Page 72 of Rise of the King (Checkmate 5)

Shaking his head, he presses a second, gentler kiss to my jaw to soothe the sting from a moment ago. Turning away, he moves to the back of the SUV and begins taking the grocery bags out.

After Tina and her girls left the store, I ended up trading my basket for a full cart and filling it so much, the blonde who served mebeepedeverything past the register with a huff of annoyance. I spent several hundred dollars on groceries that’ll last only days, and several hundred more on clothes so Jay and I wouldn’t be stuck in the same outfits we’ve been in for a couple days already.

Jeans, sneakers, underwear.

“Did you buy a tutu, Soph?” Jay paws through the bags and searches. “I don’t see a leotard or slippers.”

Scowling, I meet him at the back of the car and grab a couple of the lighter bags. “Why the hell would I buy a tutu, dummy? What the hell are you thinking?”

“It’s just that…” He hefts a dozen bags with a grunt and heads toward the door that leads to the kitchen. “We escaped a fiery building, dodged bullets, drove a long distance, stayed and fucked in a shitty hotel, and now we’re here.”

“So?” I follow him in and drop my bags to the floor when my bad arm burns. “What’s your point?”

“Well, putting all that together basically means we’re in a loving, committed relationship now. We’re practically married.” He pauses and looks to the ceiling. “We’ll marry after we reveal ourselves to Kane. He can be my best man.”

“Are you insane? What the hell is the matter with you?”

“Not insane.” He turns and heads back to the garage for more groceries. “My point was, we’re basically in love now, so in exchange for commitment and love and that one week a month where you murder me for existing, I think I deserve to see you in a tutu. Honestly, it’s not asking too much. I get lap dances for the rest of my life.” He hefts more heavy bags out and grunts. “Trust me, I’m not unhappy about that. You’re so fucking beautiful, it’s not even a hardship to commit to just one chick. All those guys in Murphy’s Law wanted you so bad, they were willing to die for it. But here I am, and I get these dances exclusively.”

He’s officially lost the fucking plot.

“I never agreed to dance for you!”

“And while those dances are amazing and sexy,” he forges on, “I’ve really got this fantasy going on in my head. I need to see you in a tutu, Soph. Like, my heart yearns for it the way it yearns for food, and gummies, and once upon a time, cocaine.” Stopping on the stairs, he turns with a wide smile and slams his lips to mine. “Ineedto see you in a tutu, babe. I need it more than food, and it can’t be a sissy little tutu, it has to be massive and full. And it has to stand up so I see your panties the whole time. Or better yet, dance without panties, because by the time you’re done, I’m gonna fuck you till you scream.”

I feel the pulse in my panties just from the promise of screaming sex. He just has to look at me with hunger in his eyes, and my body reacts.

Fuck him for knowing how to blow my mind.

Turning, he heads into the kitchen and deposits his bags on the floor. “I need you to find a tutu; that’s all I’m saying. And I need you to work on getting us a new sound system, because I want you to be able to dance any time the mood strikes. Day, night, weekends, whenever. If you feel a twinkle in your toes, I want to know about it, then I’m gonna watch you. I’ll probably stroke my cock while I watch.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“I’m honest,” he counters. Picking up the bags of meat, he turns and tosses them into the large freezer with no care for stacking or organizing. “Two bags of meat?” He pokes his hands into all the bags to make sure. “Anything else that needs to go in the fridge or freezer? Or is everything good to stay out for a bit?”

“Um…” I grab a bag that contains ice cream and pass it to him. Then I grab the cartons of milk and set them in the fridge door. “That’s all the perishable stuff. Why?”

Instead of answering, he grabs me around the hips and drags me against his chest until the breath bursts from my lungs. His cock is rock hard and presses against my belly, his lips hard and insistent as they force mine open and his tongue slides in.

Kissing me but leaning lower, he unsnaps my jeans and pushes them down with a rough shove. Then, picking me up off my sore feet, he deposits me on the counter and frees his dick from his jeans.

Mere seconds pass from when we’re packing groceries away to him slamming home and drawing a shocked cry up my throat. Just seconds, from no contact, to something where he’s all-consuming, touching me, body and soul. Then time is lost to us as he pushes in and out, thrusting until he can’t go any deeper, then pulling out until the tip of his dick slides along my nerve endings and drives me crazy with want.

“Thinking of you dancing turns me the fuck on, Sophia Solomon.” His lips cruise over my face and leave me breathless. “Thinking of you, full stop, turns me the fuck on.” His hands bruise my hips, but they don’t hurt. He consumes me, fills me, and makes me yearn for the life he spoke of.

Forever isn’t a reality for a girl like me, but for now, for today, in this house, in this kitchen, I can pretend.

* * *

It was nine in the evening on a regular Thursday in April when we arrived in this small town and pulled up to the home I used while Jay was still alive and living across the street.

Just like I stayed in the apartment above Jay in the Benson building, I stayed here in this house while he was working for Abel. I have homes anywhere I need to go, and they were all purchased using money I stole from bad people.

I have no regrets, and no intentions to give it back.

By Saturday, I delivered on my promise of internal surveillance of Kane’s home.

We eat; we make love, and we work. That’s our life now while I sit on the couch and search for CAB on my laptop.

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