Touch Me Not Mr·kingsley Novels & Stories

"Did you recently move to town? Or you're just passing by?" "Well actually, I moved in late last night. Fairly new. You know Elm Street?" he asked, tilting his head to the side and squinting his eyes at Kya who stripped her apron off in one smooth move, revealing her tits which were visible through the slit on her shirt. Mr. Hampton's eyes lingers there a little too long. The sinking feeling in my chest intensifies. "Elm Street?" I said, breaking the intense eye-fuckery they had going on. "I stay there."

Keisha confessed earnestly, knowing very well that Grace would not be able to figure out her worries if she tried. "Why would you say that? Did something happen?" Grace's concern was clear on her round face. Keisha smiled and shrugged. "What's happening? Mr King is having dinner out here. That's rather unusual of him, don't you think," she fished, sounding as nonchalant as she could manage.

* Louis Knight phone rings* ( Servent picks up the phone) " yes how may help you?" ( Kingsley) is Louis there? ( Servent) yes, he is. ( Kingsley) please give the phone to him. ( servent) young master your friend Kingsley wish to speak to you. ( Louis) thank you ....you take your leave now. The servent left his master's room. ( Louis) King what can I help you with? ( Kingsley) can you meet me at our usual hangout place?

His thumb hovered over the screen, Margaret’s name staring back at him. He hadn't spoken to her on the phone personally in a long time . And now— Aaron. His son, maybe his heir or even his shame. But still, he was his son. He needed to know how he was doing. The silence in the room screamed louder than any voice ever could. He stared at the screen a moment longer… and then— Clatter. The phone slipped from his hand and thudded to the carpeted floor. Mr. Kingston buried his face in his hands, elbows braced on the desk. His breathing turned ragged.

"Do you agree to my request?" She let her towel fall loose to the ground and stepped out of it, making sure to keep eye contact with mine as she pressed her naked body on mine. She guided my hands to the precipice of her dripping cunt and slowly rocked herself on my fingers. "Touch me, Mr. Martinez," She purred, biting down on her lower lip. Without warning, like a dog in heat, I plunged my fingers inside her and she gasped, letting out a loud moan that filled the room. I stroked her deeper as she held on tightly to me.

"Don't worry, Mr. Sinclair, it's a professional burn ointment. Even if we went to the hospital, they'd probably just use the same stuff." Her words hit a nerve with Jonathan, as though she were suggesting that he, a capable CEO, had no idea about basic medical care. He opened his mouth to say something more, but was interrupted when Kylie's phone rang. The screen clearly displayed the name "Nathan Kingsley". Kylie glanced at the screen before turning to Jonathan. "Excuse me, sir. I just need to take this call." Jonathan's mouth was still half-open, but he shot back sharply, "I haven't finished speaking yet."

I curled up on the couch, pulled a blanket over my knees, and scrolled through N*****x. Thankfully, Jamal hasn’t logged me out of his N*****x yet. A movie. That’s all I needed. Just one movie to forget everything BZZZ. BZZZ. BZZZ.BZZZ.BZZZ. I groaned, reaching blindly for the phone. “Goddammit, Jamal, stop—” But it wasn’t his name on the screen this time. Unknown Number. “ Now, who could this be?” My thumb hovered. And then I picked up. Silence. And then, that voice.That soothing voice. “Hey, princess.”

I couldn't let them see how weak and exhausted I was on the inside, I couldn't let them see how close I was to giving up on everything, including my entire self and life. An older man walks into the and the backs of both Jersey and I involuntarily straightens immediately. The man looking to be in his late thirties walks towards us, he maintains a barely visible polite smile onto his face. “Mrs. Morgan.” The man says bringing his hand out for a handshake and I politely stand to return his hand shake. “Mr. Kingsley.” I say letting out a breathe. “Thank you for coming.” Mr. Kingsley says and I'm almost sure he only said that in a bid to be polite.

He pushed Thomas out of the way only to be blocked by Queen Kennedy. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. I need to get my wife to a doctor. If she dies in that seat, will you be responsible?” He growled, his voice so cold it could freeze an ocean. Queen stood head to head with him, unmoving, with a cold smile stretching her red lips, “You won’t be stepping anywhere, Silas. Dahlia will finish painting even if she dies in that chair.” Silas saw fucking red, anger blurring everything as he stepped close and was about to lift her by her throat and smash her against the wall when Edward rushed by his side,

“Mark Evans. I represent Mr. Damian Kingsley.” I blinked. My brain tried to catch up. “The CEO?” “Yes.” My stomach dropped. Damian Kingsley wasn’t just some CEO. He was the CEO. Ruthless. Rich. On every Forbes list, every headline. Cold as the stock market and twice as unfeeling. I stared at the card. Didn’t read it. “Why would someone like him want to talk to me?” Mark’s expression didn’t change. “Mr. Kingsley believes you might be the answer to a mutual problem.”