Page 43 of Claimed By a King

I’m so fucking confused. All I want to do right now is get lost in Zoe, and I fucking can’t.

What are they doing to her?

What if she’s dead?

I spin, giving Tex my back as my emotions threaten to break me.

“Hey, man. Try not to let this shit get to you. We’ll find Zoe.”

I nod, even though I don’t believe Tex’s words. I get the sinking feeling that I’ll never see Zoe again.

It’s an unbearable fucking thought, and even though I have my club men around me, with Rocco on the outs, and Zoe MIA, I feel so fucking alone. Just like I did that day in the alley after my dad was killed.

I’ve been visiting Rocco every morning, and every morning I leave feeling guilty that he’s suffering the way he is. He puts on a brave face for Cara, but I can see it in his eyes. He’s struggling with all the physical therapy that doesn’t seem like it’s making any difference yet.

I fucking hope it does. I feel like each day I see Rocco, the light has faded in his eyes a little more.

Needing a fucking minute, I charge from the room and go back upstairs, this time beelining for my apartment.

The moment I close myself in, all I can smell is the faint remnants of smoke that still lingers from the fire when all I want to smell is Zoe.

“Fuck. Princess…” My whispered words meet no one’s ears, my apartment so devoid of life with Zoe gone that I feel like burning the whole fucking building down.

But needing her scent I find my feet leading me to the bedroom where I pick up the pillow she claimed as her own from Cain’s fort and press it to my face breathing her in deep.

I’m so fucking glad Alana brought the few things Zoe had claimed from Dirty Diamonds today. There are so many emotions swirling through me right now, but her scent starts to calm the raging storm brewing, and I turn, dropping my ass to the bed we used to share.

It’s been too long. Five fucking weeks since we retaliated against the Reapers. Five fucking weeks since Rocco nearly died. Five fucking weeks since my princess was taken.

“I don’t want to fucking do this without you,” I whisper again, letting myself pretend that Zoe is here with me.

My eyes fall to the bag on the floor that Alana must have left. Without a second thought, I unzip it and grab a handful of Zoe’s clothes, bringing them to my nose to smell her scent on them too.

One day, the scent will fade. What the fuck will I do then?

Letting her clothes drop to the floor at my feet, a pair of her panties gets hooked on my thumb, and I lift my hand to study them.

They are so fucking small. I remember these ones on her, the pink lace a temptation she knew I couldn’t fucking resist.

I bring them to my nose and breath in, the scent of her cunt shooting currents straight to my dick which hardens in a matter of seconds, standing to fucking attention.

Fuck.

It’s been weeks since I’ve been hard. I’ve tried on numerous fucking occasions to get myself hard in the shower, hoping to relieve some fucking stress, but nothing has worked, my mind always too fucking chaotic to let myself enjoy anything.

Now though, I’m fucking hungry. Starved. And all I fucking want is to sink into Zoe’s tight hot heat and fucking lose myself forever.

I have my pants open and my cock in my fist before I know it, my eyes trained on the crotch of Zoe’s panties, and the dried white substance she left behind.

I start pumping my dick, pressing the crotch to my nose and letting the smell of her cunt control me as I picture my princess here with me.

“Zoe,” I rasp, pumping faster before dragging my tongue over the crotch, wanting to taste her.

That’s what fucking undoes me, in a matter of seconds I yell into the empty space as pleasure sweeps over me and hot cum shoots from my cock onto my fucking lap and t-shirt, narrowly missing my cut.

Fuck.

I’m fucking panting as the shrill of my phone ringing snaps me out of my Zoe daze, and I hit accept.

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