His hand instantly flies out and stops me as his other comes under my chin, tilting my face up to his. “Don’t.”
“Well, what are we doing?” I ask again, licking my lips.
His eyes drop to my mouth, and he turns around, tugging on his hair. He turns back to face me, his eyes wild. “Fuck if I know, Dove. I don’t know anymore. You—you’re.”
The red streaks around his wrist catch my eye, and I shoot up off the bed, catching his wrist before he can move it. “Blood.”
He yanks it out of my hand, and before I can say anything, his mouth is on me, and he’s pushing me back onto the bed, his body falling on top of mine. I no longer care what we are doing because whatever this is feels right. At least it does right now.
My legs widen and he sinks into me further, his head moving to the side to gain more access on my mouth. He’s heavy, and his breath is brushing over my collarbone. All of these factors contribute to the flight of butterflies that are roaring in my belly. I think of that Halsey song, where she’s saying that sometimes the warning signs feel like butterflies, but those thoughts evaporate when he grinds against me. I’m sticky from the Texas heat and from running through the forest, but on top of that, we have the alcohol and the sexual tension that has been about to snap for far too long.
My hips raise up to meet his, rubbing against his swollen crotch.
He groans, and the deep sound vibrates over my mouth, sending shockwaves all the way down to my core. Reaching for the band of his jeans, I yank them down until I can run my nails over his ass cheeks. He bites down on my lip, so hard that I can taste the familiar tang of blood taint my mouth. “You wanna do this?” he asks, though his hands are gripping for my tank. “Speak now or forever hold your fucking peace, Little Bird.”
I do what any girl would do with Kingston Axton half naked on top of them, wanting to eat you alive.
I hold my fucking peace.
He tears off my tank top with his bare hands and cups one of my breasts in his hand. His mouth lowers, and he sucks my nipple into his mouth. Warmth satiates throughout my body, tingles snarling all over my flesh.
I moan, pushing my chest into him, wanting more. Needing more. Something more. I reach down and unbutton my shorts, yanking them off and kicking them off the bed.
King stops, his breathing heavy, and his chest heaving. He slowly crawls off the bed, his eyes never moving from my body until he’s standing back where he started.
He pulls his bottom lip into his mouth as his hand dips beneath his jeans. Now the bulge that was there has doubled as he slowly moves up and down.
“Touch yourself.”
“What?” I whisper out, not wanting to touch myself. “Why, when you could do it?”
His jaw clenches. “Because I can’t have you, so I want to watch you have you.” He pulls his jeans down, and his cock springs free. My mouth waters at the sight. Tight skin around a thick shaft. There’s a piercing on the tip of his crown that goes from the top to the bottom. How did I miss that before?
“God.” My back arches off the bed like a hungry fucking lunatic.
“Touch yourself, Dovey. Show me what you do when you’re all alone.”
I chew on my bottom lip, and my eyes widen as I watch him slowly pump himself. The sight is traumatic. It’s like everything you’ve ever wanted, but being told you can’t have it.
Instead of doing what I usually do, ask too many questions, I go with it. I slide my palm over my nipples before slowly dragging them down my tight stomach. Everything is slick from both of our bodily fluids, so my hands slip and slide all over the place. When I find a spot below my belly button that’s a little more wet than others, I lean up on one elbow and see the smudge of blood.
His eyes turn to fire as they catch mine, and he watches with aching pain as I swipe my thumb through it and bring it to my mouth, sucking the blood off my thumb and making an extra effort to roll my lips over with the movement. It isn’t exactly hard, since my lips are one of the larger assets on my body.
He turns feral, and a deep growl vibrates through him. The atmosphere thickens around us, and I know I’ve hit something dark within him. Something untamed and violent. I don’t care. I want it. I want all of him. I run my hand back down my body until I’m cupping myself. I slowly sink my index finger inside of me, turning slightly, so he has the best view. Using my thumb, I rub my clit in circles and watch as he squeezes the tip of his dick.
“King,” I whisper, wanting him inside me. “I need you.”
“Fuck.” He exhales, stopping his movements. He leans forward and grabs my hand, bringing my fingers to his mouth.
He sucks me off my fingers. “Finish yourself off.” Then he pulls up his jeans and leaves me lying there, on his damn bed, unsatisfied and frustrated. He stops by his door, turning over his shoulder. “Stay the fuck there tonight.” The door slams in his retreat, and I take this time to examine his room. I’m irritated, so my eyes flash around the room quickly, taking everything in. Obscure walls, one large window, a King-sized bed, a couple dressers, and a large TV.
That’s it. The décor is simple but masculine. His heady scent of leather, spice, and honey resonates through his black cotton sheets.
I stroll to the other side of the room, snatching up the first shirt I see on the ground and pulling it over my head. I’m wondering whether I should stay here or go back to my room. Squeezing the doorframe, my frustration gets the better of me, and I back up, hitting his light switch off and sneaking back down to my little area. I notice that no one is in the RV, but I don’t care to think more of it. Right now, I just want to sleep. I can smell King all around me as I drop face-first onto my bed, and before I can register that I’m about to sleep in his shirt, my eyes are drifting closed, slipping into a deep sleep.
The next morning, I wake feeling a lot better than I deserve. Yawning, I spread my arms wide, my agitation only growing between my legs. I remember everything from last night, which doesn’t help. I’d rather I not remember him turning me down mid—whatever that was—with me spread eagle on his bed, playing with myself.
I fumble into the kitchen, finding Killian already sipping coffee with his hair ragged everywhere.
“Have a good night?” I tease, scrubbing my eyes.
“Not as good as yours apparently.” He grins from behind his mug, a smug smile on his face.
“Could have ended better,” I mumble, pouring the black java into my coffee mug, before sliding into one of the kitchen chairs. I blow into the hot liquid, enjoying the warmth that the steam provides, falling on the tip of my nose.
“You ready for tonight?” Keaton comes down next, falling beside me.
“Yes and no,” I answer honestly, taking my first sip and instantly feeling my muscles relax.
“You’ll be fine,” Keaton assures me warmly, squeezing my shoulder blades before disappearing out the front door.
“It’s so fucked up to see him be an actual human to someone who is not himself or us.”
“What do you mean?” I spin around to face Killian.
“I mean, he’s…Keaton.” Killian’s eyes then drop to my shirt, and his eyes shoot up in surprise before being replaced by his menacing smirk. “You two are fucking weird.”