King (King, #1)

by T.M. Frazier

I passed him the cigarette, and he inhaled deeply. He then spent the next five minutes choking. I put the cigarette out on the sole of my sneaker while his face turned a weird shade of purple before going back to pale smeared with freckles and blood. “That’s really fucking good, but I’m a menthol man myself.” A burst of laughter escaped me, and I bent over, hugging myself at the waist.

“My hobby?” He smiled and wiped his nose, which had just started dripping blood again, a single drop fell to the page and splattered on stick figure Preppy.

Why does this feel like a foreshadow of sorts ...

“Well you are partially right. Because when it comes to me and mine, I am the judge. I am the jury. And if need be, I am the motherfucking executioner.”

Or fuck you. Fuck us both? Weirdest fucking threesome ever. I laughed manically into the mud, accidentally sucking some into my mouth. I coughed and gagged until it dislodged from my throat, spitting onto the ground. I’ll try harder. I promise. I can survive…for you.

Cracking upp

My brain may not have been on board with the idea, but my body reacted to his every touch like it was made to be pleasured by him, like it couldn’t get enough. Like I was going to wither away and die without him inside me. I liked him on top of me. Touching me. Wanting me. No. I didn’t like it. I loved it. I loved sleeping with his big body next to me. I loved the way he made me feel so small. I loved the way his nostrils flared when he was about to kiss me, and then when he did, I loved that he kissed me like he was mad at me. Like it was my fault I was so desirable that he just had to put his lips to mine, his hands on me.

An all-encompassing kiss. A possession. He wasn’t kissing my mouth. He was claiming me as his, and I was going to leave my mark on him in every way I could.