Touch Me Not Mr·kingsley Novels & Stories

MAYA If anyone would tell me that the CEO of Grey Textile and Clothing would ask me to be his model, I would call the person a big liar. But surprisingly he asked me to be his model. He even told me to drop the formalities and call him by his first name, Silver. It was like I was dreaming. But what bothered me was that Liam didn’t look too happy about the whole thing. It made me feel bad because if not for Liam, I wouldn't have met Silver and indulged in conversations with him enough for me to be his model.

He seemed to enjoy watching. “Fuck,” Kingsley said. His hand came up and cupped my breast, thumb dragging over the nipple, and the roughness of his palm made me arch into his touch. “Look at these tits. Stand up,” he said. I stood. My legs were shaking. The train swayed, and I grabbed the overhead rail to steady myself, and the movement made my breasts swing. “Take your jeans off.” I fumbled with the button. My fingers were clumsy, and useless, and Kingsley made a low sound of amusement and batted my hands away. His thick fingers worked the button, popped it open, and dragged the zip down.

“I’m Chelsea. I’m Mr. Kingsley’s secretary. He mentioned you’d be arriving this morning.” I blinked. “He did?” “Oh, yes. And, um… just a quick tip?” She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “Don’t touch anything on his desk.” I raised an eyebrow, caught off guard. “It’s… not a rule, per se,” she added, trying to soften the advice. “But, uh, he’s particular about it. Anyway, let me know if you need anything else!” I nodded slowly, a bit confused but deciding to let it go.

I worked slowly, carefully, forcing my hands to stay steady even as my pulse thundered. To reach the far side of the bandage, I had to step closer, between his knees. The realization came too late to retreat. His legs bracketed me easily, not trapping but close enough that every inch of space between us became deliberate. My fingers brushed his skin again, and the contact felt electric, a small, treacherous current that climbed my arm and settled somewhere under my ribs. “Your ex-husband,” Kingsley said suddenly, voice low and conversational, “had terrible taste in jewelry.”

Damon grabs his keys, and his hand brushes mine as we head toward the door together. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to. We step out into the hallway, and there is Kingsley, slouched on the couch like the building owner that he is. Coffee in one hand, sunglasses pushed into his wild curls. “My favourite people in the whole world,” he announces with a grin. “Good morning, Kingsley,” I say, smiling. “Good morning, beautiful,” he says, with that same unbothered charm that probably gets him into more trouble than it gets him out of.

she said softly. “What do you need?” The pastor asked feeling the warmth spreading throughout his body. “I am looking for a man.” “Who might he be?” “Thomas Roman,” she said smiling. “I found his name.” The Pastor said thoughtful. “Where?” “He builds Doom.” “Are you sure?” “I am.” “Will you show you the proof.” The Pastor turned and start to walk towards the cottage. He stops looking at the red-hair woman. “There was a time I could enter there. I can no longer.”

I swallow a sob, but can’t hold back the tear from falling down my cheek. He steps closer, grabbing the skirt of my dress. “Solution… Don’t make me laugh. I’m a monster and you deserve better than this. Kai is perfect for you. See, I would like nothing more than to dry your tears but I can’t even catch them with my thumb without sending you to the hospital.” Reaching out, I lay my hands on his chest gently, feeling his breath hitching. “Baby steps. But we will get there.” He stares down at me wide-eyed as he must be enjoying my touch through his t-shirt. “Em-”

here, Ashly gestured to Samanatha and Alexander who both had wide eyes, “but this is Ken, another one of my babies.” The silence and their baffled expressions were amusing. Mike extended an elegant hand to Ken while offering a dazzling, gummy smile to them all. “I hear a lot about you, you’re the famous photographer. Pleased to finally meet you, Ken. And Ms. and Mr. Alexander, it’s good to see you both doing well.” Ken was the first to recover by that, putting two and two together, cocoa butter eyes gleaming. “Wait, wait. Wait. Wasn’t you- you don’t happen to be the therapist Mile, do you?”

His touch sends an electric wave that makes me shiver. "Because I don't like seeing what's mine standing among trash like your ex," his voice is low and husky, vibrating right down to my ribs. "I am not yours," I protest weakly, even as my hand unconsciously grips his black shirt, pulling him closer because I can't bear the distance between us. "Is that so?" Xavier lets out a soft chuckle, an intoxicatingly masculine sound. "Then why is your heart pounding like this when I touch you, Rose?"

He heard some shuffle on the other side before the door slowly opened. "Georgia, did you forget some-" Kelsey was stopped midway when she realized that it wasn't Georgia knocking on her door, but the one and only devil she had been trying to avoid the entire day. "Mr. King." She said formally. "Do you need something, sir?" She asked politely. Mason hated the way she called him Mr. King or Sir. He didn't like it one bit. "Don't call me that." He shook his head trying to hold in his desire to grab her and get a taste of those strawberry-like lips again.