Page 59 of King

Damien chuckles, thumb brushing against my lip. "Don't sell yourself short." His lips press against mine and my brain turns to cotton.

There's a voice in my head telling me to stop him but I don’t. His kiss is like a refreshing drink of water. The first meal of the day. I tried to fight it but I’ve been craving this and my body shows it.

Damien's fingers move into the band of the baggy pants I've been wearing to work. As he toys with my tongue, I let his hand between my legs. Damien’s touch is a small piece of comfort in this cold town. He’s icy-hot but when he’s hot, it makes me forget damn near everything.

“You’re always so wet for me Jo.” He moves his fingers over my clit, the fabric of my underwear keeping a layer between us. “Sure you don’t want to tell me more?”

“N-” I can’t even get the words out before there’s cold air against my folds.

"Let me in." With a tug of my underwear, two fingers push into me. “I’ll stop if you don’t.”

He’s moving fast, curling his fingers in that way again and I’ve already lost composure.

I murmur, “I can’t.” God his fingers feel so good. If he’s this good with his fingers I can’t help but wonder how he handles that beast hardening between us. My hands move to his shirt, fabric tight in my hold. I’m almost at the edge when he stops, stance straightening.

“That’s a shame.” He pulls his fingers to my lips, sticking them inside my mouth so I can taste my tangy sweetness. Then he smirks, “See you around Medusa.”

With a kiss on the head, he starts to walk away, and for some reason, I can’t bear it.

My heart races, my world spinning before the words fall out of my mouth.

“I killed someone.”

Eighteen

Damien stops in his path.

My hands shake, breath heavy and I can’t move from where I’m standing.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I should have never said that.

Closing my eyes I lift my chin to the ceiling. Fuck, I’m so stupid. I’ve got some explaining to do.

I’m quick with my words as I speak to his back, “I didn’t mean for it to happen. Zane, the guy at the dumpster, I guess you could say we used to work together. We had this one job, my last…”

As the tale starts to unfold there’s a tingling in my chest. A tightness I can’t fight. By the time the tears start to roll down my face, he’s facing me, staring at me with a blank expression.

He hasn’t left. Hasn’t run for the door. So I keep going, using his attention like a priest in a confessional, “We gave him bad product. It was his first time and he—” The tears are flowing out like a broken dam, and I’m clutching to the counter.

I’m panicking and it shows.

Damien approaches me but I hardly register it. Instead, I’m seeing that fifteen-year-old kid in my head. Convulsing and shaking on the basement floor. Yells ring in my mind. The shout for 9-1-1 following it. I’m frozen in place, just like I was then.

“Jo.” I’m startled out of my thoughts to see Damien in front of me, his hand on each of my shoulders making me jump. It’s one of the rare times he’s used my preferred name. No Medusa. No Joelle. His eyebrows are low, voice lower, “Do the Huangs know?”

“What?” I’m still a trembling mess when he wipes a tear away from my cheek.

“Cindy Huang. Is that what they have on you?”

I shake my head. “What are you talking about?” I don’t know if I was expecting him to console me, or expecting him to say that it would all be okay. Then it dawns on me. Was he doing this for ammo?

I look up at his face, he’s staring right back, almost as confused as I am. “Damien, you can’t tell anybody.”

He jerks his head back as if I’ve said something ridiculous, then his mouth twists. “You don’t get to request anything of me.”

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