Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 50653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
“Well…you’re a King, and I’m—”
“What?” He’s so close, a shiver races over my body.
“I’m here to kill you, not fuck you.” I sound pathetic. We both know it.
“And you haven’t done either.” He lets out a husky growl as he swipes his hand between my spread legs. My eyes close, my mind warring against my body wanting to surrender to the feeling.
“So much talk, Rogue, yet you’re soaked for me.” His chuckle pisses me off and turns me on at the same time. Bastard.
“Daddy was being quite the charmer before I came in here.” His fingers brush my clit, and a gasp falls from my lips, a plea sitting on the tip of my tongue.
“You could be covered head to toe in Devil tattoos and I’d still fucking want you. Still ache to taste you.”
Flames lick over my skin. My hands twitch. The urge to force his fingers to keep moving over me is overwhelming. “Just like you ache to taste me,” he groans.
I do. It’s becoming a sickness. I’m burning with fever.
He tilts my chin, the pad of his thumb brushing against my bottom lip. “I want to feel these fat pink lips around my cock while I fuck your throat until your tears stream down your cheeks and your eyes beg me to let you breathe.”
My lips tremble as I try to suck in oxygen. The frantic beating of my heart roars in my ears. “Take you to the edge and fill your pussy up until you can’t take another inch of me.”
“Callan.” I gulp. My clit throbs. My nipples ache.
“I want your throat raw from screaming my name—your pussy swollen and sore from taking my cock, fingers, and lips until you come over and over.”
“Use me.” It’s a whimper, an imploration. My core is on fire. I’m sick of fighting the fear.
“What?” His brows pinch, like he isn’t sure he heard me right.
“Use me,” I say, my voice stronger. I drag my teeth over my lip. Saliva floods my mouth. I drop my leg and lower to my knees. A hiss passes his lips. “Fuck my mouth like you own it, Callan. Make yourself come inside me. Show me what you’re made off.”
“Shit.” He’s practically vibrating. “You want to be my little fuck slut?”
“Yes,” I pant. My hands tear at his jeans, and I free his cock, inhaling his scent. He fists my hair, raising my eyes to meet him. “Are you a hungry little slut?”
“Famished.” I lick my top lip. He grasps his cock and paints my lip with the pre-cum glistening there.
“Open your mouth, Rogue. Suck my dick.” I wrap my lips around his bulging head and glide my mouth lower, sucking, slurping, devouring. He pushes me farther down his shaft, controlling my movements. “How much can you take?” His voice sounds strained, his eyes glassy.
All of it. I gag as the tip of his cock touches the back of my throat. Tears prick my eyes, spurring him on. He slides his cock out, then urges me down his entire length. Spit slavers around my mouth, coating his cock as he fucks my face.
Gathering the rest of my hair, he creates a ponytail with his fist. “Look how perfect you are.” He grunts, bucking his hips forward. Tears stream my face, and I can’t get enough. I hollow my cheeks and moan around him until he stills in the back of my throat and warm cum spurts down my gullet. He drags his cock across my tongue as he pulls free. His cum, both sweet and bitter, coats my lips.
“Get on the bed, Rogue.”
Our breath comes in pants. “How do you want me?” I ask, pulling my top over my head and standing utterly bare before him. This is it, no going back. It will change everything.
“On your back, legs splayed. Let me look at you.”
My legs barely have the strength to carry me the couple feet to his bed. I crawl over the comforter and roll to my back, planting my feet, my legs bent at the knees.
“Spread those legs for me, Rogue.”
I shift my feet wider apart.
“More,” he demands, aggressive possession thickening his tone.
I drop my knees hesitantly, opening myself to his mercy. It doesn’t matter which club we belong to or what led us to this moment. My body and mind are finally in sync, accepting the only truth that matters right now: we both fucking want this.
“You’re not a Devil or a King.” He kneels on the bed, grips under my thighs, and jerks me down the mattress toward him. “You’re a queen.” He kisses his way up my calf, knee, and thigh.
“Does that make you my King?”
“No, baby, it makes me the lucky bastard who gets to worship at your throne.” His teeth bite down where my tattoo paints my skin, and the rush of pain drugs my blood.