Page 80 of Knight

“Is that what you want?” He slows when he reaches my slender leg, tossing it open like I’m a weightless doll. “You want to stop me from eating the one thing I have an appetite for?”

“I—”

“Why are you here, Medusa?” He walks his finger up my thigh and each touch makes me shiver.

“Not to fight with you.”

“Isn’t this what we do, Jo? We fight. We say we hate each other’s guts when we don’t so we can fuck away the pain. Like animals.” My kilt moves up with his movements, blanket dropping down to my elbows. It’s like my body knows what I want, the feeling between my legs getting harder to ignore.

“You are pain,” I reply.

“And you like it.” He stops by my lips, his soft pout only inches away. “You’re as twisted as I am. You just don’t want to admit it.”

Is that true? Is he onto something? Is that why I’m not with Christian in Cabo right now? Instead, I’m on Damien King’s kitchen floor while he reads me to filth in that sexy tone. With that sexy face.

“I-I still don’t trust you,” I whisper and I hate how my voice sounds. Hate that it gives me away. “And I don’t know if you trust me.”

“You sure about that?” He’s between my legs and I’m letting him push me to the floor. “You don’t trust me with my tongue in your sweet, juicy, hole? You trust me with your body, Joelle. That speaks volumes. And by the end of these two weeks, you’ll be begging for mercy.”

His lips collide with mine and fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I’m letting him. They’re too soft to resist. Too warm and perfect. I’ve always had trouble saying no to his lips on mine and this time is no different. He pulls on my kilt like he’s tearing through a gift, like I’m his only gift and it’s not long before I’m naked in front of him again.

He leans back, taking me in until his brows furrow. “Did Christian see you like this?”

“What?”

His nostrils flare before he takes me by the hand, pulling me onto his lap, ass in the air. His hands roam my cheeks before he follows it with a deep growl, “I thought I told you no one sees you like this but me.”

“Wh—”

SLAP!

My eyes shoot open, a sting running through my cheek. It sends a rippling sensation through me. And fuck, that felt … good. He’s rubbing my other cheek. “Did he see you like this?”

SMACK!

A moan escapes my lips, one that surprises me. The feeling of that warm sting on my skin only heightens my desire. Only makes me want more.

“Are you trying to make me jealous, Joelle?”

SLAP!

“N-no,” I moan.

“You sure?” Each slap he gives is better than the last, my cheeks burning to his touch before he pulls me by my hair. He brings my ear to his lips, his fingers at the entrance of my folds. “Because it worked.”

He pushes his fingers inside me and there’s no resistance. Little burn. My body wants him and who the fuck am I kidding? I want this too. I always do. His fingers find my spot with little effort and he’s quick to attack it, pumping in and out, using his rage to please me. I’m moaning into his lap, another smack coming to my cheeks as he pushes and probes. He’s right. I do like this. I like Damien King dominating me with his strong hands. Nothing compares to his firm touch.

I’ve only been with a few guys from The Grove, Zane included, but no one’s ever handled me like Damien. He’s always urgent like he wants me in that very moment and when he takes me, I’m proud to be his prize.

I’m already almost there. Just a few more pumps, my body writhing and squirming under his hold. I can feel his cock getting firm underneath me and it makes me let out a loud moan. It’s easy to feel like a pornstar when I’m with the King.

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” he says. “Say you’re mine.” He smacks my ass again and I’m seeing stars, almost at the edge when he stops his movements. He pulls on my hair, his voice in my ear again, “Say it, Joelle.”

But I don’t know if I can give him that, again. How’s he supposed to be mine, or how am I supposed to be his when we don’t trust each other? When I don’t answer quick enough he growls, laying me on my back before he’s climbing on top of me. “I guess I’ll have to show you how mine you are.”

He unbuckles his belt in record time, slipping a condom on his hard, glistening length before he climbs on top of me. When he pushes his raging cock inside me, it’s like that rush of heroin. That sweet, sweet release. Damien King is my addiction. The remedy.

“Yesss,” I moan, my legs wrapping around him, keeping me in place while he thrusts inside me like a maniac. Like a man who’s gone without food for far too long. It’s only been a couple of weeks since the last time but the way we’re attacking each other makes it feel like years.

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