“Being cute now won’t save you,” he says ominously low.
“I wouldn’t dream of even trying.”
He just shakes his head like I can’t be believed and backs out of the parking space. I sit quietly in my seat for the remainder of the drive, lost in my own thoughts. I feel like I’m trapped between a rock and a hard place. How can I want him one minute and then not stand to be around him the next?
I know I need to walk away, to end whatever this madness is. This attraction is making us into awful people, and I can’t help but think that if we just let go, we could go back to who we really are. But then another part of me wonders if he has somehow altered me irrevocably.
And even if I did try to end it, why do I think he wouldn’t let me go? Everything seems to be on King’s terms—when he takes me and when he pushes me away. There is not one moment that’s mine to decide. Just like the rest of my life. Someone else gets to determine my future. But when is enough going to be enough? When do I get to decide?
I spend the whole drive quietly contemplating the truth of my entire existence, so when we pull into my estate, I’m surprised. The drive from Los Angeles back to San Diego is not a short one. When he parks the car, I get out and silently follow him to the door and wait while he checks the house for intruders.
I don’t speak a word as I take the steps up to my bedroom, knowing the entire time that he’s following me. He follows me right into my room, into my space, and watches me with keen eyes as I toss my purse and my jacket on top of a low dresser.
“So what should I do with you now?” he asks, his voice low and vibrating—with unspent fury or lust, I do not know.
“I don’t know,” I answer aloud, but we both know that I do. I’m weak and lacking, and I always will be.
“I think I should eat you until you come on my mouth,” he says, and my breath catches in my throat. “And then I think I should fuck your pretty pink pussy until you ache, so you’ll remember tomorrow to behave.”
This is my chance, my opportunity to tell him no more. That I can’t keep doing this. The push and the pull is too great, and in the end, I’m always left hurting. But I don’t. Instead, I let him strip me of my clothes and lay me on the bed, because in the end, my moth will fly too close to his flame, and only when he’s singed my wings—again—will I learn my lesson the hard way.
I watch as he pulls his T-shirt over his head and listen to the clank of his belt buckle as it hits the floor with his jeans. His olive skin is all on display for me, from his powerful shoulders to his hard cock, and I want it all, even though I shouldn’t.
I do not speak, and neither does he, as I nod once, giving in, surrendering to him like we both knew I would. As if I could ever walk away from him. I am as disgusted with myself as much as I want him to make good on his threats.
There’s no slow build-up, no flowery words or delicate touches as he kneels on the bed at my feet. King leans over me and uses his broad body to spread my legs before he throws them over his shoulders and puts his mouth to me, spearing me with his tongue, making my breath catch and my fingers tighten in the sheets beside me.
King works me with his mouth. He bites and licks and kisses. He drives a finger deep inside me and pumps it in and out, curving it in a way that makes my toes curl. And then he adds another, driving me higher and higher so quickly that I feel like I’ll shatter into a million pieces, and no one and nothing will ever be able to put me back together again if I do.
But when there is nothing but lust and passion, no hearts are engaged, there is no mercy for the weak. King is never going to show me mercy as he uses my body to betray me. This fuck is a punishment not a present, and he shoves me savagely right over the edge.
He does not even give me a chance to catch my breath, to come down from my climax, when he scoops me up and slams my back against the headboard before he’s driving me down, impaling me on his hard length. King pins me up, high enough that I have no purchase, nothing to grab hold of but him. So I do. I wrap my arms and legs around him and hold on as best as I can.
He grits his teeth as he pounds into me, holding nothing back. The pads of his fingertips dig into the flesh of my ass as he holds me tight, spreading me helplessly open for his invasion.
The orgasm that he gave me was so strong and so fierce that there is no way I could come again. I hold on and whisper in his ear. I press my lips against his neck and touch my tongue to him, tasting the salt of the sweat on his skin.
It only seems to drive him higher, and he pushes his body faster, to drive harder inside me. And just when I think it possibly couldn’t, it builds again. Hard and fast, burning me up from the inside out.
“King,” I gasp.
“Sky,” he growls as he pulls me down on his cock again and again to punctuate his words. “You call me Sky in this bed.”
“Sky,” I agree, and my voice comes out in breathy pants, and I dig my nails into his shoulder as it washes over me.
“That’s it.”
“Yes,” I gasp as I drop my head back and hold on.
“Mouth,” he barks. “I want your mouth when you come.”
“I can’t,” I cry out. I can barely hold on.
“Yes. You. Can,” he grounds out. “Mouth.” And I tip my head forward and lock my eyes on his as I press my mouth to his, desperately trying to hold on for the ride.
And then it rolls over me once and for all, devastating me in its wake.
King groans against my lips as he drives me down one last time, holding me onto him as he follows me over the edge.
