Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“Fuck, yeah, Sunshine,” he murmurs.
The pleasure in his voice and the happiness I hear are hard to describe. I can’t even try. Then his lips are coming down against mine and any thought I have flees. They press gently. His lips were somehow soft, slick, and safe. They feel safe. It’s as if my body already knew that King would never hurt me. I’m not sure how I got here. I didn’t think I’d ever want to be next to a man again. I never thought I’d want to kiss someone. Then again, King is not some man. He’s King, and all that goes into making him is a lot and it speaks to me.
His tongue slides around my lip, and I open my mouth. It’s not a lot at first, just a fraction of what is needed, but it’s a big step for me. Still, King doesn’t push for more. He nibbles on the bottom of my lip, ever so gently, letting his tongue slide behind to soothe the gentle tug of his teeth. It feels good. Sweet. Clean. I open a little more and then his tongue slides inside deeper. He is careful, so very careful. I didn’t know he could be so gentle. I’d never kissed him before—unless you count our one closed-mouth lip touch. Still, I am sure this isn’t a normal King kiss. He’s so positive and confident in everything he does. I know he is being cautious because of me. Because of my past. So, as good as this feels—and it feels amazing—it also feels wrong. I wanted King to kiss me to prove I could find some part of me that is normal enough to give him something good. I didn’t think I had any good in me. I’ve been trying to find it, convincing myself I could be good for my child—and I would be. Yet I didn’t like myself. I didn’t, and I was pretty sure I’d never like myself. But if I could be good for my child, surely, I could do and be the same for King. However, if he can’t kiss me without worrying he’s going to break me, it will never work.
That was my thinking as I slid my tongue out, finding his and inviting it to play. He groans in my mouth and as I swallow the sound down, I can’t think of anything in my life that felt better than that. Not one blessed thing. None of the times with Dom—which had been magical the first couple of times, but died after he began giving other women what was supposed to be mine. Not with T—which had been selfish on my side, sweet on his, but not anything close to emotional. The plain, simple truth is that nothing compares to just kissing King and swallowing down the sound of his pleasure. Not. A. Damn. Thing.
Of their own free will, my hands slide under his T-shirt, needing to touch him. The heat from his body seeps into my bones, and now it’s me who moans. The kiss deepens and I lose myself in the touch, the feel, the taste of him.
Then, it happens.
His hand comes up, roughly grabbing my neck as he growls into my mouth. Logically, I know that he’s losing himself to the beauty that we are creating. I even want more of what he’s doing. But just the feel of him holding the side and back of my neck in his strong hand—a hand that could kill easily because he’s so much bigger than me—and my mind plays flashbacks of that pig behind me, his hand around my throat, choking me, making it so no one could hear me scream, as he forced me to take his cock. I felt it all again in that instant. The ripping of my flesh, the tearing away of pieces of me I would never get back, the fear as the world was going black around me. It all lands on me like a grenade, obliterating me all over again, as I tear my mouth away from King.
“Can’t breathe,” I gasp, pushing against his stomach, my body trembling.
“Fuck, I’m sorry, Gabby,” King groans, immediately rolling away from me.
He gets up off the bed and is gone. Over the roar of my heartbeat slamming erratically against my chest and drumming in my ears, I hear him jogging through the hall. With shaky hands, I reach over and turn on the bedside light. I stare at it, thinking it’s the ugliest light I’ve ever seen. Dani brought it with the nightstands. It’s a hideous orange color and not even that cool retro-vibe orange. This looks like a rusty type of orange. Still, it was sleek, had a nice base you could charge your phone on without an extra plug. It is designed so that the bulb is recessed inside the metal umbrella and that is connected to a long black arm, so that you can angle the light in any direction. I am going to buy some spray paint and paint the both of them—there is a matching one on the other nightstand—a glossy charcoal gray or maybe black.