Page 52 of I Was Always Yours (RCA: Royal Crown Academy)

“Why don’t you ask Gloria? I hear you love what she can do with her mouth.”

He gives me an antagonistic grin, the expression revealing how downright evil he is. “Maybe I will.”

“Then leave me alone and go find her. Go spank her ass black and blue. Go fuckher.”

He slams me back down against the sink. He’s tossed the spatula aside so he uses his hand to slap my ass savagely. He doesn’t pause between blows, landing one on each cheek.

“Eight,” I pant. “Nine.”

He grips my throat with his other hand and cuts off my air. “You think I’m doing this because I want to fuck you?”

He unleashes the most painful blow yet on the meatiest part of my ass. My back bows off the table but he keeps me pinned beneath him.

“Ten,” I say breathlessly, completely drained.

My ass is bruised and swollen, my pussy throbs from a combination of arousal and lack of use, and I fight the sudden urge to sleep.

He lays his body over mine until he covers me completely like an animal about to rut its mate. The weight of him keeps me conscious and prepared to engage in whatever torture he plans on inflicting next.

Instead, he cups the back of my neck and forces me to face directly downwards and away from him.

“I have zero desire to fuck you.” He grunts, “If I did, you’d already be face down on the floor with my cum leaking out of all your holes.”

He bites my ear once, viciously. His mouth brushes against my skin as he mutters something in my ear and then he’s gone.

When I turn around the door is already closing behind him, leaving me alone with my thoughts and his final words to me.

I’m pretty sure he whispered “happy birthday” in my ear.

Chapter 17

Phoenix

I want to fuck her.

That’s the only thought pulsing in my brain as I stalk out of the women’s locker room and head for the men’s.

It’s pulsing so violently it sounds like someone’s trying to break down a door with their fists, except that door is my skull and those fists are thoughts of yanking her hair, arching her back, and sinking into her.

I can’t fucking touch her.

She’s not mine to touch, fuck, or even look at. Fresh rage born from sexual frustration churns in my blood. She shouldn’t have shown up to my fight and never wearing the outfit she wore.

I’d thought I was having a random hallucination because never in my wildest dreams would I have guessed she’d have the nerves to do that. She’s always been incredibly shy, even when we were kids, always preferring to be in the back instead of taking the limelight.

It’s one of the reasons I’d continued to be drawn to her, even after we met. We were both people who thrived right on the edge of the light, operating better in the shadows but not far enough not to have influence.

Seeing her literally center stage, looking like she had the world at her feet, had been the mother of all turn ons. She’d looked like a straight up goddess, with shiny hair, long legs, and wide eyes. Her outfit, or lack thereof, highlighted every mouthwatering dip and curve, exposing parts of skin like her belly that I hadn’t seen in years.

I’d wanted to flatten her to the ground and dip my tongue in her belly button before running it down her entire body and up through her wet slit.

Anger followed quickly on lust’s heels when I realized that this show wasn’t for me. That hundreds of men had eyes on something I’d once wanted really fucking badly.

I could only imagine the obscene thoughts they were having as they looked at her. Whatever I’d just conjured up in my head, I knew they’d be visualizing as well. The thought of the graphic fantasies they were having of her had rage curling my hands into fists and adrenaline pumping through my veins. Was it too much to ask that she stay the fuck home, preferably covered from head to toe without an inch of skin on display for other men to ogle at?

I’d finally snapped when I’d overheard Fraser making a pass at her. He’s lucky he crumpled like a cheap lawn chair at the first punch.

I’d planned on killing him.

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