King (Sydney Storm MC 7)

1

King

Lily would be the death of me.

The absolute fucking death.

I threw some whisky down my throat as I kicked back on one of the couches in the clubhouse and watched as she made her way around the guys, chatting and having a fucking Friday-afternoon catch-up that was cutting in on my time with her cunt.

I’d made it clear to her when she’d arrived half an hour ago that she had ten minutes tops before I wanted us out of here and on our way home. Her ex had the kids this weekend, and I planned to take advantage of every second alone with her.

“You were in a good mood earlier. What’s made you grouchy this afternoon?” Kree asked as she placed another whisky in front of me. She followed my gaze towards Lily. “Ahh. You know, she’s good for the club. The guys love her and the way she’s taken an interest in everyone and their families. Let her be.”

I drained my first glass of whisky and reached for the new drink. “I’ll let her be for the time it takes me to drink this.”

Kree sat herself down across from me. She had the look in her eye that she got when she was about to share her thoughts with me. They were usually unwanted thoughts she should just keep to herself. But Kree wasn’t a woman ever deterred by anything I had to say. “You’ve slowly been growing moodier and moodier the last couple of weeks.” She paused briefly at the arch of my brow, but only briefly. “Hear me out. You might actually like what I have to say this time.” Another pause, marked by the slight smile forming on her lips. At my nod, she continued, “There are three more weeks until your wedding and I can already see how those three weeks are going to go down. My suggestion is you bring the wedding forward. It’ll save a whole lot of issues caused by your grumpy ass. At the rate you’re going, I’m concerned you’ll fuck a lot of shit up before you get that ring on Lily’s finger.”

This wasn’t something I hadn’t thought of. Fuck, at this point, I wondered why I’d given Lily eight weeks to plan the wedding. I’d spent the past few weeks listening to her, Brynn, and Hannah go on about the finer details of it. I wasn’t interested in any of that. All I cared about was that my woman was happy and that she had my last fucking name. I wasn’t convinced Lily was happy with all the planning she was doing; from where I stood, it seemed to me that with each passing day, she was growing more stressed by all the shit she had on her mind.

I emptied my glass of whisky and stood. “Thanks for the drink,” I said to Kree before making my way to Lily.

Placing my hand to the small of her back, I cut in on her conversation with Devil. “We need to talk.”

The command in my voice captured her attention. Turning and meeting my gaze, she said, “I was just telling Devil about—”

“Now. My office.” This was said with more force. A demand I wasn’t backing down from.

Her forehead wrinkled as a frown formed on her face. She didn’t argue with me again, though. Lily had figured out fast when to go up against me in my clubhouse and when not to. We’d never had to have a conversation about it; she was good at reading me. Better than anyone. And she knew now was not the time to argue.

She led the way to my office. Silently. That silence ended when I closed the door behind us.

Facing me, annoyed, she said, “That was rude, King. I was in the middle of a conversation and you know it pisses me off when you do shit like that.”

Closing the distance between us, I wrapped one hand around her throat and backed her up against my desk. The heat that my touch always brought to her eyes hit me deep in the gut, intensifying the feelings roaring through me. I needed to be inside her and I fucking needed it now. “Been waiting all fucking day for your cunt, Lily, so I don’t give a fuck if you’re pissed off. After I’ve had you, you can take as many shots at me as you want.”

My lips crashed down onto hers, taking any further argument she had with them. A second later, my long, deeply satisfied growl filled the room as I stripped away everything between us except our need for each other.

Her hands came to my clothes, tearing them off while I ripped hers away. Dragging my mouth from hers, I spun her around, placed her hands to the desk, gripped her hips, and thrust inside.

Christ, give me strength.

I was coming out of my fucking skin, which was fucking ridiculous because I’d had Lily this morning. And two or three times every other day since I’d made her mine. This insatiable need I had for her was unlike anything I’d experienced, and it was sending me fucking crazy.

It was also causing me to grow rougher with her each day, and today was no exception. I shifted my hands, hooking one arm around her waist and one hand around her neck again. My grip was tight. I knew she’d struggle for breath, but for the fucking life of me, that only turned me on more.

“Fucking hell,” I rasped against her ear as I pounded harder into her. “It’s fucking with my head how much I need you.”

She was unable to speak, but her moan let me know how

much she was into this. Lily’s love for my filthy ways increased daily. Our nights were spent with me taking more than any woman had ever allowed me to take, and her begging for every second of it. How I managed to make it through my days dealing with the club shit we had on was beyond me when she was on my mind almost every damn minute.

As my fingers dug harder into her skin, her hands came up, reaching for my head. She grabbed my hair and pulled it, letting me know she was at her limit. Usually, I’d ease up at this point, but today I was so fucking wired for her that I took a moment to give her what she asked for.

She yanked my hair again.

Rougher.

Madly.

Furiously.

I let her go and spun her to face me again. I wanted my eyes on hers while I fucked her. What I wasn’t prepared for was something Lily had never done.

She pushed me away, anger bleeding from her.

Catching her wrist, I demanded, “What the fuck was that for?”

“That was for you being an asshole this week. You’re getting moodier and bossier, and I don’t like it.”

“You knew what you were signing up for when you chose me, Lily. You can’t fucking pick and choose what you want from me.”

She snatched her wrist back. “Yeah, I did, but I’m drawing the line here. Something’s going on with you, and I wanna know what it is if I’m gonna be the one to bear the brunt of it. That’s what I signed up for. Give and take. You sharing some of your burdens. Me supporting you through shit.”

Jesus fucking Christ she was blazing with the kind of anger and passion and fight that spoke to me. Everything she’d said was right, but I wasn’t used to being called on my shit. I wouldn’t take it from anyone but her, and even then, I’d only allow it very rarely. Hell though if it didn’t spark fire and lust and the urge to bend her over this desk and force her to just accept what I wanted to give. And yet, that was the beauty of our relationship—she didn’t always give me what I wanted, but she sure as fuck gave me what I needed.

“You know I won’t discuss club business,” I said, working my jaw. I might have liked her fight, but I had no intention of starting down the path of involving her in club stuff.

Her eyes still flashed with anger. “I don’t want to know your club business, King. Fuck.” She exhaled loudly, frustrated. Then, taking the step that brought us skin-to-skin again, she stabbed a finger into my chest. “I just want you to let me help you. To let me take care of you like you take care of me. I need to feel like I’m contributing to this relationship, too.”

“You are fucking contributing to this relationship.”

“What, by spreading my legs every fucking night and allowing you to pound your frustrations out on me?”

“Fucking hell, Lily, if that’s all you think you contribute to us, we need a long fucking talk about shit.”

She raised her brows, giving me a look of exasperation. “That’s what I’m telling you. We need to talk more!”

Sharing my load wasn’t something I was good at or something I needed to do. I wasn’t built that way—my father had seen to that. And I couldn’t see that changing. Not even for Lily.

When I didn’t respond straight away, she continued, “All I’m trying to say is that I love you, but you make that hard when you’re the King you’ve been this week.” She stopped for a moment before saying, “You don’t have to handle your stress on your own anymore, King.”

A text came through on my phone as she uttered her last word. It was bad fucking timing, and usually I wouldn’t even look at it, but I had club stuff going down that it could relate to, so I reached for my phone.