Page 53 of Sinister Legacy
“I’m sorry. That came out wrong.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not.” King pulls his jeans back up and fastens the belt. “It was fucking insensitive of me.” Instead of leaving, he rolls over onto his side and pulls me into his body. I’m so shocked, I don’t dare breathe. King always leaves after sex. Without exception. I don’t know what to do, so I breathe him in—bergamot, peppermint, and a hint of sweat. I’m still naked from the waist down, but King makes no move to retrieve my jeans off the floor. Instead, he slides his hand down to my leg and hooks it over his hip. Using his arm as a cushion, he searches my face. “I couldn’t face school this week… Jasper’s empty seat in the cafeteria… The haunted look in my friends’ eyes.”
I press my finger over his lips. “You don’t need to explain.”
He nips it with his teeth, then replies, “I haven’t slept for days. I have nightmares every time I close my eyes.”
My heart hurts, and the urge to make his pain go away and soothe it somehow overwhelms me. Pushing up on an elbow, I slide my fingers into the silky, damp hair at the nape of his neck. “I’m sorry.”
It’s an inadequate thing to say. Especially when I wasn’t there that night. I don’t know what they stumbled upon in the forest, but the haunted look in King’s eyes tells of unspeakable horrors.
Stroking my hair away from my brow, King swallows thickly. “What are you sorry for?”
“A lot of things…” I kiss him softly, inhaling his breath. When I lean back, I struggle to look him in the eye. “I’m sorry you’re going through this. I’m sorry your friend died. I’m sorry that I can do nothing to help or make it stop. But most of all, I’m sorry to have put you in this situation.”
His calloused fingers glide down my cheek, following my jaw line. He cups my chin. “You didn’t put me in this situation.”
“If you weren’t fucking me—”
King cuts me off with a hard kiss. The kind of kiss that tells me to shut up.
Shoving him off, I throw my legs over the side of the bed and swipe up my jeans, but King steals them from me, wraps the pant leg around my neck, and proceeds to choke me with it. His gravelly voice rumbles in my ear. “None of this is your fucking fault.”
My hands fly up, clawing at the denim fabric.
“Stop blaming yourself for shit you have no control over.” Breathing me in, his nose dragging over my cheek, he whispers in my ear, “Besides, no one can keep me from your pussy. Not even you.” With a sharp pull, he tightens the denim around my throat until I begin to struggle. In the midst of the sick depravity, one thought screams in my head: I love his strength and how he uses it to subdue me; his lust for violence and how he doesn’t hold back when he’s with me; the fact that he just fucked me in the ass and now he’s strangling me with my own jeans because he can.
“Fuck, I missed you,” he whispers as I gasp for air. “I missed the way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you concentrate on a task in class, and the sound of your laughter in the hallway between classes. It’s rare, which makes it even more special. And it also makes me jealous of whoever made you happy enough to let your laughter bubble up from your chest. I want it for myself. I want it to be for my ears only, just like your moans and whimpers. I hate it when others get to see you smile or cry. All of your emotions belong to me. Each and every one. If you’re horny, it’s because I made you horny. If you’re scared, it’s because I’m chasing you through the forest. And if you’re happy, it’s because I make you happy.”
My feet kick out on the bed as my nails claw my skin in the process of trying to pull the denim away from my throat.
I just need a breath.
My lungs scream with pain, and my cunt gushes. I’m so fucking horny.
King slides my pants from around my neck, and oxygen rushes back into my lungs. I cough and splutter, tingling all over.
When I finally look at King, it’s with unrestrained desire in my eyes. He’s lying back and stroking his hardening cock again, his arm behind his head, one leg drawn up. “I want your mouth on me.”
There’s a cold draft coming from the windows, despite the thick curtains. I bet I’d see snow if I looked outside.
I should leave.
Keira is with Liam.
But like an addict, I watch her sleep as the first sliver of light crawls along the bed.
I have never stayed the night with Keira before. Never slept beside her. Not that I got much rest since I stayed awake all night to watch her sleep.
Call me a creep, but I can’t get enough of her.
The thought crosses my mind of killing Liam. It’s not the first time my mind has conjured up ways of getting rid of the boyfriend problem without incriminating myself. I could think of a hundred different ways, and they all end with Liam buried six feet under, where he belongs.
I want Keira to myself, and I hate the thought of him putting his hands on her or watching her sleep.
I like that when I’m with Keira, the rest of the world fades away, and all the other crap is just annoying background noise when she’s around.
