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“Use your hands,” Sade commands. “Spread your ass cheeks for me, give me a good view of what I’m fucking, or I’m gonna spank you again. And this time, I’ll make it hurt.”
I scramble for balance on my spread legs, but I reach behind me, my red corset barely still clinging to my tits as I grab my buttocks and pull them apart for him.
“That’s it,” he purrs darkly and pounds me harder, his knuckles hitting my cheeks. The movement bounces me forward, the lips of my pussy spreading on his jeans, exposing my clit to the friction. The fabric is deliciously rough on my creamed flesh, and my eyes roll back as an orgasm pools in my core, becoming imminent.
“I’m not going to wash these jeans,” he says, his breathing shallower. Damn, he’s horny too, and I’m the one doing this to him. “They’re gonna be smelling of your pussy in the drawer of my bedside table. Right next to my gun, which I’ll be using on any guy you ever give yourself to. Right after I skin him alive.” He says this loud enough for Dean and the other Kings to hear it. “From now on, you’re only mine, Justine Pracht, you hear me? Anyone touches you until I’m done ruining you, and I’m gonna make Michael Myers look like a fucking Disney prince for them.”
His words, his voice, this whole scenario, it drives me over the edge. A long moan leaves my lips as I come all over his thigh while I hold my ass open for his finger to ravage it.
“Ah, fuck,” he cusses under his breath, and I can feel him clenching under me. I look over my shoulder to see he’s got his dick out, gripped in the same fist in which he’s holding his leather belt, cum spreading over his bruised knuckles.
I lick my lips, eyes locked on the most impressive piece of masculinity I’ve ever seen. If Dean fucked me raw, I don’t want to imagine what Sade can do with that barbarous erection. The head is wide, glistening with power, and I’d surely choke on it if he shoved it down my throat. I never fantasized about sucking dick before, but I’m licking my lips now.
Sade must notice it because ravenous hunger takes over his expression.
He grabs my hair and tugs me back against him, my back knocking into his chest. His pecs are rock-hard under his white linen shirt. Our eyes meet for a moment, and then our lips collide.
Sade Royales just made me come all over his thigh, and now his lips are taking over mine like he’s sealing a contract of ownership. My head is spinning, my cheeks burning, sweat covering me all over. Lingering pleasure sends convulsions through my body, and he seems to enjoy that, groaning in my mouth. Damn, I want to melt into him.
But he rips himself away, lifting me off him and putting me back on wobbly feet.
He turns to the others, his voice gruff as he says, “Eight minutes. Pay up.” The moment we shared just before dissolves into thin air.
With groans of dissatisfaction, Carlton and Dogg reach for their phones to transfer the money.
When Sade looks down at me again, the sunset in his eyes is deeply bloody. It gives me the chills, driving me to rub my arms and make myself even smaller than I already am compared to him. Sade is all bulging muscles, snake tattoos, and deeds to back up that mean scar running down his face. His features, if you look closely, are breathtakingly handsome, but there’s a set to that strong, square jaw that speaks about a core of steel. Many whisper about his anger issues but in all the time I’ve been living under the same roof as him, I’ve never seen him lose his cool. Still, his knuckles are always bruised, and word has it he doesn’t waste his rage on punching bags. He goes directly for walls.
That’s the thing about Sade Royales–he’s always been a mystery. The snakes tattooed on his body are a perfect metaphor for his nature. Insidious, unpredictable. Those russet eyes drip with the ability to mastermind and execute a crime and get away with it, too.
On campus, no one would dare get in a fight with him. Not after the business last Christmas with the Ethics professor who’d blackmailed a scholarship student with an inconsequential last name to suck him off in his car. One punch to the face from Sade, and his retina came off. One blow to his body, and his kidney ruptured. Some say he’s still recovering after that altercation, not to mention that he lost his license to teach again. Mel heard from what she calls ‘secure sources’ that Sade hung a criminal record on the guy.
Which isn’t surprising. The Kings are dangerously well-connected. Sade can destroy a man’s life with a snap of his fingers, so no wonder that Dean pissed himself tonight. Some people say they’d prefer having a terminal disease than to be on the radar of a Heathen King.
At a wave of Sade’s hand, the other Kings take Dean away while Sade cleans his hands on tissues one of the other guys, the lesser rich boys, quickly put at his disposal. Then he looks down at his phone, his fingers moving smoothly over the display.
“The money is in your account. A hundred grand. Get yourself something pretty.” He gives me a once-over. “I suggest some clothing that actually covers you, for starters. And be ready for me to call on you again. Until then.” His fingers expertly undo the buttons of his linen shirt, and he shuffles out of it. I swallow back a gasp, my shoulders rising to my ears. If my cheeks were already hot, they feel like they’re bursting out in flames now.
His body is corded with muscle. The kind of body forged in harsh wintry mountains, a body that was made to suffer through grueling training from a very young age. Now, it’s a mirror of his strength and discipline, dark snakes coiling up over his vigorous shoulders and coming to face each other over his chest.
His linen shirt falls over my shoulders, shielding me from the stares all around us. The music is still pounding, but not as loud as it did while I danced with Dean and, as much as people try to make it look like they’re going about their business, both Sade and I know they’re all the way up in ours.
They didn’t see me act like a wanton in heat, rubbing myself on his leg and opening up my ass for him, but theyknow. And those who didn’t hear him say loud and clear that I belonged to him, they heard it whispered from the others. News always travels like wildfire at these parties. I don’t even want to think about all the variants of this story that are going to pop up tomorrow, like mushrooms after the rain.
“I have no problem with you dressing like a slut for me,” he says. “But make sure no other guy sees you like this again. You wouldn’t want a slew of tragedies happening on campus, would you?” He pins me to the spot with those reddish eyes. “Because they would be on you.”
There’s a quiet ache in my ass, and my pussy clenches with a pang of need. I shove the feeling back down, sinking my teeth hard into my lower lip. No, I can’t be so twisted in the head to be enjoying this. I write poetry, for Christ’s sake.
“I don’t want your fucking money. And I sure as hell won’t do what you tell me to.” I step into him, my chin up, but he doesn’t budge an inch. He just stares down at me, slightly amused. Being so small compared to him that my chin barely reaches his mean-muscled chest doesn’t exactly work in my favor. But I can’t back down now, not if I want to save some face.
“This was fun, Sade, but it doesn’t mean you get to own me. I’m my own woman. I sure as hell didn’t come this far, getting into one of the most elite colleges in the country, to find a master who treats me like trash. So guess what? I’m not for sale. What happened with Dean, it was–” I lick my lips, the jagged pill of Dean’s betrayal still sticking in my throat. “It was a misunderstanding.”
“You mean he didn’t pay for your V-card?”
My throat works, the truth making it hard to reply. That issue is more complicated. Dean did transfer me the money, and if Sade looks, which I know he can do because hacking into a normal citizen’s bank account is children’s play for a King, he’ll see it. But it was for something completely different.
Dean needed to pass the money through my account to send to his estranged mother, he said. He needed to make sure the transfer couldn’t be easily traced back to him because his father would have disowned him. The money is no longer in my account but it did make a stop there.
“As I said, it’s a misunderstanding,” I repeat quietly.
