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“No, please listen, King—”
“Stop.” He stands, lifting Prince from his bassinet. I begin to panic, knowing he’s leaving me and not even giving me a chance to try and plead my case.
“Kings, please.” I shiver, suddenly cold, grabbing at his arm as he moves around me.
“I’m going to go put him down for a nap. I don’t want him down here if we’re going to talk about this, in case things get heated.” Instantly, I relax as I loosen my hold on him. I wait anxiously, pacing the kitchen and waiting for him to come back. When he does, he plops back down in his seat, looking irritated and nowhere near ready to believe anything I say. Kingston isn’t going to believe me, nor is he going to listen unless I get myself inside him like I usually do. I have to pull out all the cards if he’s going to hear me out for even a second.
“Baby...” I trail off on a whisper, calling to him with a single tear rolling down my cheek.
He drops his head and cries in pain, “Fuck, Lana.”
I use it, use our kryptonite. I know it was a cheap shot and a move I shouldn’t use at a time like this, but I’ve gone mad with desperation. I need to hold on to him for a little while longer. Call me sick; call me twisted and fucked up. All those are true, but what else is true is that Kingston is mine, and the thought of losing him is not something I can do.
“Baby, I love you and I’m sorry. I know I’m sick, and I’ll do whatever to make you happy, to keep us together.”
He watches me with guarded eyes as I get to him. I come to stand beside him, and instantly I smell him, the man I’ve loved for years. I’ve been his for so long that he has branded me, his smell so potent and engraved into my senses so deep I can even taste it.
“You can’t do this, Lana. You can’t tell me what I want to hear, cripple me, and then break me all over again. I’m tired of it.” He shakes his head and leans back in his chair, throwing his head back. There is enough room between him and the table for me to sit, so I do just that. Lifting my leg, I sit astride his lap, straddling him so I can keep the upper hand.
I grab his face in my hands, the overnight scruff on his chiseled jaw scraping against my delicate palms. I shiver, liking the small amount of friction.
“You once said to me that you would fight a thousand forevers just to spend one with me. This is our forever, baby. I know that now.” I use his words that never once left my heart. He whimpers like a wounded dog, his brows drawing in and his jaw clenching under my hands.
“Lana, I did, and you fucking turned me inside out. You let me bleed dry.” He shakes his head and I match it, shaking mine and hushing him.
“Shh, no, baby, I didn’t. I promise I didn’t. Please let me make it up to you. I will go to therapy. I will bleed with you and bare my soul if it means you will give me one last chance.” The cruel torture that I have put him through is sickening and I see it now more than ever.
I’m turning off my blinders, focusing on something else other than my own demons. Being selfless in this moment is showing me just how fucking selfish I’ve been—and it’s disturbing. Who I am hates who I’ve been. And now, in the early morning,
in the kitchen of what looks to be a picture-perfect home on the outside, I sit in the broken inside, shuddering and dwindling down the road of discovery. I have discovered I’ve been a terrible queen to my all-encompassing, passionate, selfless, giving, and loving king.
Checkmate. Queen needs to fight for her king.
“How can I trust what you’re saying, Lana? You’ve said countless times what I die to hear, and once you settle, you turn it all around and fall back into motion and distance yourself from me.”
His words hurt, but I let him have that shot at me. Because, well, if the shoe fits.
“Because, I want to fight a thousand forevers for you.”
“Damn it, baby,” he curses, dropping his eyes to my chest.
Pulling my hands from his face, I grab his large hand and bring it to my chest.
“You feel it?” My heart is beating a mile a minute.
“Yeah, Lana, I do,” He admits, no emotion reaching his face.
“It’s beating for you. I will do the therapy. I will do whatever you need. Just please don’t break us. We can fight this, baby. We’ve done it before. So many times.” I lean in and kiss his lips. At first, he doesn’t kiss me back, so I go back in, nipping at his soft, limp lip. I pucker mine and graze over each centimeter of his, our eyes not closing, focused on one another.
I stay nose-to-nose, our lips still whispering against each other as I say quietly into the morning, “You once asked me why I love you, and I said it’s because I can trust you. I need you to trust me, Kingston. Please.” The tears that were at bay just moments ago come crashing down, cascading between us and sliding over our touching lips.
Without another word, his resolve shatters and he accepts me, trusts me, owns me like he always has. He trails his hands over my body as they leave my thighs, sliding up the curve of my silk-covered spine, then up into the back of my hair where he grips, nearly suffocating me. He sucks the air out of me, all while breathing it back into me, his control key to my survival.
There is a hunger that has never been in his kiss before. A power—a dominant trait that he hides from me in order to keep my triggers from firing. But what he doesn’t know is I like it. Not only do I miss his touch, but I need it. It’s the one thing we have always had when everything else was crumbling around us. My walls come down, my defenses no longer able to fight. Here and now, I’m ready to do whatever this man needs in order to save us. I would fall at his feet if he asked.
My nails dig into the skin of his taut chest, and it’s hot under my possessive touch. Our tongues battle, massaging and rolling like waves against each other, messy yet in sync. I whimper in his mouth as I begin to grind against him, and the sound resembles his low growl, the one that vibrates under my fingers. He taste like coffee, bacon, and him. An odd combination that feels like home.
The friction of his growing cock is enough to grind against my swollen clit. The desire mixed with months and months of deprivation has me chasing my orgasm fast. He pulls his lips away from me and tilts his head, bringing his forehead to mine as his eyes lower and his mouth drops open. His heavy breathing and mine mingle as we both look down at our joined bodies. My nightie has ridden up my thighs, the tiniest peek of pussy skin showing as I pivot my hips back and forth over the tent in his bottoms.
