Page 100 of War and his Queen

Violent tremors of my orgasm rip through me as the evidence of every dirty secret between us drips down my thighs.

His thumb circles my clit as the remnants of my rapture forge my body forward and I collapse against his chest.

When my whimpers fall into his mouth around the teasing of my tongue, his teeth snap at my bottom lip.

“Fuck,” he gasps into the kiss he doesn’t finish as his cock throbs against me.

Music lulls us back to the party, and if the thought of anyone so much as seeing him didn’t make my hand reach for my nine, my knees would hit grass to clean him up.

His chest catches my sudden fatigue as I collapse into him.

“I still win.” The bubble of laughter floating up my throat bursts his answer.

“Who said we’re done?”

Maybe it’s through the delirium of my comedown, but I don’t care who saw. Not even Priest. The only thought that orbits my brain right now is that I kind of want to do it again.

Does he like inflicting pain? Is that it? Has he always been this way? And why did the thought of me giving him what he wants fuel me enough to go another round?

Our bodies peel away from each other’s, and not even the wave of heat that throbs over the branding is enough to replace the torment weighing in my gut from the mere distance between us. After tonight, it didn’t matter. None of this mattered.

We would play.

We’d fuck.

Then we’d hurt.

I’m beginning to read the poems sewn into the literature of his carefully crafted lies.

Shuffling my skirt over my ass, my pelvic floor tightens so he doesn’t drip down my thighs.

I fail.

Leaving his belt buckle undone, he plucks a rolled blunt from the table beside him and leans to the side.

“Should we worry where everyone is?” Brushing my fingers through the front of my hair, it flows down one side when I tap on River’s name in my contacts.

“Nope.”

The smoke that was once in his lungs now clouds my vision, as my fingers find the joint he’s holding.

With ganja in one hand and my phone that’s calling River in the other, he’s dragging me back down onto his lap with the curl of his arm around my waist.

I hit the end button. “They’ve probably all run away.”

Heavy smoke fills my lungs as War catches my chin with his hand, forcing my lips down to his. As soon as our lips touch and I release billows of smoke into what’s beginning to feel like a familiar place, the flash of a camera snaps.

Fucking Stella.

The anchor of my arm that curls around his neck holds me in place, since my feet dangle so far off the ground. Monster.

His thumb taps at my chin with passive strokes as he holds my stare. The unspoken pull between us nothing but an invisible barrier.

It might be a good thing that I have tunnel vision when we’re like this, because I can’t imagine the scowl on Priest’s face right now. I’m praying he does whatever he does with his conquests and leaves me be.

Shadows draw around his face and it’s the first time since I stupidly allowed him to collar me that unease crawls up my spine.

My movements stop, eyes narrowed on his. “What are you doing?”

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