Page 80 of Nash

“What happ?—”

I don’t get to ask the question.

Nash presses a bloody finger to my lips. “King? Is that who you want me to be for you, poison? Your king? Or is that a cute nickname because you have no fucking idea what you’re talking about?”

This is the beast. This is the side of Nash he warned me about. I can smell his victim in the air. Sweat. Blood. Tears. Piss.

It’s in a puddle across the room on the floor.

Nash made Turner bleed and piss himself.

“I took his eye for looking at you and a piece of his lip for talking to you,” he snarls. “No one disrespects my woman.”

The backdoor to the manager’s office is cracked open, a beam of sunlight streaming in. That’s where they took what’s left of Turner. It’s the only light in the otherwise dark room.

And I know.

I’m in a room with a beast.

“I know what I’m talking about,” I answer, proudly tasting the metallic blood on his finger. “I want you to bemyking.”

It’s the beast in Nash who almost slams me against the door. It’s the monster in him who smears the blood off his hands, framing my face with the evidence of his violence. It’s the savage in him, lifting me, pinning my body against the door before he reaches, ripping his zipper down. He’s an animal in heat, about to breed me, freeing his cock, before jerking my panties aside.

“Spit in it.” He holds his hand under my lips, and proudly, I look into his merciless eyes and drool for him, letting it pool in his palm.

With anyone else, I’d be terrified. I’d be triggered. I’d be fighting back, but not with Nash. Faced with his force, I don’t flinch. Deep down, all I feel is safe.

He’smymonster. He’smybeast.

He coats his cock with my spit before wedging his fat tip into my entrance. I know he wants to thrust brutally. But he doesn’t. He growls, slowly driving into me, but it’s me. I’m the one who feels like a beast, too.

“Fuck me like a king fucks.” I wrap my legs around him, sinking my nails into his back. “Make me take it like a queen.”

With his teeth, he holds my neck. He’s marking me, bruising me, and I’ll wear it with pride. Like an animal, he fucks me against the door, his hands gripping my thighs so hard, they’ll be bruised, too.

He doesn’t speak. His erotic mouth is gone, seized by the beast inside him. The only sounds are his grunts, my groans, and the force of his body slamming mine against the door.

“Whoa, dude.” A voice in the hallway outside marvels. “You hear that?”

Our audible audience makes Nash thrust harder, stretching my tender sex so much I’m moaning for it.

“Fuck yeah.” Another voice exclaims. “They’re fucking like animals.”

“Fuck off,” Nash growls, and they listen. Their sounds retreat into the bathroom, the door slamming closed.

“You want this, Vale?” He pulls his length out before ramming it back inside me, making me cry out. “You want to be my queen?”

“Yes.” I press my forehead to his, sweating and furrowed.

“Play with your clit,” he growls. “Come on my cock, and prove you like it like this, too.”

Once I reach down, gliding my fingertip over my sensitive hood, I shudder. I’m going to come. I know it. Nash knows it.

He lifts me higher, giving me another angle, his cock rubbing that sweetest spot inside me. “Oh fuck,” I huff. “Oh fuck, that’s it.”

“Do it,” he demands. “Fucking come so I can fill you with mine.”

Pressing down on my nub, I rub hard, matching the maddening intensity of the tender spot Nash is claiming inside me, the dual sensations so intense. The urge is overwhelming. It’s like I have to pee, but I won’t. I’m coming.

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