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Swinging my legs over the bed, I run my fingers through my hair, pushing it out of the way. I freeze when I remember where I am.
Royce.
Black silk sheets, inky covers, and white pillows. There’s a single art piece hanging on the wall, an empty canvas. White. Nothing painted on it. A large TV that takes up most of the wall hangs on the opposite side, with a chest of drawers below it.
Inhaling and exhaling, I try to pull myself together. Reaching for my phone on the bedside table, I flick through the home screen.
Nothing.
No missed calls, no text messages from James. The fact that he hasn’t reached out to me sends fear rustling through me. Pushing off the bed, I make my way to the door, swinging it open and browse down the long hallway. There’s a light that’s on at the end, so I make my way toward it, the cold floor pressing against the soles of my feet. My heart crackles in my chest, my stomach rolling with unease. I don’t know what Royce is going to be like when I see him.
I take the two steps that lead down into the lounge and kitchen area, pausing when I find him lying back against the sofa, an arm thrown over his face and his head resting on the back of it. He’s shirtless, with nothing but his jeans unbuttoned and hanging low on his hips, displaying his Calvin Klein briefs. It’s the first time I feel like I can see all of his tattoos. They’re mainly skulls and demonic faces of sorts, but with the numbers 2000 tattooed over his chest. My heart short circuits when I see the numbers—my numbers—the year I was born, painted into his skin with the same graffiti font he used to splash over Orson’s rock when we were kids.
I make my way farther into the room, picking up the bottle of whiskey that’s sitting on the coffee table and bringing the rim to my lips. I take a swig, running the palm of my hand down his shirt that I’m wearing. It has the words Wolf Pack MC on it, with their wolf emblem and California beneath that.
Placing the bottle back onto the table, I slide my thumb over my bottom lip, swiping away the excess liquid while taking him in again. His tight abs, the tattoos over his skin, his arms laced with muscles and bound by strength. He is everything bad. Everything that is wrong in the world comes in the package of Royce Kane, but he never opens that package near me.
Ever.
His knees are spread, his chest rising and falling in a soft rhythm. His lips are parted slightly, yet he looks peaceful. From what I can see. I know that he’s angry at me over Wicked, and I know that if he ever found out about James, he would probably cast me to the side like a used toy, but for right now, I need him. I want him in every single way that he has starved me from over the years.
Placing my legs on the outside of his, I slowly lower myself down on top of him, and he instantly stills beneath me.
“Jade.”
I press my finger to his lips. I need him.
Bringing myself down to him, I run my tongue over the rim of his lips.
His arm drops away from his face and my heart falls out of my chest. He is so fucking beautiful. His hair is messy on the top of his head, his eyes firm on me. “Duchess, we’re supposed to be siblings…”
I roll my tongue over the cut line of his sharp jaw and over the tattoos that decorate it. “Mmm, but siblings don’t know what each other tastes like.”
His body goes still beneath me, and just when I think he’s going to throw me off him, his arm hooks around my lower back, holding me hostage. His other hand comes behind my neck, clenching me roughly. He pulls my face down to his and smirks over my lips. “There’s no going back after this.”
I gulp. “I know.” I lean in to kiss him when he pulls back and picks me up from under my arms as if I weigh nothing, placing me on top of the coffee table.
He spreads my knees wide, running his hands up my inner thighs. “Shirt looks good on you.”
I sigh. “Shut up and take it off.”
“Nah, I’m leaving that on for now.” His head disappears between my thighs and my fingers find his hair. I prop myself up on my elbows, watching as his traps flex with every movement. His hands wrap around each thigh and he pulls me farther into his mouth. My head flies back as his tongue flicks over my clit.
I grind against his mouth as his tongue stays in the same place, sloppily licking me everywhere while soaking up my release. He slides his finger inside, and then another. I’m so close to release. I can’t breathe fast enough to catch up. Just as I’m near, he unlatches and runs his tongue over where my pussy meets my thighs. I yelp when his teeth sink into my skin, pushing at his shoulders. His mouth is back on me and his hands slipping under my ass, lifting me off the coffee table and standing to full height. I grip on to his hair as my thighs tighten around his neck.
