Malum: Part 2 (The Elite King's Club 5)

“One, you’ve never competed with any fucking girl. It’s always been you and it makes me fucking testy hearing you say shit like that so I would advise that be the last time those words spill out from those lips, or I’ll feel obliged to shove something else between them. Two, there is one person on this earth who gets all of me, Tillie. One fucking girl. And it’s not the dispensable hos that have bounced on my dick. It’s the one that fucking stole my heart, and lastly.” He smirks, his lips brushing softly against mine. “I must have malfunctioned along the way somewhere, because I fucking love you.”

I search his eyes when the first tear slips from the corner of mine. My heart feels like it’s beating to a different tune now.

“What?”

He kisses me softly, his lips brushing against mine. I open my mouth to let him in further as his tongue touches mine. My stomach flips and my thighs clench. He loves me.

“Wait!” I stop, pushing at his chest. “You’re drunk!”

He rolls his eyes.

The Kings in the background groan out loud. “For fuck’s sake, Stuprum!” one of them curses.

Nate grins. “I’m not that drunk. Stop being difficult.”

I wrap my fingers around the back of his neck and bring my nose tip to his. “I love you, too, but I have one condition for us going forward. You know, consider it a new trend, if you will. Our girl version of calling red.”

Nate’s eyes narrow, then he starts pressing small kisses over mine. “Anything.”

Between kisses, I smirk. “We’re going to visit the same tattoo artist that Madison and Bishop visited, and I’m claiming what’s mine.”

Nate bursts out laughing, his head tilting back as he lowers me to the ground. He takes my hand and kisses the front.

“Sure thing, baby. So where are you stamping your name?”

“That is not a thing,” Brantley announces, flicking his finger between us.

“It actually is…” I raise my eyebrows in challenge.

“Says fucking who?” He glares at me.

“Says fucking me, and since I am royalty, what I say goes. Also, Madison agreed.”

Brantley glares at Nate. “Tell her that it’s not a thing.”

Nate begins carrying me upstairs. “Oh, it’s a thing, and tell everyone to get the fuck out of my house.”

Tillie

Nate’s bedroom bleeds opulence, the only kind that you could expect from him. I roll off his California king bed, dragging the sheet with me while leaving him completely naked behind.

I smirk, raking my hair out of my face as I make my way to the glass wall that is on the other side of his room. I find it interesting that they’ve all moved to NYC instead of staying in The Hamptons. Maybe it’s a King thing. I run my fingertips over the walls. Dark grey with white trimmings. They almost look angry as they reach high up to the ceilings. The bathtub is behind a free-standing wall, along with a large shower head that stretches into a long rectangle. There are two walk-in wardrobes, one filled with all his clothes, and—I flick the light off, ducking into the other, where it’s filled with some of my clothes.

“Shit that you left at Mom’s.”

“Oh,” I whisper, not bothering to turn around to face him. “You just knew that I would take you back, huh?”

He chuckles, and I look over my shoulder to watch as he moves fluidly around the room, in all his naked glory. Muscles twitch with every movement and tattoos sprawl out everywhere with it. “Yeah, I did.” He comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my torso while hugging me into his chest. He bites on my neck roughly. “You’re not a woman who can be owned. I knew that a long time ago. You may not belong to me, but you belong with me. And there ain’t shit you can do about it.”

I laugh, tilting my head as he drags his teeth over my shoulder. My eyes close as I fight the urge to moan.

He slaps my ass, pulling me out of my sex-induced haze. “I want to show you something before we leave.”

“Before we leave?” I ask, tilting my head and watching as he turns the shower on. Steam instantly fills the room.

“Yeah,” he smirks. “I promised you a fucking tattoo.”

“And you really do want to?” I ask, an eyebrow cocked.

He glares at me. “Baby, I don’t give a fuck. I would put your name across my head if I wanted to.”

My eyes drop down his body, taking every single bit in. I grin when I get to the K I N G that sits over his pelvis. “I know just the thing.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, slipping into the shower. “Bet you fucking do.”

We wash up, in between the sex, and get changed in record time. I end up throwing on something of mine that he had brought here. Casual Vans, skinny jeans, and a leather jacket.