I almost put an end to this shit show by grabbing Katie’s ass, pulling her against me, and finishing what I’d started. It was time for Captain Cockblock to get the message. She was mine.
I wasn’t jealous. Jealousy implied that I wanted something that I didn’t have. Katie belonged to me now. That made me territorial. And I would fuck him up to protect what was mine.
“I’m fine, Keaton. Thank you…” She trailed off, clearing her throat.
“Clearly,” he said, his voice stone cold. “If you need anything, call me.”
“I will,” she replied, and I wanted to smash her phone beneath my thousand-dollar shoe to make sure she would never call him ever again.
He walked out, closing the door behind him, and she was in my face in a second. “Is that why you call me that? Little sheep? Because you’re the wolf in this story?”
She had no fucking idea. I took a deep breath to calm the raging storm inside me, noticing the rain outside the window had finally started to ease up. I inched closer to her, tilting my head to one side. “All these books and you haven’t met the Big Bad Wolf?” She swallowed hard as a visible shiver racked her body. “He’s the one who hears you better.” I took a step closer. “He sees you better.” Closer. “He eats you better.” I grabbed her hip, gripping her hard, and she sucked in a breath. I ran my lips over the shell of her ear, closing my eyes and inhaling her sweet scent. “I’m going to devour you, little sheep. And you’re going to fucking love it.”
I liked being the lion, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the hell out of being the wolf.
Seventeen
Logic no longer existed. At least not when Sutton was touching me. There was nothing but a craving, a longing to unbutton his expensive dress shirt and explore his body, to reach my hand inside his designer pants and feel the smooth steel of his erection in my palm.
He said he would devour me, and I believed him. Which was why I had to go. I needed to leave before he swallowed me whole. The wind died down and the rain slowed to a lazy drizzle, and I headed for the door. No explanation. No apology. I just… left. Too many emotions emerging at once, unraveling knots that had been twisted up inside me for months, leaving me too open, too vulnerable. He frustrated me, terrified me, and undid me all at once, and I almost let him go too far.
Sutton wanted to know why I hated the king. Why it mattered so much to him was anyone’s guess, but I told him anyway. I tore open the wound and let him watch me bleed. He didn’t know it yet, but next time it would be his turn to tell the truth.
Keaton would probably never speak to me again, but I refused to chase him. This time I let him go. There was no explanation I could have offered him that would’ve made things any better.
The memory of Sutton’s touch clung to my skin. I tried a hot shower and humming myself to sleep. Nothing soothed the burning ache. What would his thick thighs feel like stretched between mine? Would his bare chest glisten with sweat as he pumped into me? How would he feel naked and pressed against my breasts?
Screw it. I fumbled in the drawer of my nightstand until I found the Magic Wand. With a twist of my wrist the vibrator came to life. My hand slid beneath the covers, between my breasts and across my stomach, then between my thighs. I slid my pajama bottoms over my hips and spread my legs wide, rubbing the tip of the wand back and forth on my swollen nub. No panties. I never slept with panties. Tingles sparked a blistering fire in my lower belly. I saw his face. Heard his voice. Felt him touching me.
“I’m going to devour you, little sheep. And you’re going to fucking love it.”
I slid the wand between my slick folds and moaned. The steady pulse did wicked things to my body. Another glide over my sensitive flesh then I slid it inside. Oh God.
“If I slipped my fingers inside, would I find you wet for me?”
“Yes,” I breathed even though no one was here to listen.
My hips began their slow dance, rocking against the vibrator, greedy for more but never getting enough. My other hand clenched the sheets, squeezed my breasts, pinched my nipples. More. I wanted more, needed more.
“No one is me, Katie. No one.”
My breath burst out in loud pants as my core throbbed with intense need.
“You can fight this all you want, little sheep. But I’m going to fuck you. With my fingers, with my mouth, with my cock. I want to fill you from the inside out, to bury myself so deep inside that all you feel is me.”
Pleasure built up inside me like the rolling waves crashing against the shore outside my window. I closed my eyes and arched back, letting it take me over.
“Say my fucking name.”
I came with a cry. “Sutton.”
Even after the waves consumed me, I still felt empty. I still wanted more. This time his words and his touch broke me in a completely different way than they had before. I didn’t know what was worse—the fear of drowning in him or dying of thirst.
Sunlight streamed in through my bedroom window, making last night’s storm seem an eternity away. All night, I dreamed of Sutton and his filthy words and the way he kissed me like he was punishing me—punishing us both—for not having the strength to say no. I read somewhere that chocolate was a good substitute for sex. Maybe I just needed chocolate, and this whole fiery need would disappear. Unfortunately, that was the one thing I hadn’t thought of stocking my kitchen with.
I walked through the South Garden toward the castle, watching the flowers open up to receive the morning sun and listening to the birds sing. The day’s warmth wiped away any lingering evidence of the fallen rain as though Mother Nature was sticking her tongue out at me and telling me there really was life after the storm.
Madeline twirled around the castle kitchen in her usual chipper morning fashion. Her navy-blue dress swished as she went. Mrs. Fletcher whisked batter in a stainless-steel mixing bowl, stopping long enough to toss in a handful of blueberries. The kitchen smelled like a French café. Melted butter, fresh pastries, and coffee brewing. Much better than the tiny kitchen in my villa.
I brushed past a humming Madeline to grab a bowl from one of the cabinets. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” she sang.
Who was she calling sleepyhead? It was seven a.m.
“Don’t poke the bear before she’s had her coffee,” I replied as I grabbed a throwaway cup from one of the cabinets. God forbid a commoner drink from a royal coffee mug. I was lucky to even be drinking from the same pot.
She faked a pout. “Aww, did you not get enough sleep last night?” She waggled her eyebrows then cracked a wide smile. “Someone keeping you up too late?”
The scent of a fresh brew wrapped around me as I poured my first cup of coffee. I cut her a sideways glance, then let the first sip warm my throat. I liked my coffee the way I liked my life—simple. No sugary syrups or milky creamers.
Mrs. Fletcher looked up from pouring blueberry batter into a muffin pan. “Manners, Madeline. That’s not our business.” A knowing smile brightened her eyes.
Oh geez. Were there no secrets in this place?
I mentally laughed at the thought. There were tons of secrets in this place.
“Thank you, Mrs. Fletcher.” I bumped Madeline’s hip with mine as I walked past her again. “And for the record, no one is keeping me up at night.”