Deviant King (Royal Elite 1)

‘The remains of Mr and Mrs Steel have been retrieved and identified.’

Remains.

I don’t know why I only keep seeing the technical details.

They say being burnt alive is the most painful death. I should feel something about the reminder that my parents died in so much pain.

However, I’m… disconnected. Probably because I don’t really remember them. But is that an excuse?

‘The only witness is Ms Steel — a seven year-old girl. She has been under attentive mental and physical care. The doctor said that Ms Steel lost all recollection of what happened. After further investigation, the police closed the case as a gas malfunction.’

I exit the article not wanting to read more. I don’t remember having a lake near our house or even a basement. But Aunt and Uncle made it clear that they were never taking me back to Birmingham.

Not that I wanted to. At least in the past. Now, I don’t know.

Am I ready to bury my head on the expense of having more nightmares?

I release a breath through my nose. I probably need to see Dr Khan again.

Once I exit the bathroom, I’m transfixed by Aiden’s frame on my bed. He’s still in the same position I left him in. His arm with the tattoo rests on the pillow as if I were still sleeping on it and his other arm is slumped on the bed as I left it.

Seems like he’s a heavy sleeper.

At this time on Saturday, I usually do some yoga.

Not today.

I tiptoe, lift Aiden’s arm and snuggle in the crook of his warm body. My head rests on his bicep. I’m becoming too addicted too fast to how it feels to be in his embrace.

I wrap my arm around his hard, defined midsection and push into him.

An unmistakable bulge stabs the bottom of my stomach.

I freeze.

This must be what’s called morning wood.

I wonder if it can get harder while he sleeps. I run a hand in front of his face, but there’s no response.

With hesitant movements, I rub my stomach against it.

Holy hell.

His dick becomes rock hard, tenting against his dark jeans.

Heat pools between my thighs and my skin warms. My nipples strain against the cotton of my PJ’s.

I’m supposed to stop, but I can’t.

When it comes to Aiden, there’s this constant craving for more.

More contact.

More touch.

Just… more.

If I can’t escape the beast or tame him, I can at least explore him.