Page 63 of Kings Fear No One
As rage and lust merge into a single driving force, flashbacks flicker in and out. Images I had hoped I’d scrubbed from memory. But they live on, returning in a flood. I push two fingers into Teysha’s tight heat and graze my teeth against the delicate skin of her neck. Then I’m hearing the squeak of the mattress and her sobs as I lay motionless on the floor.
I’m forced to look into her tearful eyes and urge myself to stay hard. Everybody else in the room watches, their attention rapt and unblinking. I thrust into her and feel her body quake in discomfort and pain.
My fingers sink deep in her pussy as I grip her hair and grunt about how I’m about to fuck her hard and fast. I’m going to make her sorry she ever wanted this.
But the memories won’t go away. They play one after another as I push her down on the couch and drag her hips back. My hands work to free my cock that’s hot, throbbing, and hard. I’m turned on by what’s about to happen… while also being sickened by the roiling in my stomach.
Teysha’s gone still on the couch. She’s right how I positioned her, face buried in the cushions, her curvy ass lifted high in the air. Perfect for me to spear into. For me to slip into the wet heat she offers and rut away.
The animalistic lust and rage claw at me from the inside. Urge me to do it and take what I want. Just like I’ve done in the past.
Teysha pushed for this. She refused to stop poking the bear when I warned her I wasn’t good for her. She wanted to find out the hard way, so who am I to stop now?
I’m all over the fucking place as my rough hands palm her bare ass in between stroking myself. I’m breathing raggedly, barely able to think straight. A fucking angel and demon might as well be on my shoulders the way I’m caught between what to do next.
The bruises still feel too real. Too fresh.
Her tears still shine in her eyes when I remember the recent past. What we’d gone through together and what we’d suffered.
Things that were taken from me.
Her.
A frustrated growl rumbles out of me as I rear back and stick my hands in my hair. My eyes clench shut and will the bad images to go away. All these fucking memories I wish I could forget. That I’ve wished every night never happened in the first place.
Teysha sniffles and then finally moves from where I’ve placed her. She sits up on her knees, her brows pinched close to form that soft wrinkle between them, and she reaches a cautious hand for me.
“Logan… are you…”
“Don’t touch me,” I snarl, heaving breaths beyond my control. “Don’t… just…”
I can’t even finish a damn sentence. Probably because I’ve got no damn clue what I want to say. What I’m even feeling in this fucked up moment of rage, lust, confusion, and trauma all rolled into one.
But the only certainty that emerges from the hazy cloud surrounding me is hatred. The sheer and utter contempt I’ve got for Abraham and how I want to fucking annihilate him for what he’s done to us.
You’d think Teysha would take a hint. She’d take this last get-out-of-jail free card and run far away from me. Flee into the second bedroom for the night and hope for morning where she could make another escape attempt.
She doesn’t do any of those things.
Instead, her gentle hand glides along my forearm in a soothing touch. I open my eyes to her wounded, misty ones. The same that had been so startled minutes ago when I’d told her I’d have my way with her.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she says. “I know you don’t… I know ever since he…”
She trails off there as if she can’t bear to finish what’s on her mind. The sadness in her tone, the small frown on her face, her dejected body language all speak volumes. They point to the conclusion she’s drawn from this confusing moment where we search for what to do.
But she’s got the wrong idea and doesn’t even realize she does. She couldn’t be more wrong.
It’s not that I don’t want her. Not even close.
…if you knew how much I really wanted you…
“Bed,” I husk out. “Time for bed.”
I get up off the couch, frustration corded in every tense muscle. I feel her trailing in my wake as I make it to the bedroom and rip my t-shirt over my head. She ambles over to her side of the bed, head bowed, hunks of her dark chocolatey hair blocking her face from view. Though I catch the hitched breaths and quick wipes of her eyes.
She’s crying. All because of me.
Fuck.
