Ruined Castles (The Elite King's Club 8)

I place one hand against the door and slam into her so hard she yelps, and her fingers sink deep enough into my flesh that it’ll leave bruises.

Gripping her throat with my other hand, I fuck her hard. Rough. Fast. Her brown hair slides up the door as her legs tighten around me every time she’s near.

“You wanna come, baby?” I whisper-growl into her ear.

Her head moves against my cheek when she nods.

Catching her earlobe between my teeth, I pull out and carry her to the kitchen counter. “Well, you ain’t gonna.”

She groans when I flip her backward, kicking her legs out wide and pressing her facedown onto the counter. “Bishop, please—”

“You know I hate when you beg. Take your shit and own it, Madison.”

She wriggles beneath me, but I snatch her wrists in my hand and keep them locked behind her back.

She sits up a little, enough to rest her other cheek against the counter. “Well, I would.”

Yanking my belt off, I wrap it around her wrists and tug on the leather, clasping it tight enough to give her no wiggle room. “No, the fuck you wouldn’t. Because you haven’t—all this time.”

“Fuck you!” she snaps.

I chuckle, licking my bottom lip while tearing off my shirt. “Yeah, thanks. I’m about to… just not where you’re expecting.”

She pauses. The air grows tight as she tries to look over her shoulder. Madison and I have never fucked fair. We fight dirty, fuck dirty, and will most likely kill each other one day, but it’s what we both need. Two halves of the same goddamn soul. Love would never work with us. It’s too boring, too mundane, too basic. We needed something more than love, and we found that in each other.

“What are you doing?”

“You know what I’m doing.”

“We don’t have lube…” she growls. “And you know how much I love it, but I can’t—”

“Yeah, actually, thanks to your trigger finger.” I cup my palm over the blood oozing down my arm. “We’ve got some ‘lube’.”

“Bishop!” she cries, just as I cover her pussy and ass with that same palm. She whimpers gently as I circle my blood over her clit. “Oh, this is wrong…”

“So wrong?” I ask, smirking down at her. Leaning over her body, I wipe the excess of my blood onto my dick and direct it near the tight entrance of her ass. With my other hand, I grab the front of her throat and force her head backward so she has to look back at me slightly. “Then tell me why you like it.”

I slowly push into her ass and her little mouth widens, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. “Oh my—”

“—Bishop. You mean oh my Bishop.” I hook my thumb into her mouth as my cock slips into her tight gap, a hiss escaping through clenched teeth. We’ve done anal probably—ten times—none of which were lubed by blood. Something primal digs into the marrow of my bones when she finally relaxes around me.

My grip around her throat tightens as I lean over and drag my tongue down the apex of her back. “You ever pull this shit again, we’re both going to the ground, you hear me?” She doesn’t answer as I slowly pump in and out. “Madison!”

“Yes!” she releases around her moaning. “Yes, okay, deal.”

I pick up the pace until my hips are slamming viciously against her ass cheeks. Hard, not fast.

This. If I can’t kill her, I’ll fuck her.

WHISKEY. THAT’S HOW I’M GOING to get through the rest of my life with Madison and—my eyes fall to her semi-swollen belly as she sits on the sofa opposite me, shirt torn, bra showing, her hair a mess, and blood smears over her cheek and lips. Both of our clothes are still in disarray all over the floor, in the midst of bloodstains and probably cum. The hotel is nice too. Well, at least it looks like it would have been nice. Before Madison and I happened. I go back to the belly. Two. Two fucking kids right at once. This should terrify me, and I think in the back of my mind it does—at least to an extent.

Madison leans back on the sofa, blowing her hair out of her face. “So which King did you bring with you?” Her tone is nonchalant.

I narrow my eyes. “Careful. Might need to fuck more of that attitude out of your stubborn fucking ass. Literally.”

The door opens and Abel pauses at the threshold, his eyes swinging around the room. He finally lands on me, making his way farther in. “Holy fucking shit, bro. Tell me you didn’t kill—” He stops talking when he finally sees Madison on the sofa opposite me.

Abel inspects her for injuries while pointedly ignoring her belly, and then comes to me. “Alright, who shot who?”