Page 8 of King: Darker Than Romance

The ecstasy on her face had me imagining switching places with her. My hand went to my throat. I gripped it. I felt envious and aroused. I was more turned on than ever before. Involuntarily, I moved closer so I could get a better look. They were in the shadows and I couldn’t see King clearly. For some unexplained reason I desperately needed to.

Seeing his body nude for the first time made me realize that he wasn’t as thin as I’d thought. His clothes hid tight lean muscle. He had one of those swimsuits model’s bodies and his tats were mesmerizing. He was fucking gorgeous, and I hadn’t noticed. Or maybe he had just matured. The gages and tongue ring were gone, so were the glasses that used to hide his dark eyes.

I don’t know if he heard me or saw me, but he chose the moment I finally came to my senses and was backing out of the room to look up. The weight of his stare froze me in place. I couldn’t have moved even if someone had had a gun to my head.

His face was blank, but his eyes were alive. He continued fucking her and holding me captive without missing a beat. I held my breath praying that the girl didn’t turn and see me too. As if he’d read my mind, he pushed her head further down, and her long red hair further obscured her vision.

The next thing that happened blew my mind and put me on the road of destruction. He pulled out of her, used his fingers to continue to fuck her while he removed the condom he’d been wearing, He spit in his hand and watched me while he pumped his fat hard cock. He stroked his long shaft from top to bottom. Pre-cum oozed from the tip.

I was breathless. My breasts throbbed for attention. It took everything in me not to pull my tits out and play with them for him like I did for Ellis. I wanted to be the reason he came. I wanted him to make me cum. My pussy ached like it had never done before. I fisted my hand into the small silk camisole I was wearing to restrain myself. His eyes fell to my exposed cleavage. They lingered a while before coming back to my face.

I bit my lip so hard I almost drew blood when he threw his head back. “Fuck,” he cursed and groaned. He came shooting cum all over the girl’s ass. The sounds he made while cumming made my entire body ache. My mouth watered. I imagined tracing the thick, prominent vein on his cock with my tongue. I wondered what he would taste like. I exhaled slowly, setting free a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

We watched each other for what felt like hours. The predatory look in his eyes both scared and excited me. He mouthed “go.” I turned and ran.

Watching him fuck that girl had fed something in me. I had always been sexual. I’d watch porn and played with my pussy. I’d been finger fucked and had my titties sucked to orgasm, gave blow jobs, but nothing had ever felt as exhilarating as watching King though. I wanted that rush again, or maybe I wanted King. I didn’t exacty know. But couldn't find out right away. King ignored me for the next two weeks. No matter how much I tried to get his attention he ignored me. I was used to being ignored, but him doing it bothered me. My desire for him turned into this weird obsession.

I started watching him, waiting for my chance to catch him vulnerable again.

One night when he came home, I waited until I heard the bathroom door in the hall close, then I snuck to his room.

My body was wired, filled with nervousness and excitement as I stripped naked while he was in the shower. I crawled into his bed. It smelled like him, like sandalwood and Newport’s. The scent of him and the adrenaline coursing through my veins made me so wet.

I laid back, pinched and rubbed my nipples until they were tight and aching. I cupped them, massaged them and imagined it was King until I could no longer help myself. I needed to touch my clit. I spread my thighs, slid my fingers between my already wet folds. “Ooh,” I moaned softly, grazing my hard bud. I closed my eyes and let my mind drift back to that night. I could vividly see King lazily and languidly stroking his stiff cock. I slipped two slick fingers into my tight opening, undulating my hips.

A sharp inhalation of breath caused my eyes to pop open. King was at his bedroom door watching me. His eyes were ablaze and centered directly on my pussy.

“Show me,” I said softly. “Do what you did before.” I wanted him to touch himself again, this time just for me. He startled, as if he had been in a trance and my words brought him out of it. His eyes moved from between my thighs to my face. He gave me a steady glare, his nostrils flared.

“Get the fuck out of my room.” I was unnerved and turned on by his ominous tone. I was also determined.

I brazenly dragged my free hand over my breast. The flesh tightened. His eyes became fixated on them again. “Not until you do what you did that night, just for me.” I pinched my nipple, tugging at it and whimpered, “please don’t make me beg.”

He shook his head. “We can’t do this!” The stark hunger in his eyes told me differently. I knew he wanted to. He just needed a little coaxing.

I spread my legs wider, giving him a better view of my pussy. I began fucking myself with my fingers.

I pouted and arched my back, pushing my breast forward. “Please, Ashford.” I had never called him by that name, and I could tell he liked it. His whole body flushed.

He groaned deep in his throat, cursed, looked away for just a second. When he looked back, I could see the defeat in his eyes. He dropped his towel, spat in his hand and fisted his cock.

He should have never given in to me. The feminine power I felt from breaking his will fed dark, needy parts of me. He was older. He was more experienced. He was supposed to be able to resist me but couldn’t. I had made him do what I knew he didn’t want to do. I was addicted.

He seemed traumatized after and avoided me at all cost. The next time I was able to get him alone was nearly a week later. Our parents had thrown a party. I had been watching him all night. He’d come with a red head. Not the one I caught him fucking, but a different one. I guess that was his preferred aesthetic.

He never let me catch his eyes nor had he looked my way until I was talking to one of the many males in the room, then I’d feel the heavy weight of his stare.

I became a social butterfly that night, basking in his covert attention more than the men who were openly interested in me. I even danced. I tied my floor-length dress around my thick thighs and let myself get lost in the beat. My momma encouraged me.

She was happy because I’d let her use me like a doll. She’d straightened my kinky hair until it hung down my back. She made me squeeze my size twelve body into a size eight red mermaid dress that fit me like a second skin. People kept telling us we looked like sisters or that she looked too young to have an eighteen-year-old daughter. She joined me on the dance floor that night, showing me attention I had always wanted from her, but it meant nothing. She was only doing it because so many men watched us, wanting us. I was only concerned about King. I wanted his attention.

I danced until I saw him leave the dining area, then I followed.

He was coming out of the bathroom when I pushed him back into it. I locked the door and pressed my back against it.

He backed up and leaned lazily against the sink. He gave me a dark dangerous once over. Again, his eyes were really low and red, as if he was high or drunk. He always seemed to be one or the other.

“You look stunning,” he complimented.

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