Page 100 of Vengeful King

I know I’m bruised from the fight at the docks. I know he’s bruised and cut too, more than me, but none of that matters right now.

Nothing seems to matter anymore but this. This fierce connection.

I’ve never wanted anyone more than Lachlan. I’ve never been so ready to give anyone anything the way I want to give Lachlan what he wants from me. I’ve never felt the need I do for him. I’ve never trusted a man to do what he wants the way I do with him.

Lachlan steps away for a moment. I don’t notice at first that he goes, but when I hear him enter the room again, I look over my shoulder. I’m confused until I see that he has a switch in his hand.

My heart lurches, an initial wave of nervousness flooding through me. Despite the way it should make me afraid, I can’t help the arousal I feel.

I shouldn’t feel anything but fear, but I’m already getting wet just looking at the switch in his hand.

“You can never run from me again,” Lachlan says.

His voice is low. It sends a shiver up my spine; I have to control myself, force myself not to turn around and face him. I feel like I’ve been waiting for hours, my hands against the window as he speaks behind me.

I want him to touch me so badly, but I have to wait.

“You can never hide. Never put yourself in danger,” he continues. He pauses, then says, “I’ll do anything to protect you.”

Those words are more powerful than anything else I’ve heard. I know he means it; I’ve seen that he’ll go to incredible lengths to protect me. To get me back.

It should terrify me, hearing that he wants me with him, hearing that he’ll do anything for me. But it doesn’t.

It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.

I’ve spent so many years being broken and beaten, being cheated. More than anything, I’ve always wanted someone to fight for me. Someone to lean on. Lachlan is all that and more.

He’s ready to fight for me, ready to kill for me. But he’s also ready to give me pleasure and pain together, so perfect that I can barely handle it.

He runs the switch over my ass and I start to tremble. I can’t control myself. He runs it over my thighs, careful and slow, and I feel myself tense in anticipation.

He brings the switch down on me without warning. It’s sudden and I cry out, my entire body clenching. But even as I react with shock and pain, I’m wet. I’m so wet that I’m almost embarrassed; I feel like I must be so wet that it’s obvious.

He doesn’t stop. He hits me again, then again. Each time feels perfect, burning but real, and I react to the switch every time it hits my skin. I just want him to touch me, or to touch myself—but I know I can’t. Not yet.

He keeps going until my ass and legs are burning, heat coursing through me. I feel like I’m melting and on fire at the same time.

“You’re beautiful like this,” he says, tracing my body with the switch. “You look so good covered in my marks.”

I can’t form an answer; I’m panting, struggling to keep myself still against the window. He gets closer to me and I hope he’s going to touch me, hope he’s about to thrust into me. I can’t stop myself from tilting my hips, trying to get closer.

“You belong to me,” he says, and the words are so quiet I almost don’t hear them. But he’s firm, serious, and his voice is full of truth. “Count them. Count each stroke. And know it every time you do.”

I take a shaky breath. He brings the switch down and I count,one,barely able to voice the word. I keep counting all the way to five, waiting with each strike for him to finally touch me, finally take me the way I want him to.

He gets to ten and I’m senseless, pain and pleasure overwhelming me. I just wanthim,and then suddenly, he tosses the switch away.

I inhale sharply, anticipating what comes next. I hear him shove his pants down and I want to look so badly, but I don’t. I can’t.

He drives into me without warning, hard and fast. I cry out at the sensation; it feels like ecstasy. He doesn’t give me time to breathe or react; he slams into me and doesn’t stop.

He fucks me hard and fast, and the roughness of it matches the burn I feel on my skin from the switch. I can barely think at all; all I can do is feel the pleasure of him filling me, fucking me so deeply I can barely handle it.

I can feel him getting close; I know I’m getting close, too. There’s nothing slow or planned about this. We’re both rushing, both trying to feel each other completely.

He comes inside me and I feel every pulse as I come too, tight around him as stars burst behind my eyes. I moan and my hands slide against the glass, looking for purchase and finding nothing but the sweat-slicked window.

I pant and press against the window, looking for support. Lachlan grinds against me, and every move he makes sends sparks through me. I’m too sensitive.

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