Page 5 of King of Liars

“King Sy,” I blurted out, blushing as I spoke the words. “My fucking King,” I continued as I stroked so fucking hard it burned at my flesh.

Why had it felt so fucking good to say those words? Why did I want to say them again?

“My fucking King,” I repeated before I shot, the high tearing through me like it had that first time I’d learned to jerk off, when I didn’t fucking know what was happening to me as the blood surged to my face and my body convulsed.

My balls tightened as I came and came and came.

It felt like it would never end, until it did.

Relief.

Ease.

However, it was short-lived, and everything about the dream reminded me of what I didn’t get to experience in reality. Of what I’d shot down out of pride.

In the afterglow of my fantasy fuck, I imagined what it would be like, what it would feel like, to take King Sy up on his offer.

Pfft.

Never.

* * *

Sy didn’t stop hauntingmy dreams that week.

Hell, at that point, it was more like nightmares since we never followed through, perhaps because my mind couldn’t really imagine what sort of climax Sy could take me to. Or perhaps because there was this fantasy-prone part of me that believed it could be Sy himself. Like these guys were some sort of witch coven…or wizard coven…whatever the hell, something evil that could conjure up nightmares like that against my will.

I knew that was absurd, but what about this wasn’t?

However, my world was more than some weird-ass encounter with some fucked-up guys who went to Daris Tech University with me. I had a life to manage, which included a part-time gig at the local coffee shop and playing catch-up on some courses I needed since I’d made my transfer from my hometown community college.

The Friday after that first meeting at Sy’s place, I was at work, taking orders from customers until business died down and trying to forget there was an open invitation to join Sy and his knights. I was doing a good job of adjusting to my new life in North Carolina. I was fairly impressed with myself over the past few weeks. I could have hung around my dorm room, binge watching Netflix and listening to podcasts, but I’d pushed myself into nabbing this job and going to parties with my roommates to meet new people.

As I grabbed a coffee for the final customer in line, I noticed I needed to fetch some more cups from the back.

“Hey there, Boss,” I heard and whipped around without thinking, practically spilling coffee all over my shirt.

“Ah, fuck,” I said to the burn against my flesh before my eyes shifted back up to him.

There he fucking was, those honey-brown eyes locked on mine, that smile mocking me.

When I wasn’t around him, at least I could pretend I had exaggerated how hot he was in my own mind. It was unreasonable—he wasn’t the hottest fucking guy in the world. Hell, I tried to fixate on all the parts of his face that were so fucking annoying to me, that weren’t symmetrical or were maybe even average features.

That’s what he was. Average.

And yet, he wasn’t.

It was something in the way he looked at me, or maybe the way he smirked like he had all this power over me, even though he didn’t…because he fucking couldn’t. There was no way.

Regardless of what it was, I stood feet away from the front counter, trying to convince myself that he didn’t hold this power over me. But I was a fucking liar, because I wanted him…so goddamn bad that fighting it only made the knot in my chest that much tighter.

“Are you gonna clean that up?” he asked, giving me the once-over, his forehead scrunched up.

I hadn’t thought much time had passed, but apparently, as I worked my way through all the thoughts he managed to stir about everything I saw in him, time had slipped from my grasp.

Cleaning up my mess gave me a great excuse to avoid his gaze.

I remade the customer’s drink, handing it to them and apologizing for my misstep. Then I checked to make sure I’d wiped everything off before approaching the register, and Sy.

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