Page 25 of Vengeful King

Katrina

I know I’m in a dream because the colors blur together, the edges of my vision fuzzy and indistinct. I think I’m in the dressing room at the club, but it’s empty just like it was when Lachlan kicked everyone else out.

We’re alone together, just like we were then.

He looms over me, his eyes burning as he devours me with his gaze. My heart thuds so heavily against my ribs that I swear it's making my breasts shake. I’m sure he can see it, or even hear the pounding beat. He has to know how much he’s affecting me.

He’s tall, formidable, the angles of his face sharp as he looks down at me.

My mouth is dry. Tension builds between us like a palpable thing, and I don’t know if I should open my mouth. I don’t know if speaking will break this spell.

And what will he do when it breaks? Will he kiss me or kill me?

That thought makes a small tremor run through me, and the tiny movement of my body is enough to snap the thread of tension between us.

In a flash, Lachlan moves.

He’s on me suddenly, palming the back of my head and crushing his mouth to mine, hard and rough.

“I told you,” he murmurs gruffly against my lips. “No more lies. So don’t pretend you don’t want this.”

His tongue slips into my mouth, and I moan. He doesn’t go slow; he dives into me, rough around the edges. I can feel my lips swell. One of his hands curls around the back of my neck; the other slips over my body, coming to rest on my hip.

He holds me in place, fingers digging above my hip bone. He kisses me so hard that I can barely catch my breath. When he breaks away, I barely have time to orient myself before he spins me around, his wide hands on my arms. I’m almost dizzy from the movement.

Then he yanks my clothes off. I can hear my dress rip; there’s a soft sound as sequins hit the floor, twinkling brightly. My nipples harden, the lace covering my breasts straining.

“So fucking beautiful,” he groans.

My breath catches in my throat. I try to arch into his touch, wanting more, but he presses firmly against me. He pushes me down, and I feel my chest press against something hard and flat. A table, maybe—I don’t really know. I don’t care.

All that matters is that he’s touching me.

His hand slides over my ass. I’m trembling, waiting for him to touch me, imagining what it will feel like. His fingers drift lower, and I think maybe he’s going to slip them inside me.

But instead, his hand moves away, and then he slaps my ass.

I cry out in surprise, but the sensation sends a new rush of arousal straight through me. I’m so wet I can barely stand it. I know my panties are soaked; I want him inside me so badly.

“Please,” I whimper. “Please, I need…”

“I know what you need, Katrina.”

His voice is a rough burn, and he twists my name between his lips like he’s still getting used to the sound of it. When he rips my bra off, I suck in a breath. He does the same with my panties, and the chill of the air against my pussy tells me I’m just as wet as I thought.

He slaps me again, out of nowhere, and I cry out again. But this time, when the sound leaves my lips, he drives into me.

His entire cock fills me in one smooth stroke.

It stretches me wide, overtaking every atom in my body, splintering me apart as he plunges deep inside. I flatten my palms on the table, my body shaking at the sudden sensation. It’s all I can do to keep myself where I am, keep my legs from giving out entirely.

I can feel my body pulse around him, clenching with each wave of pleasure. He stays in me for a moment, letting me relax around him.

And then he pulls out and slams into me again.

There’s no careful movement in the way he fucks me. It’s hard and rough, a completely brash pace that doesn’t stop or let me relax. I cry out every time he rams into me, the pleasure and fierce heat blinding me. After the third time I scream raggedly, he reaches for my shredded underwear and stuffs them into my mouth.

“That’s a good girl,” he growls. “Take what I’m giving you. Take it all.”

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