Page 25 of Truth
“The kind that gets what he wants,” I answer honestly.
“Don’t ever forget that.” His words are a warning. “And I know what I want.” He places me back on my feet, and I turn to walk back to the bed, unwilling to bite, but he catches my wrist.
“What kind of woman do you think I am, King?” I want to be the reflection I see in his eyes, but I’m scared.
“The kind that’s forgotten how much power she holds.”
I’ve never felt more accountable for the fragments of myself that I gave up.
King collapses on top of me, my body still trembling, my grip still glued to his back. I rub my fingers over the welts I created with my fingernails, and he grimaces.“Owww, easy, tiger,” he laughs.
“Sorry, I got away from myself…” I kiss his neck, running my tongue over the tattoo that stops at his collarbone. His pecs and both arms are covered in an intricate design woven together like each depend on the other, like a tribal chain link.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. Every time I see those marks in the mirror, my dick’s going to get hard.”
He pulls out of me, making me draw in my breath. I feel raw, stretched, and ravished. He’s right: he’s ruined me. I’ve never had sex on a level in which I was quite literally lost in another person. I’m overcome by the need to be closer, to feel him deeper, and we nearly tore each other apart. We did tear my bra apart. Note to self, no more “delicates” around this man.Shit, not that there is a next time.
“Scoot closer.” The gravel in his voice gives away his fatigue.
I do as I’m told, molding my body to his, hoping that my warning will stick but knowing it won’t.
We lie there, spooned and cocooned in our own little world. His breathing is heavy, but I can’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking, a thousand thoughts running through my head. I’ve never been with someone like him, someone so dominant and yet so insistent on my equality. He is all grown-ass man, and I’m addicted. Now that I’ve had a taste, how do I walk away? I know we said just for tonight, but maybe…maybe nothing, I catch myself before I get too far down the fantasy trail. I need my independence, the freedom to rediscover myself without the expectations of another man.
I need to get my shit together, and I am not ready for Dominic King.
“Spill. I can almost hear your goddamn thoughts. I’m never going to sleep if your wheels keep spinning. Speak, woman.”
Turning over quickly, not at all surprised by his intuition, I snuggle into my pillow as he readjusts his hand to lie heavily on my hip. His eyes are still closed, like he is committed to his sleep. The thought makes me smile.He’s stubborn.I can’t help but allow myself the indulgence of taking in all his features. God his lips are perfect. I keep staring, taking in the tiny dark brown beauty mark at the top of his eyebrow and the tiny white scar by the bottom of his lip.
Reaching out, I trace it with the tip of my finger only to be met with King’s teeth as he snaps out to nab my fingers without hurting me.
“Ahhh!” I scream out and begin to giggle. “Don’t bite!”
“But you like it when I bite.”
My cheeks flush from the truth of that statement.
“How’d you get that scar anyway?”
“Knife fight.” His face stays calm and unmoving.
“Ha-ha, seriously…” I roll my eyes, my voice laced with my disbelief.
“Seriously.”
I can’t tell if he is joking or if he’s serious. The idea that at some point in his life he was mixed up with some kind of criminal element isn’t surprising. His entire demeanor screams dangerous even though I’m not frightened. He’s more dangerous to my heart because I am angrier at the idea someone hurt him rather than the fact that he was in a knife fight.
Opening one eye, he looks at me and smiles. “I cut it on the corner of a coffee table when I was a kid, running through the house with my brother.”
I can’t help but smile. Maybe I’m relieved a bit.
“I know you have more questions, but you only get two more because after that I’m going to do a better job of fucking you to sleep.”
“You asked that guy, at the club, if he knew who you are. Who are you? Are you a bad guy?” I don’t think he’s a bad guy… but it doesn’t mean he can’t be.
“I’m someone who doesn’t like to share, and sometimes that makes me a bad guy to take from.”
“That’s too vague. That shouldn’t count as a question because the answer was bullshit.”
