The Broken Puppet (The Elite King's Club 2)

“Nate!” he calls out, his eyes not moving from me. Saint withdrawals from me, taking all my pleasure and buildup with him.

“Yo!” Nate answers. I can’t see where he is, but I’m guessing he’s right behind me—with a great view.

“Tell me how good she tastes.”

I narrow my eyes at Bishop and open my mouth to protest, but his grip tightens and I flinch, my eyes slamming closed. “Who owns you?” he growls.

“But—”

“Shut the fuck up. Who owns you?” I open my eyes, tears creeping out of the corners. Tears from my hair almost getting ripped out, or tears from the feelings of abandonment I’ve started to sense deep in my chest. He doesn’t care. I really am just a trick to him. A game. If he cared, I wouldn’t be getting tossed around like public property. Before I can blink, I’m angry. Angry at him, but turned on by that anger.

“You own me, Bishop.” I give him what he wants while ignoring the stabbing feeling I feel in my throat.

“Now, spread them open and let him in.”

I look up at Nate and he smirks at me. “Promise to be gentle.”

I roll my eyes, because as far as I know, Nate isn’t nearly as ruthless as Brantley and Bishop, so that’s the least of my issues. Nate leans down, placing a kiss on my lips. I lean into him, his mouth meshing with mine.

“Kitty,” he whispers against my lips.

Something pokes into my chest, and I turn from left to right, not wanting this kiss to stop. Nate does kissing well.

“Kitty….”

There’s that prodding again. What the fuck? In an instant, the front of my belly has been doused in water and ice prickles over my nipples.

I shoot off the bed, reality slowly seeping its ugly fucking claws deep inside of me. “Fuck!” Rubbing my eyes, I look down at the front of my shirt, seeing my pajama top is soaked through. “Double fuck!” Then I look up, seeing Nate standing next to my bed with a water bottle in his hand and a grin on his face.

“You!” I narrow my eyes and slowly start to crawl down the bed, like a tiger about to eat its prey. I’m about to eat my prey—that prey being Nate.

“No,” he retreats, his hands coming up in surrender. “That’s not what…. I was waking you up because….” He looks around my room, trying to find a valid excuse. Squaring his shoulders, his face turns serious. “Imagine if the house was on fire, Mads!”

“But it’s not. Is it?” I challenge, standing to my feet. I watch him, and he looks over to my bedroom door briefly before looking back to me. “Madi, I can explain. It’s….” Then he makes a dash for it, launching toward my bedroom door and slamming it behind him. I fly toward it, twisting on my door handle and banging on the wood. “Open this fucking door, Nate!” I scream.

“No! Say you won’t, like, hurt my balls or something.”

“I won’t fucking hurt you!”

“Lies!” he yells back. “I know when you’re lying, because you add a ‘fucking’ in the middle. Tell me the truth!”

Exhaling in defeat, I open my mouth, just about to surrender, when I see my bathroom door open. Grinning, I slowly step backward. “Okay, I’m sorry. Do you forgive me?” Silently, I step into the bathroom, slide over to his door, and twist the handle open. It’s unlocked. Grinning from my cleverness, I pull the door open, but my face falls instantly.

“Going somewhere?” Bishop is standing in front of me, shirtless with those ripped jeans on. He basically just walked right out of my dream. Life is not fair and the universe obviously fucking hates me.

“I-uh…” I look around the room, hitching my thumb over my shoulder. “…am just going to go.” I spin around and start to run back toward my room, but Bishop hooks his arm around my waist, lifting me off the ground and throwing me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing.

“Bishop!” I yell. “Put me the fuck down!”

“Ah, see… you put a ‘fuck’ in there. You must be mad.” He slaps my ass cheek, the sting vibrating over my skin. “Calm yourself, woman!”

“I hate you!” I shriek, just as he throws me onto my bed. The morning sun glaring through my porch windows catches his messy bed hair. The chestnut brown color sets off the contrast of his tanned skin.

His eyes turn almost black. “Yeah? Well, I don’t give a fuck. You’ve hated me for so long now.”

“This is different!” I shout back, suddenly angry at him.

“What?” He matches my level of loud. Spreading his arms out, he smirks. “How? How is this different?”

“You let Saint fuck me and Nate go down on me!” I scream, tears suddenly slipping down my cheeks. Jesus. When did I become such a girl? I make a mental note to check the dates, because I must be due for Mother Nature’s visit. There’s no way I’m this much of a pussy-ass bitch.