Page 191 of By His Vow

Why couldn’t it have been like this with the others? The nice ones. The decent ones.

You haven’t been with any nice or decent ones, a little voice says.

Those thoughts are banished when Kingston pushes two fingers deep inside.

“Oh fuck. Yes. Yes,” I cry, throwing my head back and bashing it against the wall again.

“Look at me,” he mumbles, the vibration of his deep voice rocking through every inch of me. “Watch as I make you come.”

Oh, sweet baby Jesus. This man.

This fucking man.

Dropping my chin to my chest, I watch every single second of him working my body, until I’m gripping his hair so tightly, I’m amazed I don’t pull chunks out.

My voice is hoarse as I scream out his name. Wave after wave of pleasure washes through me, and he doesn’t stop until I’m spent.

He pulls away, pressing a kiss to my mound and then on each of my hip bones before he sits back on his haunches.

Movement by the door catches my eye, but it doesn’t bother me. I know what—or should I say, who—it is.

Kingston stills the moment he sees the movement, but it doesn’t register for a few seconds.

“What the fuck?” he bellows suddenly, jumping to his feet as he glares pure death at Griz.

“Your pussy really shouldn’t be watching me eat your pussy, Tatum. That’s just fucking wrong,” he states, placing his hands on his hips.

The movement drags my eyes to his wound.

“Oh shit,” I breathe when I find more blood than I was expecting covering the lower half of his stomach and thigh.

“It’s fine,” he waves off, turning his back on Griz as if he’s worried she’s about to start using his dick like a toy. “Why is it still staring at me?”

“Stop being such a little bitch about a cat. She’s sweet. Come on,” I say, taking his hand after pulling my blood-stained tank from around my middle. “Sit,” I demand, shoving him onto the closed toilet.

“She is not sweet,” he mutters as I pull the drawer open and find the first-aid kit he mentioned.

Dropping to my knees between his thighs, I grab what I need while King has a stare-off with Griz.

Leaving them to it, I begin cleaning at his scratches with a wipe.

“Holy fuck. What the hell is that?” he practically screeches as he tries to scramble away from me.

“It’s an antiseptic wipe, you baby. Jesus, sit back down.”

“Just stick a bandage on it or something,” he demands.

“We need to make sure it’s clean first. You don’t want it to get infected.”

“If there is any chance of that thing infecting me, then I’m sorry, but it needs putting down.”

“Kingston,” I snap. “You lay a finger on Griz and you will wake up to find your dick has been unattached from your body,” I warn darkly, making his eyes widen.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Care to test the theory?” I ask, pressing the wipe against him again. This time he only hisses in pain. Wimp.

“You love my dick too much to cut it off. You’d miss it.”

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