Page 68 of Kneel with the King
Something in my chest aches, something raw and starved for permission.
“You make it so easy to want to take care of you,” he murmurs.
And fuck. That feels really good, like heaven and ruin all at the same time.
Just like that, the chaos inside my chest starts to settle.
“You’re talking to me like you’re already my Dominant,” I say, trying to give him a wry smile. The panic ebbs, and when King pulls his lower lip between his teeth to look down at me, I feel… something.
It shifts in my chest, and suddenly things feel like they might be okay.
“Aren’t I?” he asks, raising a hand and running his fingers through my hair.
My eyes flutter closed at the feel of his warm fingertips massaging my skull.
“It’s all fake,” I say, my voice barely audible. “This. Us. It’s all for show. I mean, I’m not a submissive.”
King narrows his eyes before removing his hand from my hair, and I almost ask him to keep going. He takes a step away, and I feel the physical loss of him. His eyes rove over my body slowly, and everything inside of me heats under his gaze.
“I suppose we’ll have to agree to disagree.”
I open my mouth to reply—something snarky on the edge of my tongue—but he turns and walks away. The bathroom door closes, and I let a long breath out before standing up.
I’m not panicked anymore, but that doesn’t mean I have to play this game with him. Just because he calmed me down doesn’t mean I have to pander to his whims.
The shower turns on in the bathroom, and steam begins to drift under the door a moment later, like the air itself is exhaling. I stand there, still shirtless, collared, and slightly disoriented—emotionally and existentially.
What the hell am I doing?
I turn toward the mirror above the dresser and catch my reflection.
My hair is a mess. My eyes are bloodshot. The black leather of the collar stands out against the skin of my throat, and I look… lost. Not just from the hangover. Not just from whatever happened last night.
I press the heels of my palms against my eyes. This is not who I am. I’ve never unraveled like this in my life. I don’tsubmit.
Except I just did.
And part of me liked it.
When the water shuts off a few minutes later, I’m still standing there, caught in that space between denial and some kind of revelation. The bathroom door opens with a soft creak.
King steps out with a towel slung low around his hips. Steam clings to his skin. His chest gleams in the light, and his eyes land on me with that same unreadable intensity.
He cocks his head slightly. “Still here? I thought you’d have run off by now.”
I don’t answer right away. My eyes skim over his muscles, catching on the tattoos. I swallow and look away.
“I should be gone by now.”
“Then why aren’t you?”
“I need to take a shower before my meeting with Walter.”
King steps away from the door and gestures for me to go into the bathroom. I do, grabbing a change of clothes before closing the door behind me. Once inside, I unclasp the collar and set it on the edge of the sink.
The shower is invigorating, and I can still smell King’s bodywash, the cinnamon scent that has somehow wrapped around my consciousness in a way that hardens my cock.
Fuck.
