King (Alliance, #2)

by S.J. Tilly

Inhaling from my chest, I fill my lungs with the scent of my own soap and… pussy. My pretty little soon-to-be wife left her panties in here, and they smell like my fucking soap and her sweet pussy.

Leave. It’s time to fucking leave. Another breath, and my cock throbs. I reach down with my free hand to undo my pants. But one hand doesn’t do it, so I put the panties in my mouth, biting down on the material, and get my pants down and off, then kick them away.

I let go of my dick and pull the panties from my mouth, bringing them to my nose for one last inhale, then I wrap them around my straining dick. The friction is just right. Just harsh enough on my sensitive skin. My fingers squeeze my balls once more, then slide up to hold the base of my cock and keep it steady as I rub Savannah’s scent up and down my length. This is depraved. Fucked up. Disgusting. But that doesn’t stop me from closing my eyes and picturing the woman currently asleep in my bed on her back while I bury my face between her legs. Tasting her at the source.

He looks back down at his phone, then back up at me. “Ordained.” His eyes are wide. “You, what? Want me to fucking marry you?” “To Savannah, yes.” He stares at me for another beat, then throws his head back and laughs. I let him have his humor for a few seconds. “You’ll do it?” Nero shakes his head. “You’re fucking crazy. But yeah, sure. What the hell, I’ll play priest and marry you.”

Marrying King to this hellcat will be my fucking pleasure.

“I won’t force myself inside you, Savannah Baby. But I am dying to come all over those pretty tits, so don’t fucking tempt me.” Oh holy hell. My pussy clenches at the image his words conjure.

“Do you, King Bartholomew Vass, agree to take Savannah Jane Oates as your reluctant wife? In sickness and in health. In rich and richer times. Do you promise to be a faithful captor for as long as you both shall live?” “I do.” King’s words surround me. “And do you, Savannah Jane Oates, take King Bartholomew Vass to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to be cooperative and faithful? To be the best wife you can be? To not slit King’s throat while he sleeps?”

“Don’t be a dick,” King says to Nero as he straightens his clothes. “That’s Preacher Dick.” Nero grins.

“But if you ever look at my wife like that again, I’ll remove your eyeballs from your skull.” He pauses. “Understand?”

I drop my hands. “I’m not cooking for you.” The man rolls his eyes at me. “I have a cook. And pretty sure I’m smart enough not to eat anything you make me.” He takes a step back, Duke moving with his steps. “The vows only covered slit throats. Not poisoning.”

Because I’ve always wanted to call someone Baby. Because your pretty eyes call to something inside me. Because you fucking belong to me, and I’ll call you whatever the hell I want. “Because I want to.” She nods, like I gave her a real answer.

“How’d you get Payton to sleep with you?” I ask, not caring how stupid it sounds. He goes back to drumming his fucking fingers on my dashboard, probably leaving his grubby fingerprints behind. “Well, for starters, I didn’t kidnap her.” “I’m being serious.” “So am I,” he replies, and I swear I hear the unsaid dumbass at the end of his sentence.

And he ripped my leggings like they were paper. My pussy clenches at the memory, sending a shock through my body as I’m reminded of the fact that King is still buried inside me. “Nuh-uh,” King mumbles against my temple. “One is all you get right now. I’m still mad at you.”

“Honey.” He cups my chin, keeping my eyes on his. “I’ll tell everyone about your art because I’m fucking proud of you.”

“I don’t deserve her.” Nero laughs. Like the bastard he is, he laughs. “No shit, you don’t deserve her. King, she’s a woman. We don’t deserve any of them.”