Page 13 of Ruined By King

Fuck.

She's tight. So fucking tight, her pussy stretching around me, gripping me like she was made for this. Made for me.

Her head falls back as I bottom out inside her, her nails digging into my forearms. I hold there, letting her adjust. "You can take it. You're going to take all of it."

I start to move. Slow at first, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in. Letting her feel every inch.

"This is what you wanted?" I grip her hips, holding her in place. "The enemy president's cock inside you? Your daddy's worst nightmare making you scream?"

"Yes." She's breathless, rocking her hips to meet my thrusts. "Yes, fuck, please⁠—"

"Please what?"

"Harder."

I snap my hips forward, driving into her deep, and she cries out. I set a brutal pace, fucking her hard and fast, the desk scraping against the floor with every thrust.

"You're mine now," I growl. "You understand? I don't care whose daughter you are. I don't care who comes looking. You walked into my clubhouse and spread your legs for me, and that makes you mine."

"Yours." She's barely coherent, her pussy clenching around me. "I'm yours, I'm⁠—"

"Come for me." I reach between us, circling her clit with my thumb while I pound into her. "Come on my cock, Demi. Let me feel it."

She shatters.

Her whole body convulses, her pussy gripping me so tight I see stars. She screams — actually screams — and the sound of it pushes me over the edge. I bury myself deep and come harder than I ever have in my life, spilling inside her, claiming her from the inside out.

For a long moment, neither of us moves. We're both breathing hard, sweat-slicked, tangled together on my desk in the wreckage of everything we just destroyed.

I look down at her — flushed, wrecked, still pulsing around my cock — and I don't feel an ounce of regret.

"This changes everything," she whispers.

"I know." I drag my thumb across her swollen lip. "Still don't give a shit."

CHAPTER 4

DEMI

Two weeks.

Two weeks of sneaking out after dark, of burner phones and back roads and lies I'm getting way too good at telling. Two weeks of King's hands on my body, his mouth on my skin, his voice in my ear saying things that make me forget every reason this is a terrible idea.

Two weeks of falling for a man who could get me killed.

Tonight, I'm curled up in his bed at the clubhouse, wearing nothing but his t-shirt and watching him get dressed. It's late — past midnight — and I need to leave soon, get back before anyone notices I'm gone. But I can't make myself move. Not yet.

"You're staring," he says without turning around.

"You're worth staring at."

He glances over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised, and I grin at him. He shakes his head, but I catch the hint of a smile tugging at his mouth as he pulls on his jeans.

"Keep looking at me like that and you're not leaving this room."

"Is that supposed to be a threat?"

"It's a promise."