Page 99 of Pawn

It’s like I needed her more than she needed me. Swallowing the glob in my throat, I take off down the hall while the rest of our friends tend to her. Allie calls my name but I keep going, finding the staircase.

Climbing down the few floors, it’s like I’m a real spy, dodging doctors, nurses and security cameras while I follow signs to the exit.

The door to a black car opens when I get outside in the fresh spring air, Damien making room for me in the backseat. “Get in, Rowland.” He holds a hand out and I reach for it. Cold and firm.

Freedom feels close. Freedom with my King.

Once he pulls me in, he wraps me in his arms, planting another kiss on my lips before he tells the driver to move. We whip down Eden’s streets for what could be the last time in a long time. Resting my head on him, there’s a flutter in my chest knowing we’re not going down with this town. As we get closer to the mansion, the conversation with Willow replays in my head.

This can’t be the last time I see her. I won’t let that happen.

“Grab anything important,” Damien says when we pull into the mansion driveway.

We’re quick through the front door, lavish foyer and chandelier greeting me as always. Turns out I never did fit into all this, and now, I can escape it—with him. My boots thud to our bedroom and while it feels more like Damien, the Sebastien vibe never really left and I’m ready for a fresh start. Since I didn’t come into Eden with much, I’m not leaving with much either. Rummaging through the drawers, I grab my comfy band tees before grabbing the framed photo from off the dresser.

Mom and Dad.

I still don’t know what the photo Damien has means and if we’re leaving Eden, I’m not sure I ever will.

Stopping into the guest room Willow’s using, I leave behind a couple of Mom’s rings. If I don’t make it back here, she can have me with her on her fingers.

Leaving the room, Damien passes me on the way to his office, a duffel bag on his shoulder. “Anything else?” I ask and it feels like we’re robbing his own house.

“There’s an emergency stash of cash in the closet in the third guest room. Grab it,” he instructs.

“Emergency stash of cash?” I repeat. “How much are we talking?”

“Go, Jo.” Damien rushes into the office while I go down the hall into the room I’ve never seen him use.

In similar King fashion, it’s decorated in white and black, this room is mostly white. Furry white rugs sit on either side of the white-framed bed, a large heavy-looking mirror to the side of it.

“Rich people,” I mutter, heading for the closet. It’s half the size of Damien’s but that’s not saying much. It’s still massive, tall white shelves and a marble table in the middle.

There aren’t any clothes on the racks but stacks of boxes sit all over. Damien wasn’t very specific with what to look for. Pulling out drawers and boxes piled towards the back doesn’t lead me to a big pile of cash.

“It’s better if you come in here and look for yourself!” I call after opening another box full of King Financial merchandise.

I’m not sure if he hears me but after some thudding from the hall, Damien’s in the room and the closet. Pine and peppermint take over as he presses me against the shelf, reaching high. His hair swoops over his eye as he does, his hoodie rising to reveal those washboard abs.

“You expected me to reach that?” I ask, his hard pecs pressing against my tits and it reminds me of how we met. In a tight space, just us two.

The knot in my stomach tightens, and I know this isn’t the time. But when he glances down, his eyes meeting mine, the way he bites his lip tells me I’m not the only one with dirty thoughts.

“What happened to your sleuthing skills, Rowland?” The duffel bag drops to the floor half-open, stacks of cash inside but Damien’s not focused on that. His hand comes to my cheek. “This is kinda—”

“Hot?” I finish, his eyes drooping as my hands roam up his hoodie, my skin on his. A finger trails those washboard abs, that lower ‘v’ until I’m walking them along his happy trail.

“Yeah,” he groans. “You like being a filthy criminal?”

“You’re the criminal,” I say, on my tip-toes so I can bring myself closer to his lips. “My criminal. My King. Are we really doing this? Running away together?”

“You better believe it, Rowland,” he groans, his hand pushing my joggers down. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

When he leans in to kiss me, I’m already reaching for his belt, our heavy breaths loud in the small room. He’s hard when I reach in, throbbing in his hold, and when two cold fingers come between my legs, he growls.

“I love how wet you get for me, Jo,” he groans, thrusting my fist as his fingers plunge inside me. “Even like this. You’ve always been as twisted as I am. You can’t help it.”

Kicking out of my joggers, I squeeze harder on his shaft, stroking it while he fucks my hand. “Shut up and fuck me while we have tiiiiiime.” He doesn’t take my demands lightly, his fingers thrusting inside me making my words sound like I’m in a musical.

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