she’d told me, compliments of Hagne’s spit tat that ironically translated every language. Yes, I decided to keep the damned thing. It was a handy little piece of magic and reminded me of my time in Minoa, something I never wanted to forget.

I looked at my king and grinned. “You ordered champagne. You haven’t had that in a while.”

“Well, I used to drink it just to piss him off, but I find myself missing the taste.”

I laughed. “You’re telling me that all of those bottles you had were there to torment evil King?” That was what I called him now.

He shrugged those bronzed wide shoulders taut with muscle. “Yes. He didn’t much like it. Seemed like a better choice versus whipping him back.”

I tilted my head and stared at this beautiful man, understanding another tiny piece of the puzzle. Evil King had tried to beat the goodness out of him. How insanely righteous that the good King tried to fight back with champagne.

“Drink all the champagne you want. After our son is born, I’ll drink a glass with you, too. But no cigars, they smell disgusting.”

His blue eyes glimmered with joy. “I love you, Mia.”

I cupped his cheek. “I love you, too.” More than anything you could possibly imagine.

“More than anything?” he asked and placed his warm hand on my belly.

“Okay. You’re tied.”

He laughed. “Well then, are you ready?”

“For what?” I hoped he meant more sex.

“To go diving.” He sounded like a little boy eager to find a hidden treasure.

“I can’t go deep, but yeah. Sure. What are we diving for?”

“It is the Incan Chalice of Life,” he replied.

“Uh-uh. No. You promised your ‘relic hunting’ days were over.”

“But this object is for us. Something we need.”

“And why would we need that?”

King was quiet for a moment. “It has the ability to bring a person back to life. Specifically, those who have unfinished business and are tormented souls that remain in limbo.”

“But you’re alive alrea…” My voice trailed off. You mean…for Justin, don’t you?

King nodded. “Mack and I had been searching for the chalice for a very long time—as a backup, of course. And as luck would have it, I received an email last week, containing the location of the Spanish vessel rumored to have been carrying it.”

“Mack sent you an email?”

King nodded.

“What did it say?”

He scratched his chin. “It simply said, ‘Tell Mia thank you.’”

Wow. I could only assume he’d meant “thank you” for saving his brother. He now meant to give me back mine. There were no possible words to describe how grateful I felt.