Page 45 of Obsessed Kings

He draws the black one and slides it on my battered ass.

"The most beautiful things are interwoven in pain.One is impossible without the other."

In the lightest strokes, he carves a C on my tummy right above my pussy. The thorn barely scratches me hard enough to draw blood, but the white outline of his initial remains.

I’m Colt’s. This is a presage of what’s to come. He owns me. Controls me. Does what he wants with me.

TWELVE

ROOK

I’m going to be a gentleman to our whore today.

She deserves it for putting up with our possessive natures.

It must be tough to be a girl always being battered around by men who are crazy about her.

I can’t put myself in their shoes.

That’s not what men do.

In prison, I learned to take what I fucking wanted without asking. No one’s bitches left as theirs after I was through with them. When these ladies visited, I charmed them with my dazzling smile and placed my hands eleven inches apart to show them what I was packing. A few of the bitches didn’t believe me, they thought I was some kid trying to get in their pants. I was trying to get in their pants, not because I even wanted to, but because I wanted to add them to my list of hoes. That’s me, Rook. A collector of mature ladies.

Our whore is so much more than another notch on my belt of alpha domination. She’s special. Pure. One of a kind. The way she takes our possessive punishments is nothing short of awe-inspiring. The bitches I’ve fucked at Saintswood should take lessons from her. She evencomes.That’s something I didn’t expect at first. Not many ugly ass whores here are squirters, but our whore’s virgin pussy doesn’t stop squirting. In the joint, I’d say Olivia had a pussy that reminded me of a busted fire hydrant in the hood. I’m a little classier now so I don't try to sound super ghetto, but the point still stands.

"In the limo, bitch."

Olivia scampers into the limousine, her Burberry scarf fluttering behind her. Pride wells up inside me. It’s great seeing my whore wear luxury brands like she deserves. Truth be told, the sweats she wore before we moved her into this fifty-million-dollar penthouse were hot as fuck, but I couldn’t tell her that. Girls always like to hear howprettythey are when they’re done up. They think that’s what guys want.

I have no idea who put that false notion in the female populace’s head. Men aren’t into girls done up in makeup, wearing Chanel, who strut around in shoes that are so unnecessarily complicated I don't even know what they’re supposed to resemble. Guys like bitches who’ll wear their sweatshirts and let loose around them. Play video games and take an interest in the storylines instead of rolling their eyes. Suck our dicks after we eat them out.

"Quit being so fucking timid around me. I’m not going to hurt you." Oh wait.Yes, I am."That much."

Olivia settles into the limo seat. "I just fear that you’re going to rip my clothes off and take my innocence again."

"Baby girl." I don't usually call my bitches fancy ass names, but Olivia deserves to feel safe around me so she knows I’m not a predator. "I haven’t taken your innocence. Last I checked, your virginity is still intact." I shoot her a glare. "Unless you’ve gone and fucked some delivery boy who dropped off your roses."

Olivia whips her head back and forth. "No."

With a growl, I grab her by the hips, which makes her scream, then ram my hand over her mouth and slide her on my lap.

"That’s right, baby girl." A growl escapes me as I rub my hand up and down, smoothing out her trembling legs. "Sit on my lap while my driver takes us to the fanciest steakhouse in Manhattan. You’re going to eat lobster tonight like the Queen you are. A seafood boil."

In juvie, I learned that bitches really love seafood and fancy shit that you can’t get in most restaurants in the USA. That’s what my cellmate told him. I was a teenage wild card then, a boy who preferred to wow bitches with my giant cock instead of taking them out for nice things. A few of my mates taught me that to really sweep a bitch off her fucking feet, I need towoothem.

Take them out to the food court at the mall. Buy them purses and bags.

Bitches like romantic shit. Chicken nuggets after I fuck them senseless isn’t going to cut it.Sixteen-year-old me had so much to learn.

That was around the time that I learned I had a sensitive side. I’m not saying that Colt and Brock don’t—well, I sort of am—but fucking bitches without giving them massages, cuddling them, and burying them in my arms afterwards didn’t do shit for me. Dare I say, I feltemptywhen the only things I wanted empty were my balls.

Olivia curls up on my lap, and she still as I massage her legs. She looks so cute like this, so innocent and submissive in a way that gets my dick hard as fuck.

But she freezes up when my hand reaches her pussy. "Not before the restaurant. Please."

"You don't get to tell me when I can or cannot please your pink little pussy. Your kitty is mine, baby girl. I want to hear it purr for me. Lap up my milk. All I’m going to do is give your clit a little squeeze. A little rub before we eat our lobster."

I tug her lace panties down, then rub on her clit.

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