The Silver Swan (The Elite King's Club 1)

“What?” I mumble through a croaky throat.

“Don’t answer back, kitty. Just follow instructions. Kick the blanket off.”

I do as I’m told, swinging the blanket off my legs but keeping them closed, aware I didn’t put my clothes back on last night. Neither of us did, because Bishop fell asleep while still pumping inside me. This was after my fourth orgasm. I actually second-guessed if it was possible to die from having too many orgasms.

The cool morning air whisks through the open window and glides over my sensitive clit. My eyes close as I try to contain the moan that threatens to pass my lips.

“Open your eyes,” Bishop demands, so I do. I open them to him as he continues to pleasure himself. His rough hand glides up and down his thick shaft, squeezing as he gets to the rim of his head before sliding back down.

“Touch yourself, baby.” Slowly, I run my hand up my thigh before spreading my legs wide, well aware of how direct his view is of me, but one thing I know is that no one knows my body like Bishop does. He knows how to work it and what to do with it. He knows ways to make me come that I didn’t even know were possible. “Spread yourself open for me, let me see all of you.”

I do as he says, my breath coming in harder as my index finger and my pointer finger slowly spread my lips open, giving him a perfect view. I grind against my finger as it rests beside my clit, watching Bishop’s hand work himself up.

“Slide a finger inside. Just one. Do what you do when you’re all alone.”

Again, I follow his command, slipping in my index finger and thinking about what I do when I’m alone. What I’ve done while alone and thinking about Bishop. Running my eyes up to his, I pinch one of my nipples between my fingers and let my hips roll, grinding against my hands. Then I bring the hand that was pinching my nipple down to my clit and rub vigorously, all while pumping myself in and out, my eyes locked on Bishop’s and his on me. His movements become faster until he lets go. “Fuck this.” Then he walks toward me, wrapping his hands around my ankles and pulling me down the bed. Taking a seat on the edge, he picks me up until I’m straddling his hips and then smacks my ass before lying on his back. “Turn around and sit on my face.”

Doing as I’m told, I spin around, sit on his face, and suck his dick into my mouth.

After breakfast, Saint walks into the living room where Bishop, Nate, Tillie, Ace, Hunter, Abel, and Cash are. The rest of the guys have gone to get supplies for tonight. Apparently drinking and laser tag is a thing they do. Who knew we could make fun out of the weird situation we’re in?

Saint takes a seat on the sofa opposite me, and I shuffle uncomfortably. I know he’s Cash’s older brother, but I’ve only met him maybe one or two times before this, and both times were awkward—to say the least.

“Do you have any questions about what’s going on, Madison?”

I look at Saint. “Yes, when can I go home? Where is my dad? And I’m sure there has to be a misunderstanding. My father may be a lot of things, but he’s not a thief.”

Saint chuckles, his hand rubbing over his five o’clock shadow, his brown hair styled messily on his head. Bishop picks up the pack of cigarettes on the table and lights one before tossing the packet to Saint, who follows. I don’t see him smoke often—but he makes it look hot, as does Saint.

Saint takes a long pull off his cigarette before blowing out the thick cloud and leaning back in his seat. “When we say so. He’s in Vegas. And I’m sure that’s what every little girl says.” He leans forward, flicking his ash into the ashtray on the coffee table. Bishop props his leg up against it, caging my body in. If I didn’t know any better, I would think that was an almost protective gesture. Saint’s eyes lock with mine, his dark ones daring me to question him. “But let me be very clear, kitty. Your father is no innocent in this.”

“Maybe he didn’t know?”

Saint laughs, looks to Bishop, and then takes another pull of his smoke. “She’s cute.”

“Up until last night,” I hiss toward Saint, “my father was my hero. So forgive me if I don’t trust any of your words over someone who has never given me reason to not trust him—ever.” I look to Bishop. “Unlike some.” Then I stand from the sofa and walk toward the doors that lead out to where we had the bonfire last night. Flopping down in the swing on the porch, I look out to the thick forest. We’re in the middle of nowhere. Actually, I don’t even know where we are. I’m surprised we get cell phone coverage. Who knows, maybe Bishop owns the cell phone towers, too.