Page 78 of King of Malice
He bends a bit, hooking my knee and wrapping one of my legs around his waist.
And then he plunges inside me.
I should be shocked. Scandalized even.
But as he sinks deeply, every nerve lights on fire and my head tips back, a cry of a completely different kind falling from my lips. He feels so good, I forget everything else.
But once he’s inside me, he stops, his body freezing in place as his muscles grow completely rigid against my softer flesh. “Why is there blood on your chin?”
He asks it like he’s angry. I blink at him in confusion, too wrapped up in how he feels to process the question.
The PA crackles. “Game over.”
My soldier boy pulls out of me, and I make the smallest whimper of regret as I’m left feeling empty without him. He could have kept going. I would have welcomed it.
I dig my fingers into his shoulders, my leg tightening around his waist, my invitation not spoken but still totally obvious.
“In a minute, sweetheart, I’ll give you everything you want.” His voice is quiet as he tips his forehead down to rest on mine. It’s a moment of intimacy that I haven’t experienced in a very long time, and it steals my breath.
I stare at him, my lips parting from my surprise and that’s when more blood streaks down my chin.
He makes this snarling growl that reverberatesin his chest and moves through me. I blink in surprise, wondering at the change and if I’ve made a terrible mistake.
Did I let the wrong man claim me?
He steps back, his hands raising in a way that makes me cringe, and I hate it. I hate showing fear like that.
The bonded feeling is gone, replaced with anger, as my own fists ball at my sides and I’m ready to fight no matter the outcome.
It’s not healthy, but it’s me. Aggression brings out aggression in me every time.
But instead of raising his hand to me, he wipes my chin. Then, he shrugs off his tank top, dropping the fabric over my head.
It falls down my thighs, covering the exposed parts of my body. My eyes widen in surprise. Why did he do that for me? He can’t care about what other men are seeing, can he? We’ve known each other for mere minutes. Why is he protecting me in this small way?
I don’t have a chance to ask, shirtless, he turns back to the man who caused my tongue to bleed. “Get up, motherfucker,” my soldier boy snarls.
The guy sits up, looking dazed, but I still take a step back. I’ve have taken on many fights that I never should have touched, so it isn’t sense that makes me shrink, it’s straight-up fear.
No one has ever made me feel as powerless as that piece of shit in the dirt, not since I was a small child. It’s a feeling I hate more than any other.
My soldier catches my reaction and his hand brushes down my arm, his fingers gentle before he steps in front of me. “I am going to give you until the count of three to collect yourself and run before I beat you senseless.”
“The Hunt is over,” the other man spits. “You won.”
“It’s not about winning,” soldier boy fires back. “It’s about treating the woman, who gave herself to us, with the respect she deserves.”
“Fuck off,” the other man barks. “You can go fuck yourself?—”
“Three.” And then soldier boy dives forward, tackling the other man back to the ground.
I bring both my hands to my mouth to hold in the scream as the two men roll in the dirt, fists flying.
I can’t tell who’s winning, only that they are both hitting each other with a force that would knock most men out cold.
“Fighting is over,” the PA crackles.
Soldier boy wrestles to the top and drops his fist into the other man’s face once, twice, three times with a punishing force that reverberates through the ground, the sick sound of it filling the air, before he stands up. “When you’re having your dental work done, I want you to remember that gentlemen do not hit ladies. Ever.”
