Page 82 of Wicked Vile King
I think of Willow and that spark inside of her, the one that made her fight the collar and refuse to be called mine.
She slapped me on the day we first met, when I kissed her and took what was already mine.
Then she scratched me when I broke into her room, desperate for another taste.
She's kicked, hit, and fought me nearly every step of the damn way, and that fight made today so much more enjoyable. You can't break a person if they arrive broken, and Gabe, just like Kill and me, needs that fight. Too bad none of his current legion of fans is anything but completely obedient. I don't think any of them could muster the balls to slap him even if he asked for it.
I watch him as he blows smoke rings up to the ceiling. When he's preoccupied with it, sending even halos in staggered breaths above us, I settle on my bed, laying down and crossing my hands behind my head, blinking up at the smoky ceiling.
I let myself relax for a moment. I can still smell her on me, rose petals and salt cut by the bite of chlorinated water reminding me of what we did.
Fuck me. Calm it down, Saint.
Calm. It. Down.
I am not about to go full chub in front of these two, but I'd be a liar if I said it hadn't felt amazing to be inside someone again. And I meanreallyinside of them, where I'm in their heads, permeating every thought, intruding into the only place they hold sacred until they finally break for me.
I didn't even have to imagine tearing into her ass to get my dick ready today.
Or resort to replaying torture porn inside my skull.
Or dream of fucking her cunt while she cried and begged me to stop.
Willow Cadelle is an anomaly,myanomaly.
Virgins don't normally do it for me. It's such a chore, getting them ready to be properly fucked, and I'm not the guy who's going to take it slow if it's your first time.
I have one speed.
Hard, brutal, fast.
If they bleed, good. If they scream, even better. And if they do both, fucking perfect.
She did both. She was perfect.
Fffffuuuuuuccccckkkk.I look down the line of my body at my jeans.
CALM. IT. DOWN.
My dick knew she was perfect too, the flaky bastard who runs and hides the moment shit gets stale. I don't think I've ever come as fast in my life as I did with her today. I nearly blacked out, and that'sneverhappened, not once. I'm glad she came when she did or I'm not sure I could have lived up to the threat of fucking her until she finally gave it up.
Last semester, I screwed a girl for threehourstrying to catch my release. Her back was bruised and bloody by the time we finished, and Istillhadn't come. She wasn't a challenge though. She was a chore. As I said, it's not always easy to . . .
"Told ya," Gabe says, rudely interrupting my daydreams.Wait, how long has he been talking?"Fucker's a goner."
"What?" I ask, blinking up and over my flatter-than-a-tortilla pillow at him.
Kill rolls his eyes and throws another bill at Gabe's face, who's too busy laughing to catch it this time.
"What was that about?" I ask, reaching up behind me and stretching to steal the cigarette from Gabe. I bring it to my lips and take a drag before blowing smoke circles into the air just like he did, our favorite party trick. Or it used to be at least, when we still cared about impressing girls with party tricks.
"Gabe said you'd go full-blown obsession within ten minutes of getting back," Kill answers.
"Winner, winner, chicken dinner!" Gabe calls, scraping the bill off the floor and pocketing the money.
"Whatever," I say.
The bastards know the steps, and they can give me shit all they want, but they know the fucking steps. They live and die by them the same as me.
