Kings of Blood and Money (Underworld Kings)

“Oh…oh…shit.” Her expressive moans obliterate my restraint. Thrusting inside her steals her breath. Her stomach clenches. Her toes lock.

Leaning in, I lick, caress, eating her cunt as she grinds against my face. Placing an arm across her navel, I hold her to the bed, forcing the pleasure to take hold. Flattening my tongue against the hood of her clit I press firm rhythmic strokes before fluttering the tip of my tongue over her bundle of nerves. My finger fucks her tight hole crooking to stroke where she needs me.

“Oh god…oh…” She thrashes, tipping her head back, grabbing at my hair while fisting the duvet in her other hand.

She’s stunning, like a ripple over a calm lake before it drops to a waterfall. Her body spasms, back arching, a sheen of sweat glistening on her flushed skin. She blossoms as warm juices coat my fingers, soaking the duvet beneath her ass.

“Damn, you’re perfect, Freya.”

Kissing her thighs, hips, navel, up over her delectable tits, tasting her nipples, then chest, neck, chin. “You’re beautiful,” I whisper over her lips. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a bastard to you. You didn’t deserve that.” Her eyes brim with tears. Frown lines crease her brow. Her skin, hot as a fever against my clothed chest, has me drawing a shaky breath. “I found them.” There’s a crack in my voice that shocks us both.

Her palm cups my cheek. “What? Who?”

“Remi was shot in the head. I thought I’d lost him. I managed to deter the intruder—your father—by attacking, throwing something at him. I think it dazed him.”

The memories haunt me, rattling around my brain. “I managed to call an ambulance for Remi, then went searching for my mother.” My heart stutters in my chest, pressure caving in, my mind spinning. The images, the fucking night, is stained so deep in my mind, I’ll never escape it. “The white sheets were soaked red,” I choke out. “There was so much blood, so much violence, rage.” My muscles coil tight beneath my skin. “My mother’s arms were still stretched toward my little sister. She was dead on the rug by the bed.”

Water drips over Freya’s face. It’s not until her gentle hand swipes beneath my eyes that I realize they’re my tears, not hers. “We were supposed to be kings. My father was powerful, feared, surrounded by men who thought of him as a higher power. It’s addicting being superior to everyone else. You start to believe you’re a god, untouchable, almighty. But we’re human. He is human. Delicate. Breakable. We’re all fucking breakable.”

“I’m so sorry, Noah,” she says on a pained sob.

Dropping my head to her shoulder, I let myself be vulnerable, let myself feel, let her offer comfort. I lower my walls, hoping to god I can keep them down for her.

Nineteen

Freya

Noah’s words chased me into my dream, waking me in a cold sweat. The hollow space in my chest doesn’t feel as empty with Noah’s warm body curled up next to me. He fell asleep fully clothed, wrung out from sharing the tragedy he lived through.

Sometimes surviving can leave you with overpowering guilt. Sorrow thrums through me for who he lost. Knowing I was created from such evil sends an icy hand up my spine, curling around my throat, seizing my chest.

That’s not who I am. That’s not who we are. We can’t let the actions of one man destroy us. In tragedy, we found each other. It’s been hard, downright brutal at times, living in the darkness he casts, but I get it. Looking at me, seeing me breathing, living here under the roof his family perished under…it must have been unbearable. I still don’t understand how Father could bring me here, look at me without the same disdain.

My thoughts shift to what transpired between us tonight. An explosion that’s been building. It’s a special kind of cruel fate, to want what you’re supposed to hate. And we did, want each other. Stroking a hand over his chest, my breathing becomes labored. What he did to me…the pleasure blew my mind.

Ivy has been with both men and women, but she never told me how addicting and intense sexual pleasure is. I’ve stroked myself before, but it was nothing like what Noah did. God, his tongue was magical.

An ache begins to throb between my legs. He shifts beside me, falling onto his back, his arm outstretched above his head, the other curling over his waist.

Leaning over him, I kiss his neck, across his jaw, his lips. He stirs on a groan, his hips flexing. My nimble fingers begin unbuttoning his shirt, stroking the warm, toned skin beneath. Both he and Remi are painful to look at. Such beauty in a domineering, powerful body is a lethal mix.

“Hmmm, what are you doing, Freya.” His sleep-filled voice sounds amused.