Page 26 of Making the King

Pain flares to life, nearly blinding me as it feels like he’s ripping my vagina apart. My eyes water, and I bite down on my hand to stop my whimpers from escaping.

Shit, this really hurts.

Rocco’s lids fly open, and he gasps my name.

Despite the need to get away from him, I force myself to move up and down.

“What are you doing?” he rasps, but I ignore him.

The pain doesn’t matter, only that I lose my virginity. Which I guess I’ve technically done now. I can’t believe how much it hurts. Every move makes it feel like my insides are being stabbed.

I’m so focused on the task at hand that I don’t notice Rocco’s hands on my hips at first.

“Don’t touch me,” I hiss, slapping his hands away.

“W-what?”

He looks so confused I almost feel bad for him.

“This isn’t what you think,” I admit. “I… we… this had to be done.”

“Had to be done?” Rocco echoes. “If you wanted me, all you had to do was say so.” His voice is husky with remnants of sleep.

When he tries to touch me again, I leap off him and the bed. That’s when I see it, the blood coating his hard dick.

Fuck.

Rocco looks down at himself, and I want to shrink under the death glare he sends my way when he notices the blood.

“What the fuck did you do?” he roars, sitting up.

I startle, and a part of me wants to cower and beg for his forgiveness. That’s when the perfect excuse hits me.

“You had to be punished!” I shout back. “I told you I’d get you, and now I have.”

Rocco

Cara has been outside under the cold shower for way too long. I need her to get the fuck back inside so I can find out why the fuck she did that. Why would she tell me she wasn’t a virgin if she was, and then impale herself on me while I was sleeping?

That’s not how she should have lost her virginity, and fuck, perhaps she shouldn’t have lost it to me, but here we fucking are. Even though I didn’t come inside her, I’ve never been happier to know she’s on birth control. I think the record Baz and Dante showed me said something about hormone control or some shit like that.

Inside my bathroom, I kick off my boxers and sit my junk in the sink, quickly washing Cara’s blood off. My cock is a bit raw. She was barely wet which is why I was so fucking confused about what she was doing when I woke up. She literally impaled herself. She wasn’t ready, and even though I was hard, neither was I. Why the fuck didn’t she let me touch her? I could have worked over her clit and made her slick for me in seconds, but instead, she slapped my hands away.

Fuck, I have no idea what’s going through her head, something that I need to fucking resolve now. I’ll shower later when I’ve had a fucking discussion with my wife.

A knock at the front door of my house makes me still, and I check the time on my watch. It’s only 8am. Who the fuck is here at this time of day?

Remembering we had a prowler last night, I quickly shuck on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and snatch up my gun as I hurry to the door.

“Who is it?” I snap, my gun pointed at the timber separating us.

“Officer Dudley,” the gruff male voice says. “I’m Mrs. King’s parole officer.”

I relax momentarily until I realize what this means.

Shit. The parole board believes this to be a real marriage. They stated that they will visit to confirm we are actually living as a married couple, as I am now responsible for Cara during her parole term.

We are definitely married. Just not happily or with Cara’s consent.

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