Page 68 of Making the King

“Hold on to my shoulders.”

My hands are barely clasped around the muscles before he hoists my leg up, and angles his cock against my drenched opening.

“Eyes on me,” he implores.

His eyes are darker than normal, lust making them almost clouded. I feel as though his irises are seeing beyond the flesh and bone, seeing my soul.

“Don’t close your eyes,” he groans as he thrusts into me. “Keep looking at me.”

Every time he pistons his hips it becomes increasingly harder to keep my gaze on him, but I refuse to budge. Even as my orgasm builds, I don’t waver. But as I come around him, my pussy squeezing his dick like a vise, my eyes flutter closed.

Rocco pounds into me once, twice, and on the third thrust he roars his release.

I sag against him, feeling beyond spent. Yawning, I move my arms around his neck and kiss him above his heart.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

“What for?”

I’m not sure I can put it into words, so I just say, “Everything.” I take a deep breath, loving the way his smell lingers in my nostrils. “For trusting me. For helping me, and… just for everything.”

How the hell can I ever thank him for everything he’s done for me? It’s too much to put into words. The Rocco I’m getting to know is the most amazing guy, one I could maybe see myself being married to for longer than I have to be.

We rinse off in the shower, and I watch regretfully as the bathwater disappears down the drain. I did actually want a bath, but that will have to wait until tomorrow. I’m too tired now.

Afterward, Rocco wraps one of his beach towels around me while placing two on the tiled floor. It’s such a small gesture, yet it speaks volumes.

As we get into bed, I wonder if the Rocco I know is the same man everyone else sees. Somehow I doubt that they know how he looks when he’s vulnerable, or how much he actually allows me to get away with.

Though I can’t claim to know much about the guy the others know, I’ve heard enough to know they respect him, and some even fear him. As I drift off to sleep in his arms, my brain struggles to connect the two. My Rocco, and the world’s Rocco are two very different people.

A smile plays on my lips at the thought that I have a version that’s just mine, because I think the same can be said about me. Despite fighting him as much as I do, I’ve also opened up about things I thought I’d take with me to the grave.

Rocco

Something has shifted inside me over the past few weeks since Cara and I opened up to each other, both emotionally and physically. Cara has turned my life upside down. In a good fucking way. I’d never thought much about actually having a wife other than doing my duty to protect her. But now, it’s so much more. She’s so much more, and in turn, she’s made me so much more.

“Make sure your phone is off or on silent, Killer.” I remind her, watching her nod and quickly un-pocketing the phone I got her last week so we can communicate when we are apart. She powers it down, shooting me a sinful fucking wink before hiding it away again.

Fuck. She’s still affected by our fuck session, and if I’m being honest, so am I. It’s hard to switch my mind off to the way she’s evolved in the bedroom. She’s more assertive. Dominant. Which can be tricky since I’m that way too, but we’ve worked out a rhythm. Sometimes I make her yield and submit to me, and I make fucking sure she enjoys it, and other times she doesn’t back down, so I know it’s my turn to let go and give her the control.

Like when I let her slip her fingers into my ass. That takes a lot of fucking effort for me to let go. There’s always a moment of panic, but the flashbacks are getting less, and my killer always ensures it feels so good I forget my fucking name.

I made sure we had the opportunity to get lost in each other before we came out on this job tonight. It’s going to be a tough one, but I promised her I’d show her what it is we do, aside from run a fucking strip club.

I hope she realizes that when I purchased her, I was actually trying to save her, and maybe after she sees for herself the kind of things we do she might understand that I, we, the Diamond Crew, are the good guys. Or at least, the better of the evils.

Aside from being fucking proud of the vigilante work we do, I’ve seen into Cara’s soul. She’s strong. Badass. And she’s protective. Just like me. So this world we live in is now her world, and I know if she sees what we do, that she’ll want to help. Want to be a part of it.

“Ready to get this party started?” Cain asks as he swaggers up like we aren’t about to step into a vile, crude scene.

To be fair, he’s probably not thinking about anything but the part where he gets to kill.

Woods Lagoon is dotted with moored boats that look like they are floating on a sea of black. There is no moon tonight, which helps us stay out of sight, but also means we can’t see shit.

Munroe, an ex-marine, is the only one wearing night vision goggles, and he quietly breaks open the gate that is meant to provide security for the dock.

“You ready, Killer?” I whisper, tugging her to my chest, and she nods frantically, her eyes wide with excitement to see what it is we do.

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