Deviant (Boys of Winter 3)

King latches onto the tops of my arms and pulls me back until I’m right where I was. “I’m not about to let you walk out of here because I’m not going to spend my night scouring the streets only to find you at the back of some sleazy bar beating the fucking shit out of some bastard. So, you have three fucking choices, and I suggest you choose wisely.”

I clench my jaw and look up to meet his pissed-off stare. Most of the time, I love his forceful nature. I love his dominance and alpha bullshit. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, except when he uses it against me and keeps me from getting my way. Right now, I couldn’t hate him more.

I just stare, too fucking stubborn to respond, but he doesn’t let it faze him. “One, you can stay right the fuck here and let me fuck you up against the tiles. Two, you can start talking and tell me what the fuck just went down between you two. Or three, we can go down to the gym and you can take it all out on me. What’s it going to be?”

Is he insane?

Fuck, feelings, or fight? Who in their right mind would have even bothered listening to the second or third option? But in all honesty, options two and three are just not things that I’m down with. It’s one thing standing in that gym with Carver and beating on him until I reach exhaustion, but it’s different with King. I don’t take pleasure out of putting my hands on the guys. It makes me sick. What happened with Carver and that guy was out of pure desperation, not something that should be repeated. As for talking through my feelings, I’m nowhere near ready for that. That just sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.

I shake my head and try to pull out of his hold but he pulls me right back again. “Kiss me,” he demands, his tone rough and filled with authority.

“No. It’s not going to happen.”

King grabs me tighter and pushes me up against the wall, being firm but not rough enough to wind me. “I said kiss me.”

I meet his heated stare. His breath comes in short, sharp pants and it’s clear that his emotions are just as messed up as mine. He doesn’t know how to help me and that scares the crap out of him, but he’s making it up as he goes, and fuck him, as he keeps his intense, gorgeous stare on mine, it starts to work.

“King …”

“Kiss. Me.”

I let out a soft breath and slide my arms around his neck, and that one small touch is enough to send the need firing through me. My fingers knot into his hair, holding him close as I continue to stare into his eyes.

“Don’t make me wait any longer.”

I give in and push up, crushing my lips against his, and as his tongue slips inside my mouth, the thought of what happened in Carver’s room instantly begins fading from my mind, allowing a subtle peace to settle over me.

King kisses me urgently. At first, he allows me to take control, but it doesn’t last long until he’s pressing harder, reminding me exactly why I love that dominance that lives inside him. It’s raw, brutal, and addictive.

His body presses into mine, the familiar weight consuming me, drawing me in, and absorbing every ounce of pain I’ve tried so hard to hide. His lips are like the sweetest torture, and as his hands grip my waist, I run my fingers along the contours of his powerful chest. I have to have him.

King’s hand drops to my ass, and in one smooth motion, he lifts me up and presses me harder against the cool tiles. Without missing a beat, he thrusts right into me, sending his thick, corded cock deep, hitting me right where I need to feel him.

I cry out, tipping my head back and groaning at the way his lips come down on the soft, sensitive skin of my neck. His fingers dig into my ass as the urgency builds between us. He draws back, and with a loud grunt, he slams back inside me.

“Oh, fuck. YES! King.”

He’s everything.

Hunter King is God’s gift to women. Fuck, they all are.

Except Carver.

Fuck Carver.

I need to nut-punch Carver.

Why the fuck am I thinking about nut-punching Carver while King’s are currently slamming against my pussy?

King picks up his pace, pushing into me over and over again as I cry out, losing myself in him. He works my pussy just the way I like it, hitting me in all the right spots, touching me the way I need, kissing me the way that drives me wild.

My body answers his every call, and it’s only a minute before I feel that familiar pull drawing up inside of me, building rapidly with a fierce intensity, ready to tear me apart from the inside out.